Devoted Restoration 소설 & 이야기

Everything was fading. The last thing I heard was Sophie's shaking voice. "What is this on his collarbone?" "Miss Ryder, it says... 'Clone 001, Original Body: Marcus Lydell...'"

The Hollow King had not moved during the spear's light. He had stood at the doorway — the ancient stone door that had been his prison and his purpose simultaneously — and had watched Julia drive the Moon Goddess's instrument into the Devourer with the specific, focused attention of someone who has been waiting for a particular moment and is watching it occur. Not with anticipation. With something more complicated. The restoration moving through the Devourer was still in process — the origin frequency working through centuries of accumulated corruption the way certain things worked, slowly and completely, the Moon Goddess's design proving itself capable of exactly what it had been designed fo

At this moment, it was already a great achievement that she'd managed to maintain her composure and resist the urge to punch him. Stephen smiled slightly, saying, "It looks like you two get along well. Mr. Bamford, why not let Ms. Graham handle this collaboration with you?" Angela stiffened immediately, taken aback. How she wished she could strangle Stephen! Trevor looked quite happy with the idea. "Sure. With Angela here, I'm confident our collaboration will be a pleasant one." Afterward, Stephen left, leaving only Angela and a few others to accompany Trevor. Upon becoming an ambassador, Trevor's first task was to film an endorsement advertisement. Given that DawnStar Co. specialized in jew

"That's why I need you to tell him first. Before I make the formal proposal. Tell him an architect's commission is what an architect receives for their work. And the work is extraordinary. And it has his name on it and the only question is whether he wants to see it built." Rosa looked at her for a long moment. "He'll say yes," she said. "I know," Elena said. She looked at the dedication. Built for Elena Ashford, who restored it. She thought about what it meant to restore something. Not to rebuild from the beginning. Not to replicate. To find the place where it had failed and make it hold again. She thought about Marcus's definition of his own work. I restore things. Old things. Broken thing

"Come in." Taking in a deep breath I open the heavy doors to his office stepping into the large dark space, the door shutting behind me. Small warm lights line the walls, lighting up seconds of the room. I should have realised that his personality would be reflected in this room. The walls are black, and the flooring is such a rich dark brown it looks black with this lighting. One side of the room has large bookshelves, while the other appears to house many bottles of alcohol. Multiple glasses lined up on the side. There's also a gigantic black desk in the back of the room with a huge comfy chair that holds Alessandro Vito Lombardi's massive frame, who looks to be engaged in some important w

Behind me, Stella cried out in despair: "Matteo, didn't you love me for ten years? Do you have to be this cruel?" I didn't break stride, and her voice cracked. "I'm sorry, Matteo! I'm so sorry!" My fingers curled at her apology, but I didn't look back. Outside, the sunlight hit me, warm and golden. A decade was wasted on misplaced devotion, but I believed the future held happiness for me. After all, I'd found the girl who'd waited ten years for me.

And turned back to the task at hand. The restoration was just beginning.

I sat down, chewing my food in absolute fear and trembling throughout the meal. "Julian, dear," Brigitte continued smoothly, ignoring my glaring distress. "Georgia has been throwing a bit of a tantrum lately. Why don't you take her back with you for a few days? Talk some sense into her and rebuild your connection. We feel completely at ease knowing she's by your side." I watched in horror as those literal betrayal-fueled words fell from her lips. "We'll get along beautifully, Mrs. Harrington. Don't worry," Julian promised with a flawless smile.

I believed that those mistakes were being slowly corrected. Not erased, not denied, but gently amended—overwritten and softened by her presence, little by little, like a careful restoration of something once badly damaged. Not the crude act of repainting over cracks, but the patient work of a restorer: filling fractures, smoothing rough edges, allowing the original form to breathe again.

He realized that I was truly gone, and even if he wanted to get me back, there was no way. Kieran called his name a few more times, but with no response, he eventually hung up. Brandon buried his face in his hands and started sobbing. None of them could accept the truth—that I wasn't coming back. "We really lost Adeline..." ... The research went very smoothly. What should have taken ten years to complete was finished in eight years. Under the watchful eyes of national leaders, we conducted an official test of the weapon we had developed. The leaders were greatly impressed and shook each of our hands one by one. "Thank you for your hard work."