Bahamut did not move immediately. His blindfolded eyes remained fixed on the elderly groundskeeper trimming the hedges inside the estate.
"Interesting." A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"I think... we've just found our first thread."
The others instinctively followed his gaze.
The old man looked completely ordinary. His back was slightly bent with age, his hair almost entirely white, and he wore the simple brown attire of a servant. In one hand was a pair of gardening shears, and in the other, a wicker basket filled with freshly cut flowers.
"What exactly are we looking at?" Lily asked quietly.
"The old man?" Alana tilted her head.
Exildra narrowed her eye, catching up on something, "He's nervous."
Bahamut nodded. "He isn't working."
"What?"
"He trims one branch..." Bahamut said softly. "And looks toward that alley. He's repeating the same pattern."
Alya looked surprised. "I didn't even notice..."
"You weren't supposed to," Bahamut replied. "He isn't making it obvious."
