บท 167: Hunting memories of Regrettable love 6

The stage lights went up, drawing the attention of his eyes like a singer who had taken to the platform.

The sight of her immediately made his eyes dark and cloudy.

Like the slow tempt of rain from the full, pregnant sky, drop after drop fell, leading to a continuous downpour.

Staining his cheeks with the hot affection of their salty streams.

As an Assassin, he was very perceptive of his environment, but his heavy heart had clouded his senses and clouded his reasoning.

Even his breathing—every inhale for life—felt like the pull of a ton-weighing rock.

His fingers around the long knives loosened on their own accord, shaky from the shock before his eyes.

He wanted to run to her, but his knees, weighing the failure of his promise to protect her, stapled his feet to the ground.