Florian inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing at the sudden grip on his arm. His mind jolted, instincts roaring to life. The title nearly slipped from his lips—
"Your Maj—"
He barely caught himself in ti, choking back the words before they could escape. His breath hitched for the briefest second, a crack in his composure, but he forced himself to recover quickly. To mask the jolt of panic crawling up his spine with a carefully constructed indifference.
A beat. Then, with a forced, casual ease, he turned his head and t those piercing red eyes.
"Anastasius! You surprised ."
The na felt strange on his tongue. Wrong. But he said it anyway, keeping his voice steady, his face blank. No hesitation. No cracks.
Leila was already watching.
Florian could feel her gaze—sharp, dissecting, unblinking. She wasn’t just looking. She was studying.
’She’s trying to piece it together.’
And the worst part? Heinz wasn’t making it any easier.
His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm, grounding. A silent warning. His presence alone was suffocating, commanding attention without effort, and Florian felt the weight of it pressing down on him.
Leila shifted slightly, head tilting in quiet calculation. Then, in a voice too calm, too asured, she asked,
"Who is that?"
There was no fear. No wariness. Just quiet, patient curiosity.
And Florian hated that.
It was too much. She was taking things too well.
That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t right.
But he didn’t let the unease show. Instead, he slipped into practiced ease, offering a smooth, rehearsed answer.
"He’s a knight and an arcanior assigned to help ..." A pause. "Help you."
It wasn’t a lie.
But it wasn’t the truth either.
Leila humd, neither accepting nor rejecting his words. But her eyes lingered—longer than Florian would’ve liked—on Heinz.
Like she was peeling back layers.
Like she was trying to see what wasn’t ant to be seen.
Then Heinz finally spoke, voice flat, unreadable.
"Where are you going?"
Not directed at Leila. Not once did he acknowledge her presence. His entire focus was on Florian.
Watching. Waiting.
’He’s not asking because he’s curious.’
Florian knew that much just by looking at him.
He’s asking because he already knows sothing.
Sothing Florian doesn’t.
A quiet pressure coiled in his chest, but he didn’t falter. His voice ca out lower this ti, quieter.
"Leila asked to go to her house so we can discuss more."
A beat of silence.
Then—Heinz sighed.
Florian barely had ti to process it before he was pulled forward.
It wasn’t harsh, but it was sudden. The shift in proximity sent a jolt of surprise through him, breath stalling as he found himself closer.
Too close.
Much closer than he was comfortable with.
For a split second, Florian swore he felt the heat radiating from Heinz’s skin, the weight of his presence settling around him like an unshakable force.
Then Heinz spoke, voice lower, quieter.
"Don’t go anywhere without ."
It wasn’t a request.
It was an order.
The words crawled over Florian’s skin, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.
His heart did sothing strange.
Sothing it absolutely should not be doing.
His pulse skipped, a heat creeping up his neck, and for one, singular, frustrating mont—he was certain it wasn’t his reaction.
’No. No, no, no. That was the original Florian.’
Irritation flared, burning through his chest.
’Damn it, Florian!’
Why?
Why now?
He didn’t want to feel anything. He didn’t want the warmth prickling at his skin, didn’t want the strange twist in his stomach.
Not in fear.
Not in unease.
But in sothing he refused to na.
He hated this.
Scowling, he ripped his arm free, stepping back as quickly as possible. He turned on his heel, refusing to look at Heinz—refusing to give him the satisfaction of whatever expression was on his face.
"Just co with us, then," he muttered, voice sharper than intended.
And he didn’t wait for a response.
Leila, who had been silent through the entire exchange, studied him for a mont longer. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and walked ahead.
But Florian felt it.
Even as she moved forward.
Even as she pretended otherwise.
Leila didn’t turn back as she walked, but her voice cut through the still air, smooth and unhurried.
"You appeared out of nowhere," she remarked. "How?"
Florian stiffened, his body tensing at the casual yet pointed question. He shot a glance at Heinz, who remained as unreadable as ever.
’Good question.’
Now that she ntioned it, Florian realized the sa thought had crossed his mind. A village like this was quiet—too quiet. If Heinz had been approaching, Florian should’ve at least heard the sound of footsteps, felt the shift of presence, sothing.
But he didn’t.
Heinz had simply been there.
Waiting.
Right at the exact mont Florian was about to leave with Leila.
A coincidence?
No.
Not with him.
Heinz finally acknowledged Leila, though only briefly. His red eyes flicked toward her, unreadable as ever, before shifting back to Florian.
"I was following him," Heinz said evenly. "Since he left."
Florian turned sharply at that, eyes locking onto Heinz, searching—praying—for any sign that he was lying.
But there was nothing.
No hesitation. No flicker of dishonesty.
Just the sa calm, infuriating composure.
A sinking feeling settled in Florian’s stomach.
’Since I left?’
His mind raced back—
He walked out on Heinz earlier.
Had a breakdown over that damn nightmare.
Crashed out, just a little.
Snuck to check the storage unit.
t Leila.
And through all of that—
He had never noticed.
’He was following that entire ti?’
A slow, horrifying realization crawled up Florian’s spine.
’How? How the hell did he follow without noticing?’
Florian was not careless. Even if his mind had been a ss earlier, even if exhaustion had dulled his senses, he should have felt sothing—an off presence, a flicker of awareness, anything.
But there had been nothing.
Not a single thing out of place.
Leila didn’t seem shocked. If anything, she just humd lightly and kept walking, as if Heinz’s revelation was the most normal thing in the world.
And that—
That unsettled Florian more than anything.
Sothing about the both of them felt... off.
He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the air between them—between all three of them—felt wrong.
Maybe it was just him.
But sohow, Florian doubted that.
Reviews
All reviews (0)