Sunday apathetically killed the servant who tried to make him kneel before you, a murderous glint present in his golden eyes.

It was pathetic really. As if he'd let himself, the former representative of Penacony, get ordered around like a mindless puppet, or let that cursed gold collar around his neck bind him to a mere mortal.

Penacony would've fallen long ago if it weren't for him. Those pitiful souls, crushed by the hopelessness of their own lives would be doomed to suffer in the cycle they call 'life'. He merely gave them a sweet dream that's all...Where nobody felt pain. And THIS was how they repaid him?

His gloved fingers slowly released their hold, letting the corpse hit the carpeted floor with a soft thump.

If anyone dared to degrade him again, it would be them hanging in place of the chandelier. And that included you, his new....owner.