This was a cold, dust-covered room.
How should one describe this room?
It was full of signs of hasty construction.
Wood chips drifted through the air, tangled together in clumps.
The massive sound of the door slamming shut made the wooden door tremble.
The once-dim room was instantly flooded with light, leaving every corner plainly visible.
There were no unnecessary furnishings in this room.
A table made of wood.
A man reclining in a chair.
A huge starfish submerged in a water tank, along with a map hanging on the wall.
That was everything in the room.
It looked extremely crude, and it truly was extremely crude.
As the wooden door was pushed open, the sand and stones around the walls shook as well.
Trevor slowly raised his eyes.
Beams of light pierced the darkness and streamed into the cabin, striking his face and making him squint.
Trevor knew who he was, and he also knew everything that had happened outside just now.
How should he describe his current feelings? He had plotted so much, anticipated so much, and sacrificed so many people, yet just as countless thoughts, ideas, and doubts could all be crushed beneath an unyielding iron fist, an objective fact now stood before him: Jino had foiled his plan and destroyed his conspiracy.
His ideals and revenge had been effortlessly destroyed by the young man in that instant. Though he had long guessed and expected this outcome, when it truly happened before his eyes, he was shocked to discover that he lacked the courage and resolve to bear it. He was unwilling to fail, afraid of failure, terrified of failure, and fearful of failure, but in the end, he had still failed.
Should he blame the enemy for being too strong, or blame himself for being too