C841 The Sound of Iron Shackles Jingling in Prison

The officer in charge of the court handed me a thin sheet of paper.

I smelled blood.

The large, dark red words were displayed on the white paper. The words were still as ugly and distorted as before.

My hand suddenly shook, and the veins on my wrist began to throb.

"master:

I know I'm making things difficult for you.

So I don't want to embarrass you