A man with a cold and expressionless face slowly opened his eyes.
Annoying.
...
Botan slowly stood from his bead, irked by the troublesome people at his door.
Yes... Power had already clouded his sense of reasoning, making him feel he was some immortal above them all.
He did get word earlier of their arrival.
He watched them drive in through his blinds but didn't bother to see them.
Sure. He was indeed the culprit, the one making all the killings. But so what?
To Botan, he was the chosen one who had little time to spare with these pesky mortals.
In his opinion, those who died should be happy they were his victims.
It was an honor to go down by his hands!
'What a bother.'
Botan coldly rose, wearing a dark red shirt and a pair of black pants.
He had his hands on his pockets and his body standing proud yet distant, as though telling everyone not to come any closer.
~Chack-cack!
