The nobles gradually fell silent. They felt grateful to Annan, but they feared him too.
"Sir, I'm..." a weak-looking middle-aged noble began.
"I don't care who you are or which families you belong to," Annan cut him off. "You heard what I told the baron. You know what to do... unless you want to become puppets again."
Many faces went pale. Their souls had been sealed inside their bodies, forced to move without sleep or rest for days and nights. They never wanted to endure that again.
"But don't say I didn't warn you. If any of you tries to run... the baron won't mind killing you and turning you into real puppets, leaving your corpses to dance in the Manor."
The thought sent a chill through them, and much of their gratitude toward Annan faded.
"Do you hate me?" Annan asked. "Then hate me. Just remember, it was Baron Kelly..."
The baron glanced at him.
"...and I, Young Miss Olmedo, who trapped you here. All right, dismissed."
The nobles exchanged looks. Someone tentatively stepped off the dance floor. When nothing happened, the rest rushed out after him.
The girl was swept along with the crowd, looking back at Annan again and again.
Annan waved to her.
Before long, the banquet hall had fallen quiet. The guests were gone, and only two Magic Stones continued producing music and sound effects.
"I thought you'd make them grateful to you," Baron Kelly said in surprise.
"What good would their gratitude do me? Even a fool could guess they'd promise me status and treasure. Do I need either?" Annan scoffed. "And if I believed them, do you think they wouldn't try to silence me the moment they got out?"
Baron Kelly murmured, "The Chaos Cult merely practices disorder. Nobles are flowers of evil