"Mr. Special, you're here too?"
Ashok didn't even need to turn around to identify the voice that reached his ears—familiar, persistent, and accompanied by the faint sound of approaching steps that could only belong to one person.
He let out a silent sigh, the kind that escaped when patience wore thin but words were still holstered.
He kept his gaze fixed forward, giving no reply, as if the surrounding breeze and open training field demanded all of his concentration.
'Here comes another headache,' Ashok thought, exhaling silently through his nose.
The voice was familiar, too familiar—one of those voices that made your spine itch before you even turned around.
He didn't respond.
His gaze remained fixed ahead, steady and unmoved, as though he hadn't heard a thing instead he found the morning breeze that stirred faintly at his sleeves more interesting than the voice.
For a brief moment, he entertained the hope that silence might be mistaken for deep concentration.
