The corridor stretching toward the master chamber felt way longer than Dietrich remembered. Normally, a Duke's or Prince's quarters would dominate the entire top floor, like a private throne room carved out of stone. But the Von Ignaz mansion was different. The master chamber, abandoned for nearly a decade, sat oddly on the second floor, and every step Dietrich took up the staircase felt like slipping through a thin veil into some strange, unfamiliar dimension.
James, calm as ever, walked a single pace ahead. His posture was stiff, rigid, like a soldier afraid to break formation. He didn't dare glance back or slow down to match Dietrich's stride. The two men seemed to share the same space, yet were separated by an odd, invisible distance, a peculiar estrangement that didn't quite disturb Dietrich's composure.
