"What did you just say...?" Freyrjar's sharp voice cut through the air like a blade as he rose from his seat, eyes narrowed with intensity.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Everyone in the hearing chamber, except for Ren, looked shocked.
"Romero, can you check it?" Freyrjar's tone left no room for refusal.
Silence fell over the room as all eyes turned toward Romero, who stood with unhurried calm. His gaze, obscured by the black mask he wore, never wavered.
"Understood." Romero's voice was low but firm, like the rumble of distant thunder.
The masked man stepped forward, his every movement fluid as if gliding on air. The black fabric wrapped around his body rippled unnaturally, its edges unweaving and reshaping into long, clawed tendrils.
"W-What are you doing...?" I took a step back, heart pounding. The shadowy tendrils lashed out, seizing me by the wrists and waist coldly and smoothly. It was strangely soft, like silk soaked in frost.
