I didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't even breathe too loud.
Not out of fear, but because I needed to see. To observe. There was a thin line between action and ignorance—and I was dancing on it with deliberate care.
She wasn't being hurt. Not physically, at least. That much I was sure of. So I stood still and watched.
Besides, there was a part of me—cold, calculating, borderline mechanical—that doubted the reality of this entire scene.
'These people… this crowd… were they even real?'
Chances were high they weren't. My instincts were whispering that all of this might be just a very elaborate illusion. A hologram setup. The kind meant to play with the mind more than the body.
And Heinau? He was the only one really acting. The rest of the crowd was… set dressing. Props in human skin. They didn't flinch. They didn't murmur or shuffle. Just the occasional half-hearted cheer like someone hit a sound button on loop.
'So what the hell is this bastard trying to accomplish here?'
