"Ivar Rodbrock..."
Inside the room, Hebdo whispered this familiar name, looking up at the dim ceiling, lost in his thoughts.
Lorenzo guessed Hebdo was reading a novel, but he was only half right.
The table lamp emitted a warm light, making the entire room cozy, but it couldn't dispel the gloom in Hebdo's heart. It was like a flickering candle flame, seemingly about to be engulfed entirely by the darkness of the room in the next second.
Hebdo leaned against the headboard, with "Victoria's Secret" resting on his knees. He glanced through a few pages, trying to set aside the chaotic thoughts, but he couldn't. His mind was entirely occupied by the task, with one anticipated scene after another flashing before his eyes.
He didn't tell Lorenzo, but actually, Hebdo was one of Ivar's only friends... It's not entirely accurate to say so. To be precise, Hebdo was one of the very few, apart from Ivar's brothers, willing to approach him.
