Rufus' POV:
When I found out that Crystal had yet another child, I felt a little uncomfortable.
And when she showed hostility and blocked me from entering her room to see her son, I felt even more uncomfortable. My discomfort was mixed with anger, but I wasn't sure why I was angry.
Sometimes, emotions weren't something that could be controlled by one's own consciousness.
I stood alone in the corridor and smoked a cigarette to calm down.
After a while, the doctor came out, but he was alone. My mother and Crystal were still in the room with the boy.
I wanted to know about my mother's health, so I personally escorted the doctor out and asked him about it. Before he left, I also asked him about the child's injury.
For some reason, the doctor looked terrified as soon as I asked this. He looked as though he was guilty of some unspeakable crime. There was hesitation in the way he spoke, and he was far from calm. But he was the director of the Royal Medical Research Institute—how could he now act like a clumsy green hand?
I frowned a little unhappily. "So is the boy seriously injured?"
The doctor gulped anxiously and answered, "No, no. It's not that serious."
"If it's not serious, then why is his head covered with so many bandages?"
When Crystal opened the door, although she had tried to block my sight, I saw a kid tucked in bed, wrapped in bandages.
The child was very young, around the same age as Beryl. The age difference had to be only one or two years at most.
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