Carrying Fifteen into the room, he casually threw her onto the bed.
"Take off your clothes yourself."
Take off clothes?
Upon hearing these three words, Fifteen's short-circuited mind tensed up.
Her eyes, which were originally closed, opened halfway as she squinted at Phoebe.
"I won't take them off!"
"Suit yourself."
Phoebe stepped forward, reached out to pull off her flat shoes, and supported her shoulders with his hand.
His intention was to prop her body up, pull away the thin quilt she was pressing, and cover her.
As a result, Fifteen clearly misunderstood his actions, thinking he meant her harm.
"Get away!"
She raised her hand and threw a punch.
Fifteen was supporting herself with one hand and pulling the quilt with the other.
At such a close distance, and with her sudden action, even he couldn't dodge in time.
The fist grazed the side of his face, past his ear.
The ring on her index finger scraped his skin, leaving a noticeable blood mark and blood oozing out.
