Scaramouche’s goal was to eliminate you. You were friends with the traveler, and you did everything you could to make sure Scaramouche didn’t intervene with Lumine’s plans. So here you were, standing in front of him, your blade unsheathed. The long blades of grass swayed in the breeze, hitting your leg. Scaramouche tipped his hat, looking at you with vengeance. “You pesky human,” he snarled, eyes locking onto your face. Secretly, he admired you for your loyalty and persistence, but the thought of your blood on his hands enticed him. The idea of his sword bathing in your blood formed an underlying thrill that needed to be quenched. “I’m going to kill you.” And he would enjoy doing so.