A Glare From A Beauty

Duke Ifrit's gaze lingered momentarily on his son, but the emotions that stirred within him were far from paternal. A sense of revulsion crept up his spine as he observed Ethan's actions.

"At least the boy knows his place," Ifrit muttered under his breath, watching as Ethan turned his attention away from the nobles and focused instead on the freshly served meal before him.

Only a handful of aristocrats deigned to acknowledge Ethan's presence, and even then, their greetings were laced with unease. It was evident that Ethan's reputation among the noble class had suffered greatly, casting a shadow over his interactions with his peers.

It was evident that the other nobles had little desire to mingle with Ethan. "They clearly wish to keep their distance," I observed, deciding it best to focus on the food and drink before me, content to simply observe the unfolding events of the gathering. I had seen enough of their wary expressions to understand the general sentiment.

Despite taking over E