Ethan raised his hand in surrender and said,
"No, no! I didn't mean to offend you — I'm just curious,
because this is a cannibal dinner, not a romantic one, right?"
He tilted his head slightly to the side like a confused child. "Right?"
Gabriel chuckled lightly despite himself,
then placed his hand on Elena's to gently move her arms away and said,
"He's right about that."
The hall fell silent for a moment — even the sound of dishes stopped.
Elena looked at Gabriel, then at Ethan —
and simply smiled coldly, as if nothing had happened.
-----------------------------------
Elena returned to her seat at the head of the table, her silent anger simmering inside her every time she looked at Ethan.
Victor kept his head lowered toward his plate. His breathing had steadied, his heart beating slowly yet powerfully with every passing second.
Gabriel placed his fork and knife in a crossed position and simply stared at the rest of the guests, analyzing them in silence.
And Ethan?
Chomp... chew... smack.
Yes, that was him.
He was eating loudly, mouth open, while glancing around the room.
Gabriel ignored it as though he'd grown accustomed to far worse than Ethan's table manners. Elena's eyes flicked between Gabriel and Ethan—she calmed whenever she looked at Gabriel, and nearly exploded whenever her gaze landed on Ethan.
As for Victor, his attention wasn't on the chaos at the table. His single eye never left Gabriel.
Gabriel noticed. He lifted his gaze from his plate and locked eyes with Victor, his half-open eye staring straight into Victor's single one. No blinking. No movement. Even his breathing slowed.
And while the two beasts glared at each other—
Wham!
Everyone turned toward the person who had slammed his hand against the table.
He sat opposite Ethan, at the far end.
The man stood, his features revealed under the hall's golden light.
He lifted his head high, looking down at Ethan with a single disdainful eye, and said in a deep voice:
"This savage…" He leaned forward toward Ethan. "…should be cast out of our refined society."
Ethan stopped eating, raised his head toward the stranger, and said coldly:
"What did you just say?"
The man leaned closer, his tone slow and deliberate.
"I said you're a barbarian. You don't deserve to live among civilized people."
Everyone froze, eyes darting between Ethan and the stranger. Gabriel and Victor, however, didn't blink or shift their gazes; they might as well have been in another world.
Ethan couldn't hold back his fury any longer. In a reckless burst of anger, he leapt onto the table.
Food scattered across the guests, splattering even Gabriel and Elena.
Ethan kicked the plates, sending food flying everywhere. He grabbed a carving knife from the turkey—its blade flashed under the chandelier as he drew it free.
Shock swept through the room. Some guests recoiled in panic, others smiled, clearly entertained.
Ethan took a quick step back, then lunged toward the man.
But the stranger didn't flinch. His eyes widened with madness, and a broad grin stretched across his face.
"Come at me."
In less than two seconds—before Ethan could crash into him and finish it—the stranger dodged back with a sharp leap, grabbed Ethan's arms, pulled him forward, and dropped himself onto his back.
Clutching Ethan's arms tight, he lifted his legs, braced his knees against Ethan's chest, and with all his strength, launched him backward—
THUD!! Ethan slammed into the concrete wall.
CLANG!! The knife clattered violently to the floor as Ethan clutched his chest in pain.
UGHHH… He tried to stifle the groan, gasping, panting—GASP… HUFF…—trying to catch his breath.
The stranger rose, dusting off his shoulders, then looked at Ethan, who was still wheezing in pain, and said calmly:
"You wanted to kill me, didn't you? Then come and try."
The words echoed in Ethan's mind. His vision blurred with rage.
Blood boiled through his veins. He pushed himself up, snatched the knife off the floor, and charged with a furious scream:
"You'll pay for that!!"
The entire hall came alive with excitement. Some even began to place bets.
"I'm betting on John."
"Same here."
"Me too."
"No way, man. I'm putting my money on Ethan."
Elena gestured subtly to her guards. Instantly, they slipped their hands into their jackets, ready for any threat to her.
Victor slowly backed away, still staring at Gabriel, then decided to use the chaos to his advantage. He reached into his coat for his gun—only to find his pocket empty.
He looked around in confusion, checking the floor, thinking he might've dropped it.
When he looked up again, his one eye widened in shock and anger.
Gabriel was twirling Victor's gun lazily in his hand.
"You left it under the sink, handsome."
Meanwhile, Ethan was still trying desperately to stab John.
But John dodged every strike with the agility of a cat and the sly precision of a snake.
He leaned back to avoid a slash to the face and said mockingly:
"Too slow."
Ethan growled, baring his teeth.
"GRRAAAHHH!! I'll kill you!"
John smirked slightly, not hesitating for a moment. He clasped his hands behind his back and, just as Ethan lunged again, jumped backward onto the table.
Ethan followed, swinging wildly, trying to land a fatal blow.
But John was too quick—twisting, ducking, weaving. He flipped over one of the guards, kicked him toward Ethan, and both men crashed together.
Ethan shoved the guard aside, his eyes blazing.
"Fight me like a man, coward!"
John chuckled lightly, sliding his hands into his pockets. His tone was calm, refined:
"You couldn't even touch me. Why would I bother approaching a filthy barbarian like you?"
Ethan tightened his grip on the knife, his rage consuming what was left of his reason. His vision dimmed, breathing heavy, muscles coiled tight.
He'd entered the state of blind fury.
Gabriel noticed immediately. He slipped Victor's gun back into his jacket and started toward Ethan—
"Ouch…!"
Ethan's hand shot to his neck. He staggered, the world spinning. Everything began to fade to black.
What happened? — THUD!
Ethan collapsed, motionless.
A man stood behind him, wearing round glasses, a small smirk curling on his face—mocking the whole world. Between his fingers, a syringe gleamed, empty.
Gabriel's eyes widened in shock. He ran to Ethan, dropped to his knees, lifted him into his lap, and grabbed his wrist. He focused on Ethan's pulse—it was steady. Gabriel exhaled in relief, then looked up at the man with the syringe.
"What did you inject him with, Hansen?"
Hansen pushed his glasses up with one finger and replied coolly:
"Dr. Erik Hansen, if you please, Dr. Gabriel."
Gabriel sighed wearily.
"As you wish, Dr. Erik Hansen. Now—what did you do to him?"
Dr. Hansen twirled the syringe playfully.
"Nothing serious. Just a sedative. Right into the external jugular vein."
Gabriel placed his hand on Ethan's neck where the injection had been. No sign of error—clean and precise. He relaxed slightly.
"Will, I think it's time we leave."
He lifted Ethan over his shoulder; Ethan's arms hung limply, swaying as Gabriel walked away.
Elena looked around at the chaos, then at Gabriel as he departed, and called out:
"Hey, darling!"
Gabriel turned his head.
"What is it, boss?"
Elena smiled—genuinely this time—and waved at him.
"Don't forget our gathering next month."
Gabriel nodded, pushed the door open with his shoulder, and finally headed home.