Griselda's sharp eyes, empowered by her unique skill, could see what ordinary vision could not.
Her gaze pierced through skin and cloth, sinking into the very fibers of Ashok's muscles.
And what she saw confirmed one thing—he was no exception.
His muscles, just like every other student's, bore the marks of fatigue. Microscopic tears ran through the fibers, his breathing had quickened subtly, and the beat of his heart pulsed with a rhythm far more strained than his outward calm suggested.
The tension, the stress—it was all there beneath the surface, clear as day to her specialized sight.
He was tired.
His muscles were frayed with exertion, his stamina clearly draining with each passing lap.
His heart, lungs, and core showed every sign of a student who had been running nonstop.
And yet—
And yet, if she turned off that penetrating gaze and looked at him with nothing more than her normal sight, it was as if she were looking at a different person entirely.
