If he looked into a mirror now, he was sure that his amethyst eyes burning with revenge would appear hideously distorted.
Laxus Del Fiore.
The bastard who had corrupted his beloved brother.
The harmful menace that must be eliminated.
That bastard—he would definitely deal with him with his own hands.
...
"What's Going On Here?"
Suddenly, Rocco found himself in one of the main house's rooms, which is now serving as his temporary quarters while munching on his lunch.
Instead of the burly and muscular attendants from the annex, the slender and proper-looking servants are the ones who clean the room and bring in meals for him.
Rocco could only watch them nervously with cold sweat trickling down from his back.
In front of him, on a pristine white plate, sat an unfamiliar, bite-sized dish that looked more like art than food.
He couldn't help but think, Is this what they call Michelin-star cuisine?