Attention in Velmora was not loud.
It did not announce itself or make grand gestures.
It lingered.
Andres felt it in the pauses between conversations, in the half-second longer glances from strangers, in the subtle shift of how the guild receptionist greeted him. Nothing direct—nothing obvious—but enough to confirm what he already understood.
He was no longer invisible.
That meant his margin for error had narrowed.
Walking beside Kael, he kept his pace steady, his expression neutral. The streets were as active as ever, but now every movement carried more weight. He wasn't just navigating the city anymore—he was being evaluated within it.
"You noticed it too, didn't you?" Kael said casually, not looking at him.
Andres didn't answer immediately.
"Yes," he said after a moment.
Kael let out a quiet breath. "That's how it starts. First people notice. Then they get curious. Then… they decide whether you're worth keeping or removing."
Blunt.
But accurate.
Andres processed that carefully. In his previous life, attention had never been something he needed to manage. Here, it was a variable—one that could not be ignored.
"…Then I'll control what they see," he replied.
Kael glanced at him, a faint smile forming.
"Good answer."
Because in a place like Velmora, survival wasn't just about strength or intelligence.
It was about perception.
And for the first time, Andres understood that he wasn't just building his abilities.
He was building an image.