"Are you calling me fragile?"
"Maybe."
Orson shook his head with a faint smile as he watched Blank's smug figure walk away. Sometimes, that woman was oddly amusing.
He never thought of himself as especially strong. The reason he had come this far was simple—an inner gravity he couldn't resist.
That pull came from the people he cared about in both his past and present lives: brothers, friends, and family.
He had seen what tragedy looked like. That was why he chose to stand in front of them all.
A man who has already died once… has nothing left to fear.
There were less than five hours until the War Supreme Summit.
Before that, he had to settle this—once and for all.
Alive, I'll find him. Dead, I'll bury him myself.
Orson still carried a trace of guilt toward Drunken Dream.
He was the one who encouraged him to rise again, who had promised to clean out the Upton Family trash for him.
But he'd been too confident.
