Theo narrowed his obsidian-black eyes, just slightly.
He wasn't sure if he should've expected this sight or not…
The man before him was simply sitting on the floor, legs stretched out like someone who had just dropped down after a long, soul-draining journey.
There were no shackles restraining him. No collars, no energy chains, no visible signs of captivity.
He wasn't being forced into this position.
Instead, he looked like someone who had pushed himself to the edge—then collapsed, content to rest wherever his body gave out.
He leaned against the wall casually, his head resting back, eyes peacefully shut.
And yet, his clothing…
It screamed nobility. Refinement. Status.
It was tailor-made, crafted from materials that only planetary elites could afford.
Pristine. Not a speck of dirt, not a single tear or fray.
It was as though even his fatigue refused to compromise his appearance.
