The pitch-black room was so dark that one couldn't see his own hands. In the emptiness, only breathing—at times slow and at times hastened—accompanied the eeriness in its melody.
Xia Ruya reached out in front of her gently only to feel a glass surface—a mirror actually stood before her. If not for the fact that she knew her position and could feel it, who'd have known that in this pitch-black house, the mirror was actually just right in front of her?
The mirror before her was pitch dark, totally couldn't reflect her image.
However, she felt a special sense of security. Only in darkness like this could she totally release her genuine emotions—even the mirror couldn't reflect the hatred stirring within her.
"Wen! Xin! Ya!" She slowly spat out three words from her tender lips. She could feel that as she said each word, the hatred in her eyes was like a teeth-baring higanbana—a flower blossoming from her viscous blood like a hysterical demon.