The sunlight failed to reach Ivan as if clouds had gathered around him alone. Though he was usually as carefree as a fox, he had shed his mask of nonchalance. For the first time in a long while, Liliette could see him clearly.
His features were delicate for a man. In that moment, his face—sharp yet composed—reminded her of Vlad. It was strange. They shared neither hair color nor the shape of their eyes, yet the resemblance was undeniable.
Then she understood why. His eyes, both desperate and indifferent, held the look of someone being pursued by an unseen force. Yes, that same haunted gaze. Even on the most uneventful days, Vlad carried himself like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff.
Liliette met Ivan’s gaze head-on, unsettled by his sudden seriousness and the weight of his ominous words. “I find it hard to trust you when you spring such terrifying words on me out of nowhere, Father Ivan.”
