C42 Death Is Always One Step Slower than Me

"I'm sorry..."

A soft voice pulled Roger's attention back from the city north camp that had turned into a sea of blood.

Little Joey, who was in his arms, showed an apologetic smile. Her hand cut across his face and tried to wipe the blood on his face. "I'm sorry, Lord Dior, it splashed on your face..."

"It's okay... Don't move. You're not in a good condition right now