"I wanted to talk about your… unique talent."
The words simply stayed there—suspended between them, heavy and unmistakable.
For half a heartbeat, Trafalgar didn't move.
Then every instinct he had screamed at once.
Danger.
His senses sharpened, the world narrowing to Selendra au Nocthar sitting across from him—her posture relaxed, her hands resting lightly on the table, her expression composed to the point of politeness. No tension in her shoulders. No shift in her breathing. Not even the slightest hint that she'd just crossed a line no one was supposed to see.
'How does she know?'
'Since when?'
'Who else knows?'
'Her family?'
'Is this why she's here?'
'Was Carac just an excuse?'
'Am I the target?'
Thoughts collided, stacked, reorganized themselves in the span of barely two seconds. Trafalgar's mind moved with ruthless efficiency, discarding panic, isolating variables, calculating outcomes.
Selendra waited.
She didn't press.
Didn't clarify.
