"Are you insane!?" Damien shouted in a hushed tone.
Right before his announcement for the dance, he was gestured over to an isolated location—away from prying eyes and ears.
With his right hand running through his silver-grey hair, he looked towards the cultist priest from last night. His face wrinkled with hesitance as he clutched a syringe passed over to him with his other hand.
"You want me to inject someone with this? In public? How on Earth do you expect me to do that?" Damien inquired, "These people already have a high opinion about me. If I just brazenly assault someone, my reputation would be tarnished!"
The Cultist stood with his hands behind his back, his posture casual and relaxed.
"Sir Damien, you worry too much about your reputation. The moment your family joined us was the moment anything personal to you would be severed for the greater good." The Cultist spoke, his voice oozing with calmness, "In addition to that, after today, no one would know about it."
