The members of the High Order, including Sam's maternal family, were still gathered in the garden, their gazes fixed on the young man sitting with his legs crossed, sipping herbal tea like a royal prince.
'I don't like suppressing my charm, but if I want to have a normal conversation with others, it can't be helped,' Sam thought in annoyance.
He had discovered that others couldn't handle his overwhelming charm; it affected them to such a degree that they became entranced just by looking at him.
They would forget everything happening around them, their eyes possessively lingering on him, as if caught in a spell.
Even men found it difficult to maintain a straight face in his presence.
To hold a proper conversation, Sam had no choice but to suppress his charm.
Even so, the effect lingered, though now they could at least manage a coherent dialogue.
