Upon glimpsing the two figures lurking in the shadows, the impostor Ive was taken aback. He raised his right hand and pointed accusingly at Lumian, his voice filled with inquiry.
"Who are you? Why are you pretending to be me?"
As he berated, he hastened his pace, pulling himself out of the tunnel and leaping onto level ground.
In the past, Lumian would have charged forward, ready for close combat or drawing his revolver to unleash a barrage of bullets at his foe. He would have granted no opportunity for words. But this time, for some inexplicable reason, he yearned to put on a show. He desired to witness the other party's abilities before seizing the perfect moment to display his own.
Without an adversary, there would be no performance!
Franca shared the same sentiment. She eagerly longed to stand in for Lumian, refraining from an immediate attack.
