He had no connections or background, no one would speak up for him, and he couldn’t afford to offend anyone.
"Hey, that blond guy over there, don’t you know it’s illegal to hit soone?"
A few people looked up.
From a distance, they could only see a slender figure standing in the shadows, wearing a long black dress and a white fur shawl draped over it.
At first glance, she particularly resembled a lady from a magazine cover of the last century.
Unfortunately, her face was unclear.
Thinking the person was here to attend tonight’s banquet, Woody Harrison felt sowhat uneasy, but he still tried to sound calm and shouted, "We’re just expressing our feelings within our group, nothing else. Mind your own business."
"Is hitting soone a way to express feelings?"
Hannah stepped out into the brightest spot of light, and everything else around her instantly beca a dim background.
"Blue hair, even if you can’t beat them, don’t you know how to ask for help?"
Blue-haired John Lynch didn’t dare to speak, looking down, his gaze falling on the gem-studded high heels, his fingers tightly clutching the ground.
His heart pounded like a drum.
Although Hannah knew about the SN 9 group, she couldn’t recognize anyone or rember any nas; she could only rely on the color of their hair.
For example, the person hitting others had dyed blond hair, while the other accomplices had dyed black or green hair.
The one being hit had dyed a dark shade of blue.
It was a difficult color to pull off, as it tended to look darker.
Woody Harrison, who had just been full of airs, completely lost his nerve after seeing Hannah’s face.
He cursed his bad luck in his heart and also cursed John Lynch for being lucky to have Hannah intervene twice.
"Miss Winter... Miss Winter, we’ll be leaving now, there’s another appointnt later."
Better to retreat when facing great odds.
Hannah looked over.
Oh, it was the blond talking.
"Are you the center of the team?"
Woody Harrison froze, unable to understand why Hannah was suddenly asking this, but he still nodded, "I am Woody Harrison, and I’m also the leader of SN 9. Miss Winter, do you need sothing?"
ntioning his position in the team, Woody Harrison suddenly straightened his back, a sense of pride spontaneously erging.
Hannah just glanced at him indifferently, her expression unchanged, "The leader sets an example by hitting others, isolating a team mber. Are boy bands nowadays playing this wild?"
Woody Harrison’s spine bent again, his voice trembling, "We were just joking."
"Joking?" Hannah stepped forward to face John Lynch, "Blue hair, do you find it funny?"
John Lynch moved his fingers slightly, his gaze shifted upward, seeing Hannah’s skirt hem cascading down to her ankles like a gentle rush of nightfall.
He opened his mouth, but still, not a word ca out.
Perhaps he had been hit too often, and now, even with soone backing him up, he didn’t dare to complain.
Woody Harrison suddenly felt relieved.
"I... don’t find it funny."
The trembling words nearly consud all of John Lynch’s courage.
Woody Harrison’s expression stiffened, "Miss Winter, this is an internal matter of our group, it’s best if an outsider like you doesn’t interfere."
Hannah ignored him, "I heard I’m considered your senior."
Woody Harrison’s neck stiffened, but he nodded anyway.
She continued, "Who is your manager?"
Hearing Hannah ask this, the others suddenly beca anxious.
Worried Hannah was indeed planning to back up John Lynch.
After all, they were just artists under a subsidiary of HQ, while Hannah was a star nurtured by the headquarters itself.
There was a distance and disparity in their status.
Woody Harrison was also afraid, stuttering for a long ti without managing to say a word.
Hannah didn’t care, "Never mind, even if you told , I wouldn’t recognize them. I’ll go ask Jack Stewart."
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