After the disciplinary hall's disciples took them away, Ivan muttered, a sinister, sadistic glint flashing in his eyes, "You want to play with me, huh little bastard? Too bad I'm not a retard like Isolde."
Half an hour later…
Step! Step! Step!
Footsteps sounded in the hall and a white haired man, who looked no older than 25, appeared in front him. His posture was upright and a grim expression—that seemed strangely natural—was on his face.
"Young Lord." The man greeted him.
Ivan looked at him for a moment, then raised his brows and said, "You look… excited, Elder Bismirch."
"You'll be excited too after you hear what I found out from that disciple." Elder Bismirch, a notorious member of Grimheart Faction, said with a faint smile that seemed very eerie on his grim face.
"Oh?" Ivan sat up straight, "Tell me."
"First let me apologize. During my investigation, that girl died. You shouldn't have whipped her so much." Elder Bismirch sighed, shaking his head in pity.
