Reborn as the Last van Ambrose

Grim returned to the celebration with careful, measured steps, his mind focused entirely on concealment.

The dark mana continued to circulate through his system like liquid fire, each pulse making the scar on his face throb with purple light. He kept his head slightly lowered, using the shadows cast by the chandeliers to hide his transformed eyes.

"Lord Ambrose," a merchant approached with a wine glass, "congratulations on handling that unpleasant business with Lord Terras. Such decisive action—"

"Thank you," Grim interrupted, accepting the glass but avoiding direct eye contact. "If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on other guests."

He moved away quickly, leaving the merchant looking puzzled by the abrupt dismissal.

The dark mana made every interaction feel charged with potential violence, as if the merchant’s simple praise had been a challenge requiring response.

Grim forced himself to breathe slowly, fighting the urge to seek confrontation.

"My lord," Violet appeared at his side, her voice concerned. "Are you feeling well? You seem..."

"I’m fine," Grim said more sharply than intended, then softened his tone. "Just tired from the evening’s events. Continue with your duties."

Violet nodded but her eyes lingered on his face with obvious worry. Grim realized she was trying to see his face clearly in the dim lighting, and he turned away before she could notice the changes.

The celebration swirled around him, conversations and laughter creating a backdrop that felt increasingly surreal.