Jasmine Yale paused in her steps.
A strange sensation, as if a thousand ants were crawling within her chest, overcame her.
She hadn't expected Charles McIntosh to be so straightforward—it must have been Sylvan Cheney's directive.
Without turning around, she merely lowered her eyelids slightly and responded softly, "I won't come again."
What was the point in coming back?
Suddenly, she found her anxious and flustered journey hilarious, as if it had been a solo performance.
In his life, her presence or absence made no difference; it was insignificant.
Jasmine quietly walked toward the corridor.
Her steps felt heavy, and her mind went blank for a moment.
Butler Santana was waiting outside, and upon spotting Jasmine, he expressed surprise, "Miss Yale, why are you out so quickly? Didn't you see Mr. Cheney?"
Jasmine smiled, "I did see him, it's nothing."
"Why don't you stay a bit longer? Where are you going now?"
