Yitty's display of strength left the front desk receptionist dumbfounded, wondering if the delicate-looking Yitty was actually a guy in disguise. Back in the room, Yitty dropped Cillian onto the bed with a hint of annoyance. "You're heavier than you look. You almost wore me out..."

Cillian, jostled by the drop, felt a wave of nausea and grimaced. He called out for Lucy in his sleep. "Lucy... please, don't leave..."

To prevent a mess, Yitty placed a trash can by the bed and coaxed Cillian closer, making sure his head was aimed at it. She then gently tapped his cheek, saying, "Cillian, if you're gonna be sick, aim for the trash can, okay?"

He murmured a faint acknowledgment.

Cillian let out a soft grunt, which was enough for Yitty to know he was somewhat conscious. She headed off to the bathroom, letting the sound of the running water wash away her worries.

She even indulged in a leisurely bath. Her eyes were clear and alert, betraying no sign of inebriation. It almost made someone question whether her drink had been nothing but water.

When she emerged, Cillian had not made a mess of himself, but he was lying on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Yitty sighed and went over to help him up, her perfume wafting into his nose.

Cillian's eyes, and he wrapped his arms around Yitty in a tight embrace. "Lucy, is it

snapped. She shoved him

าวเ

you so cruel to push me away? What do I have to do to make you love me?" Cillian ranted on. Lost in his drunken-illusion, he was

across the face.

hoping he had finally snapped out of

quiet, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Out of the blue, he hurled with a loud retch. Yitty was caught off guard. The room reeked of vomit and the

heaven's sake,

frenzy, Yitty

woozy. Once he had emptied his stomach, he just crashed

the room was revolting. There was no

him onto the bed. She even peeled off his vomit-soaked clothes because the smell

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