บท 549: Stubborn as a Dead Duck

Hell had been secretly observing her every move, his sharp gaze acting like a keen knife, as if he wanted to cut through her facade and see into her soul. At this moment, the dealer asked, "Would you like to continue drawing cards?" Hell was the first to speak, "Yes."

Upon hearing this, Cynthia lifted her eyes, gazing calmly at the man sitting across from her. He was dressed in a white suit, exuding an air of aristocratic elegance from head to toe. His every movement and gesture showcased his grace, like the royalty of 20th-century European nobility. However, his shirt collar was slightly open, revealing the curves of his collarbone, and he lounged lazily in his chair. His facial features were exquisite and three-dimensional, each seemingly crafted by a divine hand. Even the subtlest movements enhanced the charm of his delicate face.

Yet, the cold and stern demeanor between his brows and eyes contradicted the elegance and grace that enveloped him.