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Chapter 337 - 331: The Taste of Iron
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... was already standing, the screen forgotten, the stylus abandoned mid-note, his breath catching in his throat the moment he saw the bloom of red soaking through white.
It wasn’t a trickle. Not a paper-cut smear. It looked like Damian had coughed out a chunk of his lungs.
Damian blinked at it like a man observing an inconvenient stain on a report, as though it were mildly rude to bleed before breakfast.
"Huh," he murmured, his tone flat with curiosity. "Well, that’s dramati ...
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