In the bathtub, filled with water, two bodiesy submerged at the bottom. It was unclear whether they were dead or alive. Crimson blood gradually diffused from beneath them, unfolding like the petals of a red rose. Outside the bath, Johny on the pristine white floor,pletely nude. L knelt beside him with a kitchen knife in her hand, cutting into his flesh methodically. Fresh blood sprayed out with each slice. L was well-versed in anatomy. She knew precisely theyout of the human vascr system, avoiding the deep veins and slicing directly into each artery with deep, purposeful cuts as though gutting a fish. Now, every gash on John''s body spurted blood like a gruesome fountain, with no music to apany this macabre scene.
Furthermore, each of L''s cuts targeted his pain receptors, preventing him from teetering into unconsciousness and forcing him to endure the relentless agony.
With his other eye, John witnessed his own body spurting blood in waves. It was a terrifying sight.
He was not dead yet, but his breaths were shallow.
Fully aware he was dying, John cursed, "You damn bitch, I won''t let you go!"
With a cold smile, L didn''t reply. Instead, she raised the knife and hacked fiercely toward his mouth, stirring the de inside him as the red liquid seeped from the corners of his lips. John''s eyes widened, sudden pain causing his body to twitch uncontrobly.
As she watched John suffer, a hint of pleasure finally showed in L''s crimson eyes, yet she knew-
It wasn''t enough. Not yet.
As L lifted the knife, ready to sever his head, a familiar voice called out, trembling with urgency. "L!"
Someone was calling her.
L froze, slowly looking up to see Sylvester standing before her.
Mildred and Ethan rushed to the scene and were utterly shocked by the sight.
Did Miss L do this?
Yet how could such a delicate and seemingly fragile young girl suddenly turn so violent and bloody?
Mildred and Ethan exchanged a nce, their eyes reflecting mutual astonishment.
Sylvester''s breath hitched; his amber eyes were wide with surprise and thick with concern, his left hand adorned with a dragon-designed ring trembling slightly.
L''s white dress was now stained crimson, her slender arms and legs smeared with scarlet. Her stunning face was almost unrecognizable under the blood, her gaze confused, helpless, yet filled with intense hatred.
He had initially thought L was in danger, only to find her in this horrifying state.
Even though it wasn''t L who was hurt, his heart ached severely.
Sylvester approached her with long strides, crouching on one knee to be at her level, his face tense as he tried to soften his tone, "Baby."
With reddening eyes, L stared nkly at Sylvester and murmured, "Sylvester."
They locked eyes, and Sylvester reached out-his long, well-defined hand grasping L''s knife-wielding right hand without trying to wrestle the knife away. He offered warmth instead and spoke soothingly, "Can you give me the knife, please?" He disregarded his need for cleanliness; he ignored the dirty blood. At this moment, he saw only his L, knowing he needed to calm her.