With this thought in mind, Joanna Kennedy didn’t even take the ti to clean up her test papers or change her clothes. She just threw on a jacket and rushed out the door.
called out to her several tis but couldn’t stop her.
It wasn’t until she was on the bus that she finally had a mont to pay attention to 166.
Joanna Kennedy rembered how 166 had detected Simon Lockwood going to that old factory to fight that blond punk, and her eyes brightened. [’Can you check on Simon Lockwood’s current condition?’]
’She only cos to the system when she needs sothing, never when she doesn’t.’
was thoroughly annoyed by this opportunistic attitude of hers. However, bound by its professional sense of duty, it still answered honestly. [’Out of respect for privacy, the system can only sense the protagonist’s location when they are in imminent and uncontrollable danger.’]
’So, Simon Lockwood is safe right now. He’s not in any danger.’
Joanna Kennedy felt a small knot of tension in her chest loosen, but the vague sense of dread that coiled in her heart refused to disappear.
She clutched her phone tightly. There was still no reply to the ssage she had sent.
「The Crimson Hall.」
In a private room on the third floor, Simon Lockwood was delivering a case of beer. He knocked on the door, but when no one answered, he patiently knocked three more tis.
Soone inside the room shouted, "Co in."
The mont the door opened, deafening music assaulted his ears. A slight twinge of pain shot through his left ear, and Simon Lockwood frowned almost imperceptibly.
Keeping his eyes straight ahead and his expression neutral, Simon Lockwood moved through the crowd and set the case of beer on the table. "Enjoy your drinks."
With that, he turned to leave.
Soone sitting in the booth suddenly spoke up. "Hold it!"
"We ordered red wine. What is this crap you brought us?"
The mont he heard that voice, Simon Lockwood understood everything.
’It wasn’t that the staff was too busy, and it wasn’t a mistake with the order.’
Simon Lockwood said in a level tone that he would go and confirm the order.
’Paul Pemberton had gone to so much trouble to set this trap and lure the guy here. He wasn’t about to let him leave so easily, not before he got to see him humiliated.’
"Confirm what? I ordered red wine," Paul Pemberton said, his legs crossed in a lazy slouch. He shot a disdainful glance at the young man in the server’s uniform.
’He really couldn’t understand it. Besides that pretty face, what was so attractive about him? The guy reeked of disgusting poverty.’
"Hey, server, didn’t you hear what Paul said? ’Confirm’? Sounds to like you’re just trying to shirk your responsibility."
"Exactly. Just apologize and get lost," soone else chid in.
One after another, their voices dripped with undisguised malice and contempt.
But the person at the center of the storm remained calm and composed, his proud and solitary figure making them look like squawking chickens.
Paul Pemberton sneered, "An apology isn’t enough. You wasted my ti. You think a simple apology can solve that?"
"What do you want?" Simon Lockwood’s tone was flat.
Paul Pemberton pointed to the beer on the table. "Let’s do this. I’ll be generous and give you two bottles. Drink them both, and we’ll call it even."
It wasn’t that difficult to drink two bottles of beer. The point was clearly to humiliate him, and everyone could see it.
The people present also caught on, realizing that this server had so beef with Paul Pemberton, and Paul was deliberately ssing with him.
But not a single person spoke up to help. They were a pack of rich kids who ran together, and their idea of fun was to make sport of ordinary people.
Every one of them looked on as if watching a show, and so even started jeering, telling Simon Lockwood to stop dawdling and get on with it.
"Paul’s offering you a drink! You probably couldn’t afford this stuff in your lifeti, so what are you waiting for? Drink up!"
"Hahaha, he’s getting off easy."
Amidst the mocking jeers and curious stares, Simon Lockwood picked up a bottle of beer, tilted his head back, and downed it in one go. Then he grabbed another and drank it all without a mont’s hesitation.
The bitter beer churned in his stomach.
His gaze was devoid of emotion as he looked at Paul Pemberton. His voice was flat. "Thank you, Young Master Pemberton."
Paul Pemberton’s sense of superiority and his ego were imnsely satisfied. He had thought Simon Lockwood was so kind of tough nut to crack.
’Guess he’s nothing special after all.’
"I really don’t know what Jo sees in you," he sneered.
Simon Lockwood’s head snapped up, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. It was a viciousness that seed out of place in an eighteen-year-old high school student.
For a mont, Paul Pemberton almost thought the server was going to punch him.
However, Simon Lockwood rely tossed the beer bottles into a trash can and walked out of the private room.
The manager was waiting downstairs, pacing anxiously and glancing up the stairs from ti to ti. When he saw Simon Lockwood co down safely,
he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He started to walk over, then stopped, wringing his hands as if he wanted to say sothing.
But Simon Lockwood didn’t give him a chance to speak. "I delivered the drinks. If there’s nothing else, I’m heading out."
He didn’t ntion a word about what happened upstairs.
The manager nodded stiffly, unable to find any words to say.
’He was the one who had lured him here. And even though his hand had been forced, the fact remained that Simon Lockwood had only co because he’d trusted him.’
’The manager didn’t regret it, but he did feel a pang of guilt. Still, that little bit of guilt was insignificant compared to the business of his bar.’
’Simon Lockwood understood this reality, so he wasn’t going to waste his breath calling the man out. It would be pointless.’
The bus route didn’t go directly to The Crimson Hall, so Joanna Kennedy got off at a stop about two hundred ters away and imdiately started running in its direction.
She had barely taken a few steps when she saw Simon Lockwood walking out of The Crimson Hall, a bag slung over his back.
Though he was still over a hundred ters away, Simon Lockwood clearly saw her too. He stopped for a second, and the harshness in his expression imdiately softened.
"What are you doing here?" Simon Lockwood strode up to her and took her hand. It was ice-cold to the touch, and his expression darkened.
’His expression was grim, but it was clearly because of her. Other than that, nothing seed out of the ordinary.’
The knot of anxiety in Joanna Kennedy’s chest finally dissolved completely. She burrowed her hand deeper into Simon Lockwood’s pocket and said, "I missed you..."
She was so soft and endearing when she acted like this that Simon Lockwood couldn’t bring himself to be angry. He took off his own jacket, even though he was only wearing a black sweater underneath.
"I don’t need it..." Joanna Kennedy protested.
"Put it on," Simon Lockwood said firmly, wrapping it around her himself.
The warm jacket, slling of soap, enveloped her. Joanna Kennedy couldn’t help but take a deep breath.
But amidst the fresh scent of soap, she caught a faint whiff of alcohol.
"Have you been drinking?" she asked quizzically.
Simon Lockwood shook his head, his reply quick. "No."
’If he hasn’t been drinking, then where did the sll of alcohol co from?’
Joanna Kennedy leaned in like a curious puppy to sniff him, but before she could get close, Simon Lockwood laughingly pressed a hand to her forehead to stop her. "What are you doing?"
"Seeing if you’ve really been drinking or not," Joanna Kennedy declared righteously.
"...I didn’t." Simon Lockwood had no intention of telling her what happened in the private room.
’It was sothing he could handle on his own. There was no need to get soone else worried over nothing.’
"I probably just got so on my clothes by accident."
It was a flawless explanation, and Joanna Kennedy had no reason not to believe him. Still, she felt sothing was off, but for the mont, she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Joanna Kennedy remained a little downcast all the way ho.
Simon Lockwood cooked dinner. The kitchen was so small that with him standing in it, there was no room for anyone else.
Joanna Kennedy leaned against the doorfra, watching him cook. Her gaze traveled from his well-defined knuckles to his back, which was so thin that the bones of his spine seed to press against his sweater.
’When had Simon Lockwood gotten so thin?’ she suddenly wondered.
User Comments
0 comments from readers