Harold refused to remain silent, his dissatisfaction mounting.

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, he hissed vehemently, “Every time you visit Elvira, have you ever considered Rena’s feelings?

Given her nature, I truly don’t understand why she agreed to go to Flirean. But now, she has finally come to her senses and left you… You blockhead. I take pleasure in seeing you suffer.”

Harold lunged forward, ready to strike Waylen.

No one dared to intervene, for it was clear that nothing could stop Harold. Observing Waylen’s readiness to retaliate, the others present decided to allow them to settle their differences through physical confrontation.

Waylen emerged from the confines of the enclosure, stepping out into the open.

His pristine white shirt bore crimson stains, remnants of the altercation, most of which belonged to Harold.

In the corridor, he ignited a cigarette, allowing the smoke to waft languidly through the air as he indulged in a leisurely puff.

Regardless of his disdain towards Harold, he foeceandy. acknowledged the truth in some of Harold’s words.

From the outside, Waylen’s relationship with Rena appeared balanced, yet concealed beneath the surface, it was she who constantly yielded.

To make things worse, he had taken her sacrifices for granted.

Harold had spoken the truth; Waylen had callously disregarded Rena’s emotions as a woman.

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He continued to smoke at a leisurely pace.

He possessed an attractive countenance, exuding an air of nobility that held an irresistible allure for women.

Within the Mellowny Club, Harold maintained an affair with an escort named Lillian, whose resemblance to Rena was uncanny.

Lillian had encountered Waylen once before at the police station.

During that encounter, she sensed a distinct change in the way Waylen regarded her, thus, upon their current meeting, thoughts of him consumed her. Even if this man desired nothing more than a fleeting liaison, she would find contentment in a single night spent together.

Waylen captivated Lillian’s attention.

Boldly, she approached him, gently caressing his handsome visage. “Mr. Fowler, would you care to share a drink with me?”

Waylen possessed discerning tastes.

He harbored an intense aversion towards any unfamiliar woman making physical contact too.

Having consumed alcohol, he forcefully pushed Lillian away, causing her slender frame to collide with the opposite wall, eliciting a cry of pain.

Hearing the commotion, the club manager hurriedly made his way over.

Initially, it seemed like a trivial matter.

Yet, as Waylen beheld Lillian’s face with clarity, he was struck by an overwhelming shock.

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