Chapter 70

No.17's deep green eyes indeed carried a look of remorse. He dejectedly stared at the red mark and slid slightly into the water. Wet strands of hair fell over his eyes as he clutched his own tentacles in confusion. Elara pointed to herself and spoke softly, "If I don't want to do something, please respect my wishes. Can you do that, No.17?" No.17 looked at her—drenched from head to toe and wrapped in a blanket. He couldn't do anything but nod. "Good." She finally smiled. "Thank you for understanding." He nodded. "Good…" He was deeply regretful. Had he upset her? After drying herself off, Elara changed into a fresh outfit and lay down on the desk to rest. She knew No.17 was watching her. He was half-curled in the glass tank, stiff and motionless. His posture was one of absolute submission—like a desperate plea for forgiveness. With his strength, he could have forced Elara into submission with ease. Yet, despite his earlier fervor, he had never truly hurt her. He would never ha