Yvaine's screams quickly drew attention to the scene.
Several old women tending nearby stalls and neighbors from the surrounding alleys gathered at once, forming a loose circle around her. Their gazes swept over her with open disdain.
As more and more people crowded in, Yvaine curled in on herself, glaring fiercely at them as she lashed out:
"Get away from me! I am a noble lady—if you keep staring, I will have you all killed!"
But in her current state—hair disheveled, clothes torn, dignity in tatters—what trace remained of a noble lady?
The crowd was not frightened in the least.
Instead, laughter rippled through them, growing louder.
Yvaine trembled with rage. She struggled to rise, trying to shove the onlookers aside—but the vagrant seized her again, dragging her down harshly. At the same time, a few idle ruffians edged closer, their expressions opportunistic and vile.
Desperation clawed at her like a wild animal.
