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Shera pivoted her gaze toward Ryan.

“Be patient. The grand stage has not yet unfurled its destined act.”

Shera’s brow furrowed, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Could you elaborate? What lies beneath your words?”

Ryan’s lips curled into a sneer as he went on.

“Marcus sustained a significant injury. Despite his facade of appearing fine, he’s merely concealing his emotions. That wound will fester and give rise to complications, manifesting as emotional instability, irritability, and moodiness. Sooner or later, his true disposition will surface.”

Shera’s brows arched upward in sheer surprise. Had Marcus truly met with a grave injury? Ryan’s assertion held its ground; indeed, Marcus was wrestling with the tumultuous throes of an irritable disorder.

“How did he get this injury?”

Might this wound be a harbinger of his demise? Shera’s concern unfurled like a restless banner.

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“No need to regard me with that expression. I’m innocent in this matter. Bruce was behind it.” This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Bruce? Shera would undoubtedly take umbrage with whomever had inflicted harm upon Marcus.

“Thus, surrender not to despondency. Due to the accident involving you, Marcus is lugging the weight of remorse. Harness his penitence to your advantage, and the path shall unfurl with ease.”

With these words imparted, Ryan’s fingers choreographed a dance upon ignition. An assignment awaited them at the Devil Bar, where rendezvous with others had been ordained.

Following his departure from Villa Imperiale, Marcus proceeded straight to the corporate office. He concluded his tasks as late as ten o’clock in the evening. Upon exiting the company premises, he glanced at his phone and discovered a message from Harlan. The message urged him to join at Devil Bar.

At Devil Bar, Harlan occupied Box Six. Marcus entered after pushing the door ajar. While the adjoining rooms resounded with boisterous music and chatter, this specific space remained remarkably tranquil.

Perched on the sofa, Harlan lifted his head and said, “Ah, there you are. No drinks for you. How about a round of singing or a bite to eat?”

As Marcus removed his coat, casually draping it over the sofa’s armrest, he settled down. The uneven illumination cast gentle shadows across his striking countenance as he retorted in an aloof tone, “Have you ever heard me sing?”

Having pointed out Marcus’s shortcomings, Harlan smiled, a faint smile curling across his lips.

It appeared that Marcus was a man of many talents, save for serenading and childbirth.

Upon detecting Marcus’s somber disposition, Harlan’s thoughts turned to the young lady capable of brightening his mood.

“Why didn’t you bring that young lady along? Solely the pair of us, an assemblage devoid of zest.”

Harlan had been occupying the dimly illuminated room for a good two hours prior to Marcus’s arrival, feeling thoroughly unentertained.

“She headed out to the countryside,” Marcus disclosed as he helped himself to a glass of chilled tea, enhancing it with a few ice cubes.

As it turned out, she had ventured to the rural regions.