The doors to the private chamber swung open with a heavy creak.
Marlow stepped out, his face and robes drenched in blood. Behind him, a wave of heat and the stench of burnt flesh spilled into the corridor, clinging to the air like a wretched curse.
He slowly turned his head towards Count Ward.
The moment their eyes met, the Count's face turned pale. "M-my Prince?! W-what the hell happened to you?!"
Marlow didn't reply.
With a cold, detached look on his face, he walked towards the Count.
Burne's heart sank with every step he took. His body trembled uncontrollably, his body was drenched in sweat, and it soon soaked his cloak. Before long, his trousers were wet, stained a sickly yellow from fear.
"What's the matter, my friend?" Marlow asked with a cold smile as he stood before him.
"W-wait! Please!" Burne raised his trembling hands. "I-I can explain! Please, j-just… just give me a chance—"
Tap!
Marlow cut him off as he placed a hand on his shoulder.
