I'm Reborn, but My Obsession With Him Is Not
His hair was matted and dry, and a sour smell drifted from it.
I felt my breath hitching as soon as I looked at the man's eyes. They were dull and lifeless, yet unmistakably tinged with a familiar, obsessive intensity.
It turned out that the man was none other than Zachary.
I remained motionless, my mind emptied of all thought. That face—which had represented longing, then loathing—was now just a picture of utter decline. His eyes were deeply hollowed, his cheekbones were prominent, and his skin barely clung to the structure beneath.