The sound echoed sharply, like a whip against marble.
Avin froze mid-step, his eyes widening at the sight before him.
Two people stood in the center of the gilded room—well, one stood, and the other lay on the ground. The one standing had his polished boot pressed cruelly against the head of the other, whose hands were clamped desperately over his ears as though to muffle the humiliation. His face was already bruised, skin purpling beneath the cheekbone.
The standing man leaned forward slightly, his blond hair catching the golden light like threads of molten sunlight, and smirked.
"How did you even get up to this stage while being so weak, huh, commoner?"
His voice carried a cold, casual cruelty—like this was a game he had played before. He shoved the other's head with his boot, and the man on the ground groaned faintly in pain.
"Was it because you cheated?" The smirk deepened. "Tell me, did you buy your way in? Or just steal your way up?"
