The cries of Mr. Martin were the melodies that blessed the night all the way to the morning of the next day.
Lenny sat on a couch in the corner, a good distance away from the operating table he had used.
Yet, Mr. Martin had stretched his brain cells from the table all the way across the room, looking like a long line of dried-up noodles all the way to where Lenny sat, just to hand Lenny his core.
In fact, even in this state, he practically begged Lenny to take it from his hands.
Naturally, Lenny obliged after much pleading for death.
The moment he did, the extended brain cells shriveled up and fell to the ground, becoming dust.
Mr. Martin had truly died.
Lenny was taken aback by this. He remembered his conversation with Vine. According to what she told him, half-borns were not supposed to be able to consume the cores of others.
