The three noblewomen did not walk away from the open-air terrace; they fled.
The demoness stumbled blindly toward the jade steps, sobbing hysterically as she clutched the ruined, scalding silk away from her blistered chest. Her two companions flanked her, their previous arrogance entirely gone, their faces pale with terror.
They practically tripped over their own expensive, vibrant gowns as they scrambled to escape the teahouse, leaving a trail of jasmine perfume and pathetic whimpers in their wake.
The silence they left behind was heavy and suffocating.
The remaining elite patrons of the exclusive establishment kept their heads firmly bowed, staring intensely at their own porcelain cups. No one dared to look at the silver-haired Fox.
