Chapter 55 – Scar
Jack blinked slowly before giving the faintest nod. His mind was caught somewhere between confusion and paralysis, his body unsure how to respond. Normally, Jack could mimic the "appropriate" reaction in such moments. He had learned long ago that people lived according to patterns—when they laughed, when they cried, when they smiled or scowled. All he had to do was watch, memorize, and imitate. That was how he moved through life: a performance, a mirror of the behavior of others.
But now, confronted by his mother's trembling frame and her tear-filled eyes, he was utterly lost. He didn't know what to do, didn't know what expression to wear. His mind, sharp and calculating in battle, faltered here. Somewhere deep in his chest, he felt something unfamiliar—something raw and heavy. A sting that lingered, gnawing at him. A bitter taste on his tongue he couldn't swallow away. It unsettled him more than any battlefield.
