Han didn't wait for Ambrose to give a response, brushing past him while maintaining eye contact. However, before he could get far, a hand grabbed his wrist.
He froze, head angling slowly back to the C-Rank. His face was calm, but inside, he was taken aback.
'When did his grip strength get so strong?' he thought to himself.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Ambrose asked, voice low and cold. "Waltzing into my suite like you own the place—this needs to stop or—"
"Rose?"
Both of them turned their heads to Devon. He had a plate of pancakes and a fork in one hand. His golden eyes narrowed on Han, flicking from his face to Ambrose's hand around his wrist.
Then, "What do you want, Guide Han?"
Han gave Ambrose a smirk before slipping his wrist out of his vice-like grip. "Devon," he faced the S-Rank fully now. "What a surprise. I didn't expect—"
"Cut it." Devon took one step forward. "I don't want to ask you again… what are you doing here?"
