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A man was lying on top of a luxurious bed, an expensive Swedish-crafted custom bed to be exact, with his eyes closed in silence.
A blonde woman sat beside him and gently placed her hand on his cheek. She stroked his face delicately as if handling a treasure and faintly sighed. “Mr. Oh-Jin…”
Isabella, an incomparable beauty, looked down at Kwon Oh-Jin with trembling eyes.
It had been a week since Kwon Oh-Jin left for the subconscious world. A single week couldn’t possibly compare to the two years she had waited.
“Haaa…”
Perhaps the video had filled her with hope. For some reason, this one week felt even more unbearable than the two years before.
She continued to stroke his cheek and sighed deeply when a bright halo of light burst from Kwon Oh-Jin’s chest.
Woong!
“Huh?” In her excitement, Isabella roughly tore open his shirt. “M-Mr. Oh-Jin!”
The left side of his chest could be seen through the shredded fabric.
“Ah…”
The Stigma of Lyra glowed brilliantly.
With trembling fingers, she gently traced the Stigma on his chest. “Twelve stars?”
Her eyes widened as she touched the twelve strokes engraved beside his Stigma. To make sure she wasn’t imagining it, she compared it with the Stigma on her own chest.
“T-Twelve… It’s really twelve!”
A shiver ran down her spine.
She had wiped his body with a wet cloth every day, so she knew better than anyone that he originally had only eleven strokes beside his Stigma. The fact that it now had twelve...
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