Bravus, still slightly drunk, didn't realize that a group of people was speaking to him. He remained fixated on the direction Clayton had gone, as if lost in deep thought.
Smack!
A sharp slap echoed through the air.
Bravus stumbled and fell, stunned by the sudden strike. His face flushed, eyes dazed, he glared up at the group of tough-looking men in front of him with the fiercest expression he could muster.
But his scowl only made them angrier.
"What the hell's that look?! Got a problem?! Want me to gouge your eyes out?!"
Smack!
Another slap landed on his face. This time, the shock sobered him up enough to recognize who stood before him.
The alcohol had dulled his senses—he could only recognize people whose faces were burned into his memory, like Clayton. Now, with his vision clearing, he saw their smug expressions and immediately understood the situation.
