She took a slow, deliberate breath, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to just violently push her way through the crowd of half-naked men. She kept her posture rigid and her voice cuttingly sharp.
"Where is your Master? Call him," she commanded, her tone slicing right through the sweet, heavy atmosphere like a frozen blade.
Hearing her completely cold, unbothered rejection, the men didn't back down or look intimidated. Instead, they flawlessly shifted tactics.
As if on cue, several of them made the most heart-wrenchingly pathetic, adorable pouting expressions she had ever seen. It was genuinely, terrifyingly cute.
"My Lady..." the silver-haired man sighed softly, his violet eyes shimmering with fake, unshed tears as he gently tugged at the sleeve of her dark cloak. "If you came all this way just to meet the Master... what about us? Are we truly not pleasing enough to your eyes?"
