"Transaction..." Margaret, who had been in the grip of the Mecha for a long time, was set down, yet she remained so composed and calm.
Elegantly white as jade, she brushed her hair with a movement so pristine it carried not a whiff of worldly smoke, yet that face and figure exuded an unparalleled allure and seduction.
The men nearby were all staring, stupefied. Having seen many women, no matter how beautiful, they couldn't avoid occasional clumsiness. Usually as immaculate as moon and stars, as pure as a fairy, even they might wobble their graceful figure, sway their lovely hips, and strut onto a red carpet, only to fall sprawling with a thud.
Logically speaking, being shaken senseless by Fatty's Mecha and having her head pinched shut was more humiliating than a tumble. But on the unflustered Margaret, it was just a graceful disarray with a light brush of her delicate hand.
