Ashok's hand rested lightly on Henry's shoulder as he patted it a few times, his touch deliberate and commanding. "Good," he said with measured calmness, his tone brokering no argument.
"Now turn around and start walking. Don't look back." The words were spoken as though they were law, and they carried an undercurrent of finality that Henry could not defy.
Without hesitation—and without even loosening his tie—Henry obeyed. His body moved as though on autopilot, pivoting neatly before he began walking along the bridge.
Behind him, Ashok followed at an unhurried pace, his footsteps echoing rhythmically against the cobblestones as the two made their way toward the Academy.
As Henry walked, his mind swirled with a tumult of conflicting thoughts. 'Why am I following the words of a newcomer? How can he talk like that—so bluntly, so brazenly—inside the Academy? Who is this stalker he mentioned, using surveillance magic on him?
