Behind her were some familiar faces as well.
Her ever-persistent entourage, the so-called simps. A gaggle of arrogant young nobles, each one more desperate than the last to win her favor.
"Tch. What a vile, revolting place…" one of them groaned, flicking a speck of dust off his velvet sleeve.
"This stench is going to ruin my coat."
Gray's eyes narrowed as he recognized the voice right away.
Dexter F. Orwald.
The proud son of Count Orwald, one of the most influential men in the empir,e despite holding the lowly rank of count. Dexter was known for his twin axes and brutal close-range combat style.
His clothes might've been pristine now, but Gray knew his hands were often stained red.
Still… Dexter wasn't the one who made Gray's fingers twitch with tension.
That honor belonged to another voice.
"Prince Leon! Are you sure that the guy who slaughtered fifty people at the entrance… was that useless Gray?!"
That tone, so loud, so sharp, so irritating.
