Kegaku's left hand moved before the rest of him admitted the order existed.
The red cloth slid across the glass tank by the width of two fingers. Inside the tank, the sleeping woman stayed where the wires kept her, ash blond hair floating around her face and the gold ring on the rim trembling with each pull from the hand.
Kegaku caught his own wrist with his right hand hard enough to make the bones grind. His teeth clicked once. He kept his shoulders square because Erebos hated apology posture more than failure.
Across the map room, Erebos poured tea into a black porcelain cup and watched the struggle in the table's reflection.
He kept his back turned because Kegaku understood reflected attention better than kindness.
"If you open the tank without my order, I will call it ambition and punish it accordingly."
Kegaku forced the graft hand back beneath the cloth. One finger kept pressing outward after the rest obeyed.
