"Sigh... "
A Lycanthrope —A Weretiger to be specific, let out a heavy sigh as she stood before two very large doors.
She then raised her knuckles to knock, but then hesitated for a brief moment to swallow the lump on her throat.
She then looked down on the maid attire that donned her entire being so perfectly as though tailor-made, and fixed any wrinkles or imperfections she found.
Well, to be honest, her attire was in fact a magical armour, so it was not possible for it to develop even a single wrinkle.
But Bethsheba pressed it despite knowing this fact, and she finally mustered up the courage to knock on the door.
...
Absolute silence. Her white, striped ears perked up but she heard nothing, only a dense bloodlust that would suffocate any normal person was given as response.
But Bethsheba was not normal by any means, it would not be a far cry to say that she was one of the top three most powerful beings on the Seventh Floor.
