Inside the luxurious private box, soft light fell upon everyone's faces. The nobles, including Colosseum owner Aldrich, all wore expressions of various shades. Dylan looked at the carefree Mr. Ulysses in the main seat, his lips moving as if he wanted to speak, yet utterly unable to utter a sound.
Beside him, Prisia's lips curled slightly into a smile that failed to reach his eyes. His gaze was exceptionally sharp, devoid of any genuine warmth. Even the gentle lighting could not add a shred of warmth to his smile, giving the distinct impression that the man before them was mocking everyone else.
Ashburn leaned back in his chair, looking somewhat dejected. Reflected in his vacant eyes were Lord Angus, wearing a hypocritical fake smile, and the still-smiling Mr. Ulysses. Without even needing to think back, he knew the kind of words Mr. Ulysses had just uttered.
Chapter 307