The bodyguards looked at me with a mixture of reverence and fear.
Some were breathing heavily, sweat and blood running down their faces, their eyes wide open as if they still couldn't process what had happened.
Even Baltasar, who until a few hours ago had barely deigned to look at me as anything more than a spoilt child, was staring at me in disbelief.
—"Young master…" —he finally murmured, his deep voice heavy with disbelief.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, still feeling the frantic pulse in my temples.
I raised a hand, stopping him before he could say anything more.
—"First…" —I said firmly, without raising my voice—, "erase the traces of blood. I don't want to attract… something more dangerous."
There was a brief moment of silence.
Baltasar closed his mouth, nodded gravely, and lowered his gaze.
—"…Understood," —he said at last, his tone far more respectful than before.
Baltasar stepped toward the corpses.
