Made into ice bloke

Dinnertime had already past therefore the people of the McArthney residence were surprised to see a familiar young man marching into the place. As if he just came out of his office, he was still wearing a white dress shirt, black pants which fitted nicely to his thighs but hang loosely on the legs except on the calves, and black dress shoes slightly pointed at the tip. The illumination behind him was a bit dim, dampened by the night scenery at the back. Despite this though, when he entered the brightly lit mansion, he still looked as imposing as ever due to his terrifying momentum.

It was Paul whose face and aura was openly broadcasting to the world how bad his current mood was as he took big strides in.

"Where's the head?" His steps loudly reverberating in the hall, he swept his icy orbs around. The maids and housekeepers who unluckily met his stares flinched, their bodies feeling the sudden chill colder than the later days of December. Not wanting the fortune of receiving even the s