This man was like a silent reef, letting wave after wave of pain crash over him without so much as a tremor.
The Old Ghost could not help glancing up at the mirror. It reflected the man’s resolute profile, his jawline sharp as if carved by a knife. His tightly pressed lips were devoid of color, and fine beads of sweat covered his forehead, trickling down his temples and falling onto the black leather cushion, where they spread into a small dark stain.
