Fifteen's fingers on the door suddenly lost warmth.
"Really?" the Fox smiled lightly, "Then what does Mr. Phoebe care about?"
"Where is Satan?" Phoebe demanded.
"Satan?" the Fox raised an eyebrow, "Who is that?"
Phoebe raised a brow and then chuckled softly.
He covered the Fox's mouth and nose with his hand, unceremoniously pulling the trigger, the bullet fired from the silencer-equipped gun, hitting the Fox's body.
With her mouth and nose covered, the Fox didn't make a sound, her body softly sliding down the wall.
The Fox's eyes widened, her face upturned, staring at Phoebe in disbelief.
How is this possible, she clearly gave him a drugged drink, how could he still be alert after so much time?
"Very strange, isn't it?" Phoebe looked down at her, a wicked smile on his lips, "I drank that cup of wine, and yet I'm fine?"
In his lifetime, he has drunk almost more red wine than water.
