They stared into mine, unflinching even as my body convulsed, even as the capsule hissed louder and the scent of scorched flesh filled the air.
He made no sound.
No movement.
Just… watched.
And just like every other time I'd seen him over the years, no one else did.
The first time I noticed him had been a punishment session at eleven. Bloodied hands. Cracked ribs. I'd thought I'd passed out until I looked up from the ground and saw him, just watching. Not curious. Not afraid. Not even empathetic.
Just present.
I'd looked away then. And when I looked back, he was gone.
After that, he came during moments of weakness. Pain. Exhaustion. Doubt.
Never during training.
Never when I was winning.
Only when I was bleeding. Failing. Breaking.
And now, as the third dose of Vassir's Vein carved its way through me like divine poison, the boy watched again. His green eyes unreadable, unblinking, unwavering.
I didn't dare speak.
Didn't dare reach.
