Liu Lingyan winced beneath the cold, unreadable stare that Daoist Ryuu levelled at her. Of all the expressions she'd imagined on his face, anger, disappointment, even mockery, his complete apathy shattered her most.
She could only sit in the confinement ward and curse her foolishness.
The night before had been a haze—she'd had too much to drink, which, in itself, wasn't entirely out of character. But how it had escalated into some ludicrous challenge, one that ended with her injecting herself with the virus was the real tragedy. She couldn't even remember why she accepted, or worse, who had dared her in the first place.
And when Ryuu had found out?
His expression had been like a blade—disappointment and fury sharpened into silence. No rage. No shouting. Just that look.
And it hurt more than any scolding ever could.
Now she sat, sullen and aching, trying to suppress the viral surge within her system. A sharp, biting pain shot up her spine as her emotions slipped again.
