C27 27

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Warm blood trickled down the silvery blade, soaking into the fine navy blue carpet. Vasilias looked down at the dead body with a merciless gaze. His eyes reflected the cold, predatory instinct of someone who could devour his prey with a mere blink.

"Take this filth away," he spat, turning to pick up a handkerchief from the golden tray nearby. These tokens of affection