Chapter 605
Charmine frowned. Who would use darts these days? The attacker was proficient with them, too!
Throwing ten darts, one after another, was a display of stellar wrist strength.
The darts were homing in from different trajectories: from above, below, left, and right. They were coming from almost all directions!
Getting to the door was their only safe option.
Alas, the door was closed and there was no time to even get to the door!
She gave her undivided focus on the darts and parried.
Charmine shuffled in her footwork, raising her leg and kicking away the darts as they came.
She took up a stuffed toy and swung it nimbly, using it as a shield. Just like that, the darts were flicked away.
Before the assassinator could register her movements, almost all the darts were countered.
All but one dart, alas, that aimed for Charmine's ankle.
Charmine almost seemed to have missed the one dart flying below.
The assassinator chuckled devilishly; it was good enough to hurt her ankle!
Keen-eyed Tristan noticed the dart, however, as he launched toward Charmine, pulling her away to dodge the dart.
Yet, it was still too slow.
As he launched over, the dart that aimed for Charmine's ankle brushed past Tristan’s ankle.
He hissed in pain, one that could be heard.
Charmine lowered her head to see Tristan's ankle sock torn-his ankle had a big dent with fresh blood oozing out!
Tristan was hurt!
As the assassinator slowly emerged, Kay-who, at a distance, kept a watchful eye on Charmine-rushed out of Muse Club as he gave chase.
The assassinator wanted to land more blows when he noticed Kay rushing toward him speedily, and he was ready to run away.
However, Kay chased after him with agility and caught him. 1
It was only after the attacker was taken down did Charmine allow herself to calm down. She looked at Tristan and asked, "Why did you help me? I don’t need you to."
She was actually aware of that dart. She was about to do something when Tristan launched over.
Tristan glanced at his bleeding ankle. Even though his face had turned pale from the pain, and that his naturally red lips had gone paler, he still smiled a flirtatious smile. "What? My sweetie is worried? I won't mind having your hand in marriage as thanks."
Charmine remained silent at that.
After a short moment of silence, she looked at him suspiciously. "Speak: what's your objective of getting close to me?"
Objective?
Tristan frowned. "I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Sweetie."
"You somehow magically appeared after my tire punctured. When I went downstairs from the office building, I just somehow knocked your stack of pizzas down. Here we are, with you hurt from protecting me. Don't say these are all coincidences, Tristan Walker. I ain't a three-year-old." 1
Charmine's voice was sharp and pointed as she was strangely calm and rational.
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