Sylvia's POV:
Geoffrey didn't look surprised when I showed up. He glanced at the werewolves from outside the wall in disgust. "I just did what I had to do."
"Then what's the difference between what you're doing now and what the royal family did to you? For the sake of your own interests and the welfare of most werewolves here, you gave up your compatriots outside the wall," I pointed out loudly, gesturing at the bloody mess here. "Look at all of these dead bodies as a result of the chaos. Look at the children who have lost their loved ones and are crying bitterly for their parents. What's the difference between them and you in the past?"
"This is different! They're so lowly and don't deserve to live!" Geoffrey glared at me fiercely. "Don't you dare stand there and make claims about something that has nothing to do with you. Do you think you can tell me what to do? You're young and naive, Sylvia."
I sneered coldly. "'Lowly'? Didn't the werewolves you abandoned also come from that period of time? Their parents and elders were also among those who bravely resisted the vampires outside the wall and built the wall tirelessly night and day. If they found out that you treated their descendants like this, would they be able to rest in peace?"
Geoffrey stuttered incoherently, rendered speechless by what I said. After a while, he grew desperate and threw his arms in the air. "I don't care! They're dead. They're gone!"
I looked at him with disdain. "You have a guilty conscience, but you still refuse to admit it."
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