115
~Damon's POV
I stood there with my arms folded, leaning lightly against the doorway, watching them work. The faint smell of fresh paint and soap mixed in the air, making the space feel different already. The maids and guards moved with a quiet sort of urgency, no idle chatter, just focused hands and quick, practiced movements.
The maids were scrubbing the wall with long-handled brushes, pushing away the dust and faint stains until the surface was clean and smooth. I could hear the rhythmic sound of the bristles scraping, followed by the soft swish of water being wrung out of rags. Buckets of soapy water sloshed each time they dipped their tools in.
