The irate voices around him reached Lance's ears, causing his brow to furrow involuntarily. Virginia clung to Lance's arm, whispering with a hint of fear, "Lance, they are speaking so harshly. I am a little scared." She might not have grasped the specifics of the conversation, but she knew that holding onto Lance tightly was always a safe bet. Lance, ignoring her fearful expression, continued to advance toward the crowd, intent on understanding the situation. As Lance moved forward, Virginia instinctively tightened her grip on his arm. The disgruntled murmurs around them persisted. "Who is running this event? Why isn't there anyone here to explain what's going on?!" "Yeah, we need some clarity. Is the Daves' revered doctor showing up today or not?" "If he's coming, then we'll wait. If not, let's leave now and not waste any more time ... " In this gathering of elite attendees, Johan Lambert was visibly the most agitated. His face didn't move, but his simmering anger was palpable, ready to boil over at any moment. Just then, a waiter approached, attempting to soothe the crowd's nerves with a tray of drinks. "Sir, would you like a drink?" As the waiter reached Johan, the man abruptly swatted the tray aside. "A drink? Who's in the mood to drink right now?" The sharp clatter of shattered glass on the floor cut through the commotion. Startled by the noise, Virginia instinctively recoiled back toward Lance. Feeling Virginia's apprehension, Lance, without a word, pulled her behind him. In a soft but firm tone, Lance whispered to Virginia, "If you're scared, stay back." Before she could reply, Lance decisively loosened her grip from his arm. Despite Virginia's resistance, Lance's strength was overwhelming, and he managed to pry her hand open easily. His hand, strong and defined, then guided her gently but firmly toward the exit. "Wait for me outside," he instructed. Given the absence of the doctor, Lance anticipated that the chaos would not subside anytime soon. The guests were already in an uproar, and the organizers had yet to offer any explanations, deepening his suspicions. His recent encounter with the Daves doctor, or rather his dismissal by someone claiming to represent the doctor, had been unusually brusque—completely out of character for the usually temperate doctor. So, Lance concluded that something was amiss. Since Virginia was clearly frightened, he thought it best for her to stay out of harm's way. Ensuring her safety would allow him to focus on resolving the situation. Although he was currently displeased with Virginia, his instinct to protect her in potentially dangerous situations remained strong. However, Virginia was adamant. "No, I want to stay with you," she insisted. "I want to be where you are." Lance looked down at her. The resolve in Virginia's eyes was unmistakable, causing him to bite his lip and forego any further argument. Just then, the sound of wine glasses crashing to the floor sliced through the noise of the crowd, silencing everyone. All eyes, including theirs, turned to Johan. The waiter, who had accidentally caused the spill, was visibly shaking. Overcome by fear, he fell to his knees and repeatedly apologized to Johan with a desperate, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. "I'm so sorry, it's entirely my fault for not handling the tray correctly. Please don't be upset ... " The waiter was trembling with fear, his apologies tumbling out almost incoherently. "Let me clean that up for you," he offered, using a corner of his shirt to try to wipe the wine off Johan's clothing. Johan, however, just snorted coldly, showing no sign of forgiveness. He found the apology more irritating than appeasing.Lifting his polished shoe, he kicked the waiter sharply. "Get lost," he commanded, clearly annoyed. Other waiters nearby hesitated to intervene, opting instead to keep their distance for their own safety, making themselves as inconspicuous as possible. When the waiter heard Johan's dismissive tone, he felt a bizarre sense of relief, almost as if he had been spared a worse fate. He exhaled in relief. "I'll go, I'll go. I'm leaving right now," he said before scrambling away from Johan's side. However, just as he was about to get away, Johan seemed to recall something. He raised his hand and effortlessly caught the retreating waiter, gripping him as easily as one might a small insect. The waiter froze, caught in a grip that felt like it sealed his fate. "Bring your manager here," Johan demanded, his grip tightening on the waiter's collar, his voice harsh and commanding. "The manager ... " the waiter stammered, unable to complete his sentence. Johan gave his neck a slight shake, producing a sinister crackling sound meant to intimidate. "If you can't get your manager, then take me to him." The waiter appeared petrified, barely managing an "I ... " before he could further articulate his thoughts. Johan nonchalantly shook his head, as if loosening his neck muscles, and leaned in close to whisper in the waiter's ear. "It seems you're not keen on either option I've presented," he murmured softly. "Would you like to hear a third option?" Johan's tone was chillingly calm. The waiter, desperate for any alternative, nodded quickly. Johan's smile then appeared, not one of warmth but sinister, venomous even—so much so that even Virginia felt a shiver run down her spine. "The third option is for you to die." The words hit the waiter like a physical blow, his pupils dilating in terror, a sheen of cold sweat covering his face. Overwhelmed, he collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, unable to maintain his stance. Johan, known for his impatience, wasted no time. Without allowing the waiter a moment to recover, he delivered a swift, fierce blow to the man's face, splattering crimson blood. A collective gasp echoed through the crowd; the brutality of the attack stunned everyone present. "Who is this man? Why did he suddenly attack the waiter?" Murmurs rippled through the onlookers. The commotion escalated, the atmosphere growing even more chaotic than before. The violent scene had unnerved many, prompting whispers of leaving immediately. Yet, before anyone could act on their impulse to flee, a commanding voice halted them. Looking up, they saw that the hall doors had been shut. In front of them stood a phalanx of bodyguards, arrayed like soldiers, effectively trapping everyone inside. The hall was suddenly overrun with bodyguards, their presence oppressive, like dark clouds looming ominously overhead. All the bodyguards were armed with black pistols, poised and ready at a moment's notice. Amidst the nervous crowd, Lance stood with a slight frown etched on his face. Virginia, already baffled by the unfolding events, felt her anxiety spike as she saw the sea of uniforms. The sudden influx of armed guards overwhelmed her. "Lance, w-what's happening?" she stammered, her voice tinged with fear. "Are we going to be okay?" Lance remained still, his voice low and steady as he tried to reassure her. "We'll be okay," he murmured. This is a high-profile reception, attended by many prominent figures. No one would dare initiate violence against the guests here. These bodyguards are probably here to ensure the safety of the Daves' physician, right?They shouldn't be a threat to the guests. However, Lance's reassurances were abruptly cut short by the ensuing commotion. The previously serene hall suddenly erupted with the sounds of chaotic footsteps—stomping, crashing, and the clatter of objects being knocked over.