Number 667 has been busy in front of the Turing Gate since yesterday, trying all kinds of tricks to catch Turing's attention, but Turing didn't even give him a second glance. Whether it was the childish antics outside the gate or various lies to coax Turing out of her room, these tricks really had no effect on Turing.
However, it must be said that he was quite adept at manipulating girls' thoughts, and his audacity knew no bounds. In just two days, he had gathered quite a bit of information from Turing, including the fact that she had a fiancé. He even had a vague understanding of how Turing had been wrongfully imprisoned for a noble cause.
"Hehe... I made a mistake yesterday, I apologize to you." "But today, I am sure." "Would you please give me a chance to express my apology?" Number 667 slowly bent down, making himself appear smaller, a bit gentler in front of the delicate Turing. He used a gentle and sunny tone, his body subtly trying to get closer. His restless hand propped against the door, using the right side of his body to half-encircle Turing, almost trying to pin her to the wall.
"Let me treat you to a meal. Later, I'll take you to the visiting area." "You've been staying in your room reading and sleeping ever since you arrived at the prison, without even eating properly, right?" "I... uh..." Number 667 looked at Turing's darkening face, awkwardly shrunk his neck, realizing he had gotten too close. "Hehe, well... I'm just concerned about Your Highness's health."
Number 667 was not worried that Turing would get angry; in fact, chasing after a girl required a thick skin. Typically, those strong-willed women with high self-esteem often needed to go through a process of teasing and suppression. He also was not concerned about violence from Turing, as magic was not allowed in the prison. Turing's worst would probably just be a few punches to the chest — in this regard, women were not as physically imposing as men.
What he worried about was his charm. The sweet words that always worked in the club seemed to have lost their effect. Even if she did have a fiancé, was it necessary to completely ignore him? Did she really not even want to be friends? Could it be... that my professional skills were really lacking?
Thinking of this, Number 667 felt a bit frustrated, and his expression couldn't help but show some loneliness. But his forlorn look did not elicit any sympathy from Turing. She gently pushed him aside and walked straight to the living room door. "No need to show me the way, I can find my own way."
Turing did not want to have any connection with male hosts. With just a few words, she put on her canvas shoes at the door, tiptoed on the floor, and then left.
Looking at the empty living room doorway, Number 667's heart ached. He slowly touched his chest, the soft, boneless hand of Turing, as if still there, warm and gentle, lingering for a long time.
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Prison uniforms are usually not meant to be too pretty; they are designed to erase individuality and eliminate prisoners' autonomy. But clearly, just wearing an orange prison uniform could not conceal Turing's extraordinary charisma and spirit.
Let me reiterate the words from the first volume here:
Being born a noble does not only mean dressing nobly, eating nobly, living nobly, or using noble items;
It also means that every move and every word exudes nobility.
Even the brows, the eyes, a slight lower of the head or a blink, the aristocratic aura that irresistibly commands reverence trickles out like a gentle stream.
Nevertheless, even in prisoner's attire, Turing, the supreme noble, was still too eye-catching.
Approaching the canteen, before Turing could take a good look at the interior and the display of various foods at the buffet counter, a woman in a police uniform suddenly appeared in Turing's sight.
She sat in front of a table filled with food, waving to Turing.
"Lulu, do you jailers eat here too?"
Turing walked towards the woman and uncaringly sat in the chair opposite her.
"Well... yes, we eat in the same dining hall. But prisoners are not allowed here, this is the seat for jailers."
"Then what about me...?"
Turing lightly furrowed her brows, ready to get up and leave.
"Oh, come on, no worries."
"Munch, munch... munch."
"I am the warden, what do you have to fear?"
Lulu slowly stirred her spoon, eating the Mediterranean-style risotto in her plate with big mouthfuls, which made Turing, who disliked Italian food, feel a bit queasy.
"Don't worry, Number 666. You are special."
Taking another big spoonful of rice into her mouth, Lulu patted her ample chest, finally swallowing the food and speaking up.
