Ang watched Quintina silently. She kept her head lowered, her expression complicated and restrained. No matter how he probed, she refused to speak. He sighed inwardly, though none of it showed on his face. With a slightly teasing tone, he said, "Since you don't want to tell me, I'll make you tell me yourself." Before his words had even faded, he grabbed Quintina and lifted her up.
Quintina cried out, but Ang's sudden movement scared her speechless. She struggled, twisting in midair, but Ang's hand was as steady as an iron vise, leaving her no chance of breaking free. Then Ang broke into a rapid run. The freezing wind slashed across Quintina's face like blades, whipping her long hair into a frenzy until she could barely breathe.
"What are you doing?!" Quintina finally shrieked.
Ang did not answer. He simply kept running until he returned to where they had been before, then set Quintina down. Her legs went weak, and she nearly collapsed to her knees. She was breathing hard, her face deathly pale. That high-speed run had made her feel as though she could be flung away at any moment and smashed against the rocks, the image of blood and mangled flesh impossible to shake from her mind.
"Are you crazy?!" she demanded, trembling.
Ang ignored her complaint. He merely folded his arms and looked down at her, his voice cold yet carrying an unquestionable pressure. "Can you talk now?"
Quintina bit her lip tightly, lowered her head, and said nothing.
Seeing this, Ang's gaze sharpened. He slowly crouched down until he was level with Quintina, then said in a somewhat lighter tone, "Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll guess. Does this have something to do with the Black Magic Society?"
At the mention of the Black Magic