บท 42: Chapter 40

“Your sister,” he said cautiously, seeming to know he was touching a sore wound with this. “She used to read a lot of books.” It didn't sound like a question, but more like an affirmation.

“Reads a lot of books,” I corrected, not liking the past tense he'd used.

“Yes, she likes reading,” he said, taking in my silent message. “From what I can see, that's her personal escape. Something must've pushed her to grab that book and made her fervently wish to stay in that world she was holding between her hands. Have you any idea of what might've inflamed that desire?”

My throat tightened, as if big, invisible hands were squeezing my wind pipe. “Maybe,” I finally said, with a fierce pang of pain in my chest.

He nodded in understanding. “You don't need to tell me the reason, she-fledgling. I can see regret and sorrow swirling in your eyes. But you should know one thing.” I looked at him. “You're the only one who can bring her back.”

“Bring her back? From where?”

“Chimera.”