The Heavenly Demon of Terror
Chapter 120: A Banquet of Power and Regret
(Samuel's POV)
The moment Liberty and I stepped into the Grand Royale Banquet Hall, the air shifted.
The soft hum of conversation faltered.
The flashing lights of photographers froze.
All eyes were on us.
The tailored black suits we wore were flawless, fitting our lean, muscular frames like they were made by the gods themselves.
And maybe—just maybe—that's exactly what we looked like to them.
Untouchable. Divine. Above them all.
But my focus wasn't on the whispers.
Not on the envious glares from men who wished they were us.
Not on the fascinated glances from women who wished they were with us.
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