Nolan's face twisted into an expression that could only be described as slow, dawning despair. He had been found out.
The grinning Chief, with his hands calmly clasped behind his back and eyes full of deceptive warmth, had seen through it all. Nolan felt it in his bones. That grin wasn't admiration. It was amusement, curiosity—and above all—recognition. He knew.
"Oh shit," Nolan muttered under his breath.
His knees almost gave in. He staggered a half-step back.
"Oh no. Oh no no no no!"
His thoughts spiraled. He knows who I am. He recognized me. That old bastard definitely recognized me!
Flamire Family… The name surged in his head like a curse. The same family that had painted a target on his back. Dozens of territories had Nolan's face on wanted posters, though never with a clear photo—just descriptions and traits. But the Chief of the Mana Knights? He didn't need a poster. He only needed memory.
