"Ah..." With a gasp, Titus Zane quickly leaped out of the bed.
Shivering, he hugged his shoulders, trembling uncontrollably.
Most of his body was already drenched, and drops of water were dripping from the bed onto the floor, making a ticking sound.
It felt as if something obscured his vision.
Titus Zane lifted his head and then saw the gloomy-faced man standing over him, looking down.
His mind somewhat foggy, Titus Zane couldn't recall how he had provoked him again.
After being thrown onto the bed by Nathan Moore, he had fallen into a deep, fitful sleep, without covering himself with a blanket. It was spring and already quite cold; now, doused in an entire basin of cold water, he felt utterly chilled to the core.
Looking at the somber-faced man in front of the bed, Titus Zane's pupils were cloudy with the mist of alcohol, and he couldn't help shivering again as his teeth clattered together.
