†Noca's POV†
He looked different.
And I could sense it. It wasn't the way he was last night when I had asked him who he was. Something was wrong. So wrong about him that I couldn't help but notice, because it wasn't subtle. It was glaring.
The way he had been scared in my presence the night before. How he had been shaky, as though he carried a secret too heavy for his spine to bear. How cautious he had been, how skeptical of me coming anywhere near him. So much so that he had resorted to making up the ridiculous excuse of wanting to fart just to leave my presence.
And now—this.
Staring at him across the dining hall as he walked toward the table, I couldn't help but notice the way he moved. The way he walked. Majestic. Controlled. Confident. As though he wasn't the same man who had trembled before me last night. As though he hadn't been frightened of my mere presence only hours ago.
"Slept well?" a voice asked.
His voice.
