History at the Library-Chapter 105

He muttered nonchalantly inside the sound that Vivian would curse with a silent expression when she heard it.

“So who are you?”

He spoke ill of good luck, raising one corner of his mouth.

Thatcher could have revealed that he had nothing to do with Vivian. However, he cautioned that whoever the opponent is, he does not shy away from the battle. To the extent that one’s own safety is guaranteed. He had a great network and a great deal of female experience with his natural force and appearance.

He was confident that anyone, scholar or noble, would be absolutely safe. Most of the scholar men were from commoners or low-ranking aristocrats, and if they were twisted by Vivian, they would be less than enough. They’ll never be able to do anything about him.

“Isn’t he the one who bullied our writer before?”

Then Vivian replied.

“What are you talking about?”

“No, you know what? The one who stole the notebook.”

“Well…”

“You’ve been bullied, haven’t you? That’s how hard it must have been for our writer.”

In addition, the man seemed to be offended, so he kept emphasizing the word ‘our’.

“I felt bad for our writer because she couldn’t sleep and was struggling to remember what was written on her notebook. I wanted to do everything for our writer when she was having a hard time. I really care about our writer. Our most precious writer in the world.”

Our writer…

The closer Thatcher became, the colder Aiden’s face hidden in the hood became. At first glance, his jaw began to strain as if he had clenched his teeth.

Standing almost in his arms, Vivian suddenly felt a gruesome chill.

Somehow she became increasingly anxious and spoke in defense of Aiden.

“It was a long time ago.”

“How can it not have happened just because it’s over? Idea notes mean more to our writer than life.”

But Thatcher continued to babble, unaware of the importance of his life.

Then Aiden cut off Thatcher’s endless words in the middle and opened his mouth.

“What’s going on between you two?”

Vivian then looked him in the eye and replied.

“Ray…… No, he’s a childhood friend. I’ve known him since I was very young.”

“It’s a very special relationship that’s been going on since we were young.”

His expression of special relationship once again turned her face into a piece of shit. He’s been pooping out of his mouth for a while now.

What’s wrong with him all of a sudden? No matter how hungry he was for the manuscript, isn’t that too much?

“Hey, what’s so special about…”

Thatcher snapped at Vivian and asked.

“Who is he, then? Lover?”

“He’s not my lover.”

When Vivian responded like a knife to Thatcher’s words, Aiden’s gaze fixed upon her.

He couldn’t believe he was not a lover. He couldn’t help it. Last time he saw Vivien, she bragged about having a boyfriend.

There seems to have been something between the two, but they are not clearly defined in their relationship. Is there something wrong with them? He didn’t know the exact circumstances.

What does she mean he’s not a lover? Neither her nor that person seems to think so.

It is a woman who speaks with a lingering voice, or a man who immediately shows signs of agitation when he is told that he is not a lover.

Thatcher looked at the two with sharp eyes and concluded: A man and a woman are shoveling in pairs.

I thought Vivian would hide in her shell and turn big once in a while because she was afraid she’d get hurt in a relationship.

Thatcher slapped his tongue inside, but he never intended to meddle in other people’s love affairs. And somehow he didn’t mean to make that prick do anything good. He just shut up pretending not to know because he wasn’t there.

When you’re in a relationship, you misunderstand each other, you fight, you break up. Don’t you think you need that kind of experience to write more mature novels?

He shrugged his shoulders and led them in. After asking them to sit roughly in the drawing room, he brewed three cups of tea in the kitchen, and brought them back, smiling for business purposes that was prevalent on his face.

The intentions of both hands, respectfully, were clear.

“It looks real.”

Vivian looked at him fed up and stuck out the manuscript as if to eat it and die.

Thatcher began to read the manuscript with anticipated eyes as if he had waited. The attitude of being light had changed to serious as if he had been a different person.

How long has it been? His brown eyes glistened and sparkled when the manuscript passed at a very rapid pace to the beginning and middle parts.

Persuasive flowing content, thrilling tension, double tracks, perfect puzzles…… and perfect ‘love affair’ that can never be left out of an erotic novel.

The fear, anguish, pain, and pleasure of the first experience were all contained, making even the viewer nervous or excited. It was natural that Perdi’s writing controlled the reader.

“There’s nothing more to see.”

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