"Well... I didn't expect this."
A new voice cut through the air like a blade.
Nathan's body stiffened. Slowly, he turned his head.
Standing at the edge of the corridor, arms crossed, expression unreadable, was none other than Crassus.
"Father!"
Licinia's voice rang through the marble hall as she darted forward, silk robes flowing like waves behind her. Her cheeks were flushed—not just with embarrassment, but something deeper, something volatile. She clutched her father's arm with dramatic urgency and pointed a trembling finger at the white-haired young man standing nearby.
"He… he made me drink some kind of dangerous potion!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with distress.
Crassus, the Emperor himself—an aging man of iron will and keen eyes that had seen through the deceit of many—turned his calm, calculating gaze to the accused.
"Is that true?" he asked, his voice cool and measured, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Nathan.
Nathan's response came without hesitation. "No."
