Clayton stayed silent, and just when I thought he was about to leave, letting me breathe a sigh of relief, he darkly uttered, "You, come with me."
"On what grounds?"
Eleanor often fled because Clayton's old flame would stir up trouble, one day demanding blood, the next a kidney swap.
My blood type didn't match his old flame's—surely he wasn't planning to harvest my kidneys for a gourmet dish?
"You can refuse."
Clayton maintained his lofty demeanor, scorn flickering in his eyes, "Then the project with your company gets axed immediately."
Oh?
It hit me then; my role owned an interior design firm, now at the mercy of the mighty Blackwood Corporation.
The CEO of Blackwood Corporation is none other than Clayton Blackwood himself!
The despicable capitalist!
In my mind, I cursed Clayton out thoroughly, about to demand he should leave with dignity, when a strange voice suddenly echoed in my head.
"Dear host, remember, you're here with a mission. Only by transforming the tragic ending into a happy ending can you return to the real world!"
What the hell?
Is this some kind of joke?
Targeting my key to return, I took a deep breath, almost hurting myself internally, "Fine, I'll go wherever you say."