"You are here," she began, her voice smooth and commanding, carrying an edge of disdain, "and yet, you are not of noble blood. How were you admitted to the academy?" Each word landed with precision, designed to cut through pretense and force honesty.
Jae responded carefully, his voice steady, concise, deliberate. He explained his background, the circumstances of his admission, and his motivations.
Her eyes never wavered from him, and he noted each micro-expression, the twitch of an eyebrow, the subtle tightening of her jaw, the ever-present tension in her shoulders.
Every movement, every inflection, was loaded with authority, a test, and a probe, and he cataloged them meticulously.
She pressed him further, questioning the details of his life, challenging his choices, and interjecting frequently to correct or dismiss parts of his explanation.
