Theia trembled, her memories flashing before her. In those memories, Kuron had black hair—short, and something he treasured dearly. But why hadn't she noticed this glaring change sooner?
"Miss, are you alright?"
The door swung open, and Kuron stepped into the room. Theia instinctively hid the box of hair behind her back. She looked closely at his face, and suddenly, it hit her—she didn't recognize him at all.
Who in the seven hells is this?
She tried to appear natural, but Theia had never been good at acting. Her heart raced, and her body felt frozen. The man who called himself Kuron walked closer, placing a hand on her forehead.
"Miss, have you caught a cold?"
The more she looked at him, the more terrified she became. She shook her head, denying that she was sick.
"Your face is all red, and you don't look well," he said, his voice calm but unsettling. "Come, I'll take you to bed."
