"Your Majesty! You finally agreed to see me." Blanche squealed with excitement, her radiant face lighting up as she welcomed Ares into her chambers. She sprang from the edge of the bed, rushing toward Ares to embrace him tightly. "I've missed you so much. I think about you nearly every day. Eh?"
Arthur swiftly blocked Blanche's path. His towering presence stood firm before her—refusing to let her approach Ares. His gaze was cold, dark, and merciless.
Suddenly, the atmosphere felt oppressive, suffocating, as though the air in the massive chamber wasn't enough to ease the crushing tension weighing down on Blanche's body.
She felt a chill crawling down her spine, staring at Ares's soulless expression—his killer's gaze, flat, frigid, terrifying. It rooted her in place, rendering her motionless.
Blanche trembled as if a annual fever struck, her elegant face turning paper-white. Despite the overwhelming fear, she forced herself to ask, "What is the matter, Your Majesty?"
