In Igor Village, the air was thick with tension inside the small private room of the inn. It was dimly lit, the scent of stew and old wood mixing with cold air from the mountains outside.
Since Black Lion hadn't established an HQ in this zone yet, Scar used this modest inn room for their temporary meetings.
Leonel sat stiffly at the table, fidgeting with his fingers, his leg bouncing beneath his chair. Across from him sat Scar — tall, well-built, and wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Even though Scar's expression was calm and pleasant, Leonel felt like there was a knife hidden behind that smile.
It wasn't friendliness that Scar radiated; it was control. Power. And the promise of punishment if he said the wrong word.
Leonel swallowed hard, unable to meet Scar's gaze for long. His eyes darted elsewhere — landing on the elegant woman standing beside Scar.
