While the others laughed, bantered, and dipped bread into thick stew or spooned mouthfuls of spice-rich broth, Astron observed in silence.
His chopsticks moved with quiet precision—delivering another bite of crisp-glazed fish to his mouth. His expression remained neutral. Unbothered. The same collected stillness he always wore at group meals.
But beneath that stillness, his thoughts narrowed, tightened.
His gaze drifted once more—briefly, naturally—toward Leonard.
Not obvious.
Just peripheral.
The kind of glance that could be mistaken for a slow blink or a pause between sips of tea. Not even Sylvie would notice, and certainly not Leonard.
But Astron noticed everything.
And something about Leonard…
Didn't match the script.
He wasn't trying to be suspicious, not yet. But his instincts had been sharpened through too much silence, too much watching. He had trained his mind to draw faultlines between what should be and what was.
And this?
This man?
He wasn't in the game.
