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... red marks on Rin’s cheeks, her bruised throat and then the rope burns along her wrists and legs.
I put a hand on my chin, moving my gaze to Illyasviel von Einzbern.
Despite her innocent face, she was not a child, not a puppet, and not being fooled into this by someone. What she did, she chose to. By her own will, she decided that she wanted to have her little Berserker rip me limb from limb when first we met.
Even now, with how she was clenching her small fists in frustra ...
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