Ashburn felt a chill in his heart, daring not to imagine the shock he would feel if that highly probable guess actually materialized right before his eyes. Yet, undeniable as it was, the hypothesis made a chilling amount of sense. He had to incorporate this possibility into his assumptions while simultaneously figuring out how he would respond should it come to pass.
Despite the turmoil within and thoughts of flight echoing in his mind, Ashburn maintained a stoic exterior, staring straight at the corner of Angus's mouth, which was now hitched in a smile. He was now seventy percent sure that the man before him was a Devil. If he were the true Lord City Lord, he would never flash such a grin at a time like this; his lips would be tightly pressed, devoid of any superfluous expression.
Angus—no, he should be called Prisia the Devil. Beneath this mortal flesh, a trace of interest flashed in his pitch-black eyes. He could sense that the seemingly resolute man before him was not nearly as steadfast as he appeared. Well-protected though his defenses were, Prisia could still perceive the undercurrents of unease and terror within him.
Chapter 305