A first-rate Wiktorian mansion was located in a secluded and quiet area on the East Side. It was Justin's private residence. Outsiders were unaware of its existence.

Sheryl arrived in the early hours of the morning, rushing to report to Justin, only to bump into Remy, who exuded an unmistakable air of coldness.

His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn't slept in days.

A menacing vibe surrounded him, and his eyes burned with feral intensity. Sheryl felt unsettled and longed to flee his presence.

"You're like a ghoul," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes before knocking on the door to enter Justin's study.

Remy remained expressionless in the face of her contemptuous remark. He followed her into

the room.

study, Justin sat in his wheelchair, idly toying with a colorful cockatiel

cockatiel at The Millenium. A devoted follower of Justin, the former idolized the latter, mimicking his habits

a

bred obsession. The desire to merge with the idol,

recording," Sheryl said, stepping forward. She pulled out her phone and, in Remy's

the words promise' and 'see you there, rain or shine",

positivity was palpable,

had someone hack into Jasper's car's dashcam to retrieve this recording

dissatisfaction. "It's a shame we

is priceless to

you

gaze grew dark, his voice low and measured. "There's something

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