Chapter 19

There was really no point in going on like this. Curtis suddenly let out a short laugh. He then flicked the ash off his cigarette and said, "Sorry, I'm busy." Marceline choked back her words, her cheeks flushing red in an instant. She bit down on her lip, eyes brimming with tears that refused to fall as she stared at him in silence. Curtis held a cigarette between his thin lips. When he saw her expression, he slowly removed it and tossed it into the trash. Then, he reached out and wiped away her tears with his uninjured hand. There were faint calluses on his fingertips. He was a skilled fighter, after all. Before the Wolfe family brought him back, he could take on 20 people by himself. He had clawed his way up from the bottom, stepping on too many toes along the way. Countless ambushes had honed his reflexes into razor sharpness. He had also taught himself to fight with knives, staffs, crossbows, and even firearms. As a result, the calluses on his fingertips were slightly rough,