CHAPTER 114 — MISSTEP
The corridor outside his room was not empty.
Leylin sensed it before he crossed the threshold, not with sight, but with weight. Presence gathered where it should have been absent. Voices stayed low. Movement slowed. A space meant to be ignored had become occupied.
He stepped out anyway.
The floor creaked under his weight, the sound carrying farther than it should.
Heads turned. One, then two, then more. Recognition spread in quiet ripples.
"That's him."
"Upper chamber?"
"Yeah. The one who bid."
Leylin kept walking, expression unchanged, steps measured. But the corridor narrowed ahead.
A well-dressed young man stepped directly into his path. He looked Leylin over once, twice, then smiled.
You made quite an impression yesterday.
Leylin stopped.
The man's smile sharpened.
Upper chamber. Two stones. Then silence. You understand how that looks?
I do not.
The answer was calm. Flat.
The man stepped closer, close enough to intrude.
You spoke where you shouldn't have. You stopped where you couldn't continue. That leaves two possibilities.
He tilted his head.
You're either important… or you're pretending. Which is it?
Leylin's fingers twitched at his side, a small movement he felt too late.
It does not concern you.
The man's smile faded.
It does now.
His hand shot forward, fast. Leylin saw it coming, but his body responded a fraction too slow.
The grip landed on his shoulder, firm, controlled, not painful, but pointed.
Leylin tensed a heartbeat late.
The delay was small.
Absolute.
A quiet murmur rippled through the onlookers.
The man leaned in.
Careful. You don't have the weight to stand where you stood.
Leylin met his gaze steadily and forced his arm upward. The motion came late and weak. By the time his hand reached the man's wrist, the grip had already withdrawn.
The man stepped back.
Something in his expression settled.
You're not important, he said quietly. You just got lucky.
Interest in the corridor faded.
The man turned and walked past, adding over his shoulder,
Next time, don't speak where you can't afford to be heard.
The space opened again. Slowly. Naturally.
Leylin stood still a moment longer.
His shoulder still remembered the grip, not as pain, but as absence.
He flexed his fingers. Once. Twice.
The delay returned.
That internal resistance he could no longer ignore.
He inhaled slowly, then continued walking.
No one stopped him this time.
No one cared.
That was worse.
By the time he reached the stairs, the noise of the lower floor had returned to normal. Laughter. Voices. Life moving on without him.
He descended, each step measured, each movement scrutinized from within.
Something was wrong.
He didn't need to look around to know where it was.
At the bottom, he paused, gaze flicking toward the exit, then back toward the stairs leading to his room and the waiting letter.
He turned and climbed back up.
The room had not changed.
The letter still lay folded where he had left it.
Leylin closed the door behind him. This time, the sound felt final.
He did not sit.
He stood in the center of the room, replaying the moment in the corridor.
Not the man.
Not the crowd.
Only the delay.
He lifted his hand. Moved it once.
Then again.
Faster.
Normal.
Then faster still.
There.Late.
A fraction of a second.
But it was enough.
Leylin lowered his hand.
"I don't understand."
He turned, looking at the letter without touching it.
If this continues…
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't need to.
He already felt it.
Control was slipping.
He exhaled deliberately, then stepped forward. His fingers hovered over the letter for a long moment before he picked it up.
He did not open it again.
He didn't need to.
"Because staying here, trapped in a body that no longer obeyed him properly, was no longer an option.
Leylin turned toward the door.
His hand still trembled as he reached for the handle, but he gripped it anyway.
This time he did not hesitate.
He stepped out and closed the door behind him without looking back.