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Chapter 488: Whose Fault Is It? （2）

Roland frowned, and suddenly remembered that when he first met Adler in the Demon Banquet League, she was just a lively girl following Mavis, and her eyes were not as red as blood, but as clear as a red rose that had been translucent.

Roland suddenly realized that maybe Adler hadn't done anything wrong, she just wanted what she wanted.

Adler looked through the gap between his fingers at Roland's still good-looking face, as it had seen at first sight, like a smile on a sunny face, but those smiles were never directed at him.

The deep and terrifying blood prison, the same age is only in his thirties, and the same age as a flower should be when he should be pitied and pampered, but he was played with and defiled by the jailers by the male prisoners without any ability to resist, tossing and turning in every cell, being played with by those male prisoners as toys to vent their desires, and being used to hearing the roars of those men, accustomed to the rough tearing of those men, rough entry and ravage, and the bruised and red body of the body, it really hurts.

Please, save me, or kill me.

She doesn't know who to call for help, God? Or sister?

When she was tortured, all she thought about was the blue eyes that she had seen at the banquet that day, which had been neglected and abandoned, but with such a beautiful smile on her lips. Such beautiful eyes, if they could see them again, there must have been a good smell on his body, not as disgusting as the smell of these prisoners.

When she is ravaged and tortured, she will resist at first, but later she will find that obedience sometimes gets more, and as long as she is willing to cater to those men in the blood prison, she can make a nice voice instead of blindly crying and resisting, maybe she will get a mouthful of blood to keep her alive.

If she could feel the sun, Roland's smile would be so warm.

She used to be a little girl who was pampered by her sister, she wasn't dirty at all, not at all.

She had waited three hundred years, three hundred years for someone to deliver her from that hell of pain that was boundless for her, and she was waiting for Eliad.

She looked up at Eliad in prison with her knees crossed, and the figure of Eliad standing in the backlight was extraordinarily tall, and the illiad shrouded in light made her think that there would really be a God in the world who heard her prayers and came to save her from her suffering.

Eliad took pity on her and left her in Ales, who had been tempered for three hundred years and was no longer the girl she had been, and she had seen her sister who had raised her tied to the top of the pyramid to be burned alive by the sun, and she was thrown into a bloody prison in endless pain.

No one cares if she lives or dies.

No one loves her.

In fact, she has always known, but she doesn't want to admit it, she has been imagining that someone loves her, but the only person who loves her is dead.

My sister died, and the person who killed my sister was Vera, she took everything, everything was her fault, and the person who was supposed to be with Eliad was her sister.

So she hated Vera, hated Moro who looked like Vera, but she couldn't hate Eliade.

Eliade was only amend-making for her, only pity and nothing more, and his heart and eyes would always be Molo, for it was his daughter, and Vera's daughter.