The Heart of the Bionic Man

"Do you think I'm going to threaten you with my face?" I sneered.

But that was not enough.

Brian abandoned his fame and fortune and committed crimes to flee here in search of the perfect model in his heart.

He was a paranoid and lawless artist.

I clenched the hem of my dress and lifted a corner of its intricate and long hemline. I stood on tiptoe and twirled like a doll dancing in a music box.

I was dressed in the purple gradient dress he had given me. The lavender color on the sleeves gradually deepened to the mysterious and rich purple layers of veils.

"How could such a cold and arrogant dress belong to such an obedient and reserved woman?" I tapped the knife's tip with my finger, and the blade glistened with coldness.

It was not sharp enough.

"You have also found that the dresses you made had no souls," I continued.

Brian didn't respond but his slumped shoulders and dim eyes had already given me an answer.