▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆ CHAPTER SEVEN THE REVENGE OF A DYING PRESIDENT
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Namjoon let go of my hand when it turned out that it was now his job to step up and find a solution. Even though none of this had been his fault, everyone expected him of all people to find out what was happening. They had cast him out, thrown him to the side because he was from the capitol, but now, as danger lurked, they wanted the protection they hadn't awarded him.
Every part of me wondered how Namjoon managed to keep walking and talking with a straight face. His strength only reminded me once again of my weaknesses.
The girl with the braids on the other hand, Wheein, grabbed my hand as soon as she saw Namjoon let go. She didn't speak a word to me, nor did she send a glance in my direction, no, all she did was hold my hand and give it an occasional squeeze. She was comforting me, and even though a small voice kept shouting at me in my head that I didn't deserve it, I welcomed the sensation. I gripped her hand tighter and when it looked like for a moment that she was going to leave, I pulled her closer again. She didn't look at me, not once, not even when I did that, but for now, she stayed.
Seeing the President on a screen for the first time in a long time was a very odd experience. She was deathly pale, her skin even taking on a greenish hue, and her eyes were teary and bloodshot. Her hair that in the past had always been neatly braided, now looked disheveled and oily. Her gray roots were showing.
All of this was scary, but nothing was scarier than the crazed look in her eyes that glinted dangerously. I shuddered at the thought of eye contact with such a woman.
"I'm not like my son, I wouldn't choose a poison that kills with no pain, no, I think you all know me well enough for that," she said, her lips curling up into a hateful smile. I clenched Wheein's hand tightly as I witnessed the blood stains on her teeth.
