Nelson didn’t answer. He parked the car in a secluded yet bustling area.
People were coming and going, and as night approached, the place was buzzing with activity.
Callie was stunned.
She had lived in Ylosea for two years and knew this was the night market.
What shocked her was seeing Nelson at the night market.
He spoke coldly, “Get out.”
Callie had no idea what he was up to, and the string of curses she had in her mind never got a chance to be spoken.
Nelson was dressed casually in a white shirt and black trousers, moving through the flyer-covered walls and the calls of food vendors without seeming out of place.
Callie followed him aimlessly.
At the end of an alley, there was a very small, old shop with a bicycle from the 80s or 90s parked outside.
A dim yellow light hung inside.
People inside were either lying down or sitting, letting out muffled groans as someone drew lines on their bodies.
It was a tattoo parlor.
Nelson walked in naturally. An elderly man with a hunched back came out and smiled at him, “Ready.”
Callie had no idea why Nelson brought her here. The painful sounds from the customers made her scalp tingle.
She stood cautiously at the door, unwilling to go in.
She couldn’t be getting a tattoo, could she?
Nelson turned around and looked at Callie, commanding, “Come in.”
Callie shook her head.
A dangerous look appeared in Nelson’s eyes as he repeated himself.
Callie was genuinely scared and wanted to run, “I’m not going in.”
Nelson stepped forward, lifted her by the waist, and carried her inside despite her struggles.
Callie almost screamed, “Let me go! I don’t want a tattoo, Nelson!”
Nelson took a step forward and scooped her up directly, ignoring her struggles as he walked inside.
Callie almost screamed, “Let go of me! I don’t want a tattoo, Nelson!”
Without a word, Nelson threw her onto the bed, coldly and decisively tying her hands and feet with ribbons, and drew the curtains to block the view from outside.
Callie was so frightened by the situation that she stared wide-eyed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, feeling that Nelson looked like a true executioner. “You… you better not do anything crazy!”
Callie’s voice shook with fear, terrified that Nelson might really hurt her here.
Someone helped Nelson put on an apron, with an array of tattoo tools laid out nearby.
Callie struggled but couldn’t break free. She was on the verge of tears, “Nelson, how about I just apologize to you? I’m scared of pain, please let me go.”
Could it be that Maevelyn also has a tattoo, and he, being infuriated by her, wants to make himself look exactly like Maevelyn?
Hearing her words, Nelson’s lips twitched slightly, “Don’t panic, just endure it.”
Callie was truly afraid of pain.
Nelson ignored her reaction, picked up a tattoo needle, and began undoing the buttons of her clothes.
Callie couldn’t figure out what Nelson intended to do, and watching the sharp needle approach, she closed her eyes in fear.
When she felt the needle, she was taken aback and slowly opened her eyes. Nelson was bent over her, carefully outlining lines on her waist and abdomen with the needle.
It hurt, a lot, but… the place he was tattooing was where she had a scar. Callie was stunned.
That scar was from a knife wound she got last time; although Ben had given her an ointment to apply, it still left a noticeable scar.
Although Callie never mentioned it, she did care about the scar, as no girl would want one; it meant she could no longer wear clothes that showed her waist.
She suddenly stopped moving. Without looking up, Nelson could guess her expression, and slowly said, “Scars aren’t pretty on a girl.”