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Falcoa: “Who the hell are you?”

Falcoa’s men began to rise one by one, and the quick-witted hostesses quietly slipped away.

The most surprised person was Amy.

Amy: “Shirone? How did you…?”

Seeing that Amy was unharmed, Shirone delayed his response and glared at Falcoa.

The man sitting at the head of the table, legs crossed. He didn’t look like a monster, but his aura made it clear he wasn’t normal.

’He’s strong, that man…’

It’s easy to exude killing intent. But the overwhelming feeling that froze your bones was the aura of professionals who specialized in killing.

’Why is Amy with someone like this…’

The fact that there was a glass of alcohol in front of Amy, who enjoyed tea and coffee, made Shirone feel guilty.

Shirone: “Let’s go, Amy.”

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