Bab 222: The King's Bad Temper

Adrien, still seated in his study, exhaled sharply, his fingers drumming rhythmically against the edge of his desk. The air remained heavy with the tension Zephirah had left behind, but his expression betrayed none of the simmering disdain within. Without lifting his gaze, he called out in a voice calm yet laced with unmistakable authority, "Delbert."

With an air of distaste, Adrien stripped off his shirt, the fabric an unwelcome reminder of its recent contact with someone he loathed. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, as if ridding himself of the garment could erase the lingering presence of her unwelcome touch. The faint flicker of disgust in his eyes was the only sign of the storm brewing beneath his icy exterior.