"Oh, my, there you are, Your Highness!" A baritone voice called out as the uninvited guest stepped into the small hall.
Lucian, standing beside his desk and cleaning his sword with a white handkerchief stained with blood, looked up briefly, his gaze cold and indifferent. He returned his attention to the blade, meticulously wiping off any lingering bloodstains.
"Your Highness," the orange-haired man repeated, his lips twinkling as he tried to control his fury, fueled by Lucian's cold attitude, under his forced smile.
"Yes, Baron Noah Gionhard. How can I help you?" Lucian's voice was calm but icy, his gaze still fixed on the blade— clearly disinterested in the man before him.
