"I said—"
"If it's a topic about that guy, then let's skip it."
"I haven't even started talking yet."
"Because you're always defending him, always helping him find excuses."
The hot water switch tightened, and Robin's cold voice drifted through the bathroom.
"He's not a child anymore, and you're not his parent. If he has something to say or wants to express something to others, he should say it himself. That's the most basic courtesy and sincerity toward others."
"What you said is true, but don't you think the way you said it just now sounds like a strict father disciplining his son?"
The scent of honey and lilies wafted in from the stall, but as it reached Robin's nose, it instantly reminded her of the smell of blood, the stench of rotting corpses, and the acrid odor of burned flesh—human and otherwise.
—It seems I'm truly losing my grip.
