“Show your hands.”

Brendan stood in front of the window, his flawless face radiating coldness at that very moment. He was even speaking in a tone deprived of its prior gentleness.

“What…. What happened?” Charlene stretched out her hands with a forced chuckle. “What happened… Why are you being so serious? You’re making me nervous.”

Brendan examined her nails. It had only been two days since the incident, so her nails had yet to grow much. They had been manicured into a stiletto shape, making them pointy in the middle. If she were to dig her nails hard into someone’s flesh, it would be considered merciful for the victim to experience puncture wounds and not lose chunks of flesh.

“Did you do something to your nails?” asked Brendan with narrowed eyes.

“Huh?” Charlene pulled back her hands with a guilty conscience. “I’m not really sure. I got a fresh manicure two days ago. Perhaps they have been polished a little?”

“Did you cause the injury on Deirdre’s hands?”

All the blood drain