Lucius' brows twitched slightly, but he kept his expression smooth. He had expected nervousness, hesitation—perhaps even the usual wide-eyed, flustered look Cashew always wore when spoken to.
But this?
No stutter. No shyness. No trace of the timid boy who used to fidget with the hem of his uniform.
'So this is what His Highness was worried about.'
Cashew's gaze met his, unwavering. Cold.
Lucius had opened his mouth to ask why he was standing outside Florian's door, but before he could, Cashew spoke first.
"Do you need anything?"
His voice was sharp. Even. Unshaken.
Lucius didn't let his intrigue show, though internally, he was already analyzing.
'No hesitation. No nervousness. Nothing.'
There was no trace of the boy who used to shrink under his gaze. No fumbling over words, no flushed cheeks, no restless hands clinging to the hem of his uniform.
Just a steady stare. Impassive. Guarded.
