The wealthy ladies stared intently at the door.
A pair of long, straight legs came into view; the sound of the military boots hitting the ground was steady and deep, exuding an extremely powerful sense of oppression.
The man was dressed in a black wool coat, adding to his compelling presence.
Even though the clothes were loose, one could see that the man had a great physique—broad shoulders, a slim waist—a perfect clothes rack.
Looking upward.
It was a handsome, deep face with perfect contours, exquisite and well-defined features; a pair of phoenix eyes, deep and cold, akin to a deep pool.
The shimmering light made people feel like falling into those eyes at first glance.
"Lucas," the old lady gently chided, "look at you, leaving last night without even saying a word."
Lucas Knight said nothing, walked straight over, and sat quietly, as if he didn't exist.
