Trafalgar woke earlier than usual, long before the academy stirred to life. At first, he thought it was habit, but the restless thrum in his chest betrayed the truth. Excitement. Today was the day Selara would finally craft the item he had been anticipating for some time now.
Ever since he had met the Veiled Woman, his mind had been crowded with questions that refused to leave him in peace. 'Who is she, really? Why does she know so much? How could she see through me so easily, as if my entire existence were written down somewhere?' Her words still echoed—his cursed title, Cursed Heir, spoken with such certainty it made his blood run cold.
