บท 444: Who Says The Maturation Stage Is A Battle Of Wits?

As the man behind him gripped his shirt collar very tightly, Number 47 felt strangled. Every breath took a great effort. Even though his face was turning red and his muscles were bulging from the strain, the person did not relax his well-controlled grip. Somehow, it never got to the point that the perpetrator's action was judged as a violent force.

Number 47 struggled a few times. Sweat appeared on the weakened man's forehead. A bead of sweat rolled along his eyebrow and then into the corner of his eyes. His vision blurred from the stinging pain. Through his blurry vision, he noticed a tall figure standing from the other end of the leaf.

"Let him go."

Number 49's icy voice rang out. She was suppressing her anger, yet her anger was like molten lava under a thick ice sheet. Her fury was apparent to all despite the coldness of her voice.