Florian inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing at the sudden grip on his arm. His mind jolted, instincts roaring to life. The title nearly slipped from his lips—
"Your Maj—"
He barely caught himself in time, choking back the words before they could escape. His breath hitched for the briefest second, a crack in his composure, but he forced himself to recover quickly. To mask the jolt of panic crawling up his spine with a carefully constructed indifference.
A beat. Then, with a forced, casual ease, he turned his head and met those piercing red eyes.
"Anastasius! You surprised me."
The name felt strange on his tongue. Wrong. But he said it anyway, keeping his voice steady, his face blank. No hesitation. No cracks.
Leila was already watching.
Florian could feel her gaze—sharp, dissecting, unblinking. She wasn't just looking. She was studying.
'She's trying to piece it together.'
And the worst part? Heinz wasn't making it any easier.
