A Stage Built on Corpses: The Idol’s Most Fatal Performance 02

Sian spoke again, gesturing toward the man strangling Marco.

The poor bastard had already fainted.

The man with the silver mask raised his hand and gestured to his subordinate, who immediately let go of Marco's neck.

Marco collapsed to the ground, but no one dared to approach him, lift him, or even check on his condition.

These men were ruthless—who would dare? Everyone valued their own life, and after Marco was attacked simply for speaking, the rest didn't even dare to breathe too loudly.

"So, dear sir, is there any particular song you'd like to hear?" Sian asked, bowing respectfully like a noble young aristocrat.

Of course, he was mocking the man, but his movements and posture were so flawless and elegant that they exuded an undeniable charm. Strands of his hair fell on either side of his face, partially concealing his cheeks and half-covering his eyes.