Grim returned to the celebration with careful, measured steps, his mind focused entirely on concealment.
The dark mana continued to circulate through his system like liquid fire, each pulse making the scar on his face throb with purple light. He kept his head slightly lowered, using the shadows cast by the chandeliers to hide his transformed eyes.
"Lord Ambrose," a merchant approached with a wine glass, "congratulations on handling that unpleasant business with Lord Terras. Such decisive action—"
"Thank you," Grim interrupted, accepting the glass but avoiding direct eye contact. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on other guests."
He moved away quickly, leaving the merchant looking puzzled by the abrupt dismissal.
The dark mana made every interaction feel charged with potential violence, as if the merchant's simple praise had been a challenge requiring response.
Grim forced himself to breathe slowly, fighting the urge to seek confrontation.
