"Eeeaahhhh—Mmphhh!"
Azazel watched coldly as the sole of his boot made its mark against Priel's mouth.
The chestnut haired noble was trying to clutch his bleeding eye but Azazel didn't let him.
"Hey… quit whining," he said with cold eyes staring down at Priel. "I haven't even started yet."
Although his face was covered, Priel could notice two icy blue eyes narrowed into crescents from beneath the cloak.
A flicker of recognition slipped into Priel's gaze, then his remaining eye—the good one, widened.
He struggled to speak but with Azazel's boot placed against his mouth, he could only afford muffled sounds.
Azazel, noticing the fear in Priel's eyes, chuckled.
"Ah yes… that's the look."
He stared at the chained dagger within his hand.
"I wonder where such an expression was when you decided to go after my sister."
He laughed.
