I Became a Villainess Werewolf In My Own Novel
Quentin looked at me, displaying a typical expression from romance novels - his eyes glistened, his brows furrowed slightly, and he unconsciously pursed his lips, "Are you blaming me?"
"No," I replied, confused.
Quentin’s expression was truly lethal. Even I, who had biases against him, felt I was going too far.
Quentin asked, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Won't you be happy if I treat you?"
I compromised, "Fine, go ahead."
After saying that, I turned my head to look at the tree shadows reflected on the balcony floor.
Quentin smiled slightly. As he opened the iodine bottle, I asked him in a sinister tone, "Quentin, are you this kind to everyone?"
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