Jean Jar

A man in silver armor, without a helmet and with long, snow-white hair, burst into the room where the hostages were being held. Ten employees tried to stop him, but he stopped in front of the cage of the girl who had been brought here recently. Then his angry gaze slid toward the workers.

—What were you thinking when you locked an innocent girl in a cage?!

His voice seemed indifferent, yet mortally frightening. Turning to the prisoner, Jean handed her anigiri and a handkerchief.

• dry your tears.

A servant ran up to the bastard.

—Honorable sir! But this maiden is a d-dragon! You understand!

The man grabbed the servant by the scruff of the neck.

-dragon or unicorn... I don't care. Get her detention papers, Miles. No-med-for.