Chapter 1918

Persephone had never witnessed the cruelty of life, nor had she fathomed the extent to which it could push a person. While her brother, back in the Hamertons, had a boxing trainer to enhance his physique as a personal interest, Morpheus engaged in it for survival. The realization hit her, and a wave of sadness washed over Persephone, prompting tears to fall. She struggled to speak, her voice choked. "Who... was it... Who subjected you to such brutality... Does it... hurt?" Morpheus' heart tightened at her words. Slowly, he turned to face her, questioning if the glistening tears on her face were for him. Touched by the unspoken emotion, he refrained from expressing it overtly. After a prolonged silence, he handed her a bottle of ointment. In the darkness, his deep voice resonated. "I can't reach my back, indeed. Please apply this for me." Persephone was taken aback. Wiping away her tears, she accepted the bottle. As she ceased crying, he softened his demeanor. In the quiet house,