Roman suddenly raised the box of lunch in his hands, his lips pressed together in a thin line. His eyes fell on Valencia, and he spoke, “Even with that wounded hand, you made this box… Thanks.”

Valencia made a face and puckered her lips in unhappiness. Who wanted to make this for him? If he didn’t threaten her, she wouldn't. “It’s not for you…”

Roman calmly interrupted, his eyes not falling on Valencia even for once. “Yes, I know. It’s to buy back yourself, isn’t ...