He muttered nonchalantly inside the sound that Vivian would curse with a silent expression when she heard it.
âSo who are you?â
He spoke ill of good luck, raising one corner of his mouth.
Thatcher could have revealed that he had nothing to do with Vivian. However, he cautioned that whoever the opponent is, he does not shy away from the battle. To the extent that oneâs own safety is guaranteed. He had a great network and a great deal of female experience with his natural force and appearance.
He was confident that anyone, scholar or noble, would be absolutely safe. Most of the scholar men were from commoners or low-ranking aristocrats, and if they were twisted by Vivian, they would be less than enough. Theyâll never be able to do anything about him.
âIsnât he the one who bullied our writer before?â
Then Vivian replied.
âWhat are you talking about?â
âNo, you know what? The one who stole the notebook.â
âWellâŠâ
âYouâve been bullied, havenât you? Thatâs how hard it must have been for our writer.â
In addition, the man seemed to be offended, so he kept emphasizing the word âourâ.
âI felt bad for our writer because she couldnât sleep and was struggling to remember what was written on her notebook. I wanted to do everything for our writer when she was having a hard time. I really care about our writer. Our most precious writer in the world.â
Our writerâŠ
The closer Thatcher became, the colder Aidenâs face hidden in the hood became. At first glance, his jaw began to strain as if he had clenched his teeth.
Standing almost in his arms, Vivian suddenly felt a gruesome chill.
Somehow she became increasingly anxious and spoke in defense of Aiden.
âIt was a long time ago.â
âHow can it not have happened just because itâs over? Idea notes mean more to our writer than life.â
But Thatcher continued to babble, unaware of the importance of his life.
Then Aiden cut off Thatcherâs endless words in the middle and opened his mouth.
âWhatâs going on between you two?â
Vivian then looked him in the eye and replied.
âRayâŠâŠ No, heâs a childhood friend. Iâve known him since I was very young.â
âItâs a very special relationship thatâs been going on since we were young.â
His expression of special relationship once again turned her face into a piece of shit. Heâs been pooping out of his mouth for a while now.
Whatâs wrong with him all of a sudden? No matter how hungry he was for the manuscript, isnât that too much?
âHey, whatâs so special aboutâŠâ
Thatcher snapped at Vivian and asked.
âWho is he, then? Lover?â
âHeâs not my lover.â
When Vivian responded like a knife to Thatcherâs words, Aidenâs gaze fixed upon her.
He couldnât believe he was not a lover. He couldnât help it. Last time he saw Vivien, she bragged about having a boyfriend.
There seems to have been something between the two, but they are not clearly defined in their relationship. Is there something wrong with them? He didnât know the exact circumstances.
What does she mean heâs not a lover? Neither her nor that person seems to think so.
It is a woman who speaks with a lingering voice, or a man who immediately shows signs of agitation when he is told that he is not a lover.
Thatcher looked at the two with sharp eyes and concluded: A man and a woman are shoveling in pairs.
I thought Vivian would hide in her shell and turn big once in a while because she was afraid sheâd get hurt in a relationship.
Thatcher slapped his tongue inside, but he never intended to meddle in other peopleâs love affairs. And somehow he didnât mean to make that prick do anything good. He just shut up pretending not to know because he wasnât there.
When youâre in a relationship, you misunderstand each other, you fight, you break up. Donât you think you need that kind of experience to write more mature novels?
He shrugged his shoulders and led them in. After asking them to sit roughly in the drawing room, he brewed three cups of tea in the kitchen, and brought them back, smiling for business purposes that was prevalent on his face.
The intentions of both hands, respectfully, were clear.
âIt looks real.â
Vivian looked at him fed up and stuck out the manuscript as if to eat it and die.
Thatcher began to read the manuscript with anticipated eyes as if he had waited. The attitude of being light had changed to serious as if he had been a different person.
How long has it been? His brown eyes glistened and sparkled when the manuscript passed at a very rapid pace to the beginning and middle parts.
Persuasive flowing content, thrilling tension, double tracks, perfect puzzlesâŠâŠ and perfect âlove affairâ that can never be left out of an erotic novel.
The fear, anguish, pain, and pleasure of the first experience were all contained, making even the viewer nervous or excited. It was natural that Perdiâs writing controlled the reader.