At the mention of her name, the Old Master's gaze flickered toward Jiho, still frozen in place. For the briefest moment, an emotion Jihoon couldn't quite place—regret, perhaps, or pity—flashed across the old man's face. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual mask of cold detachment.
"You see, my lord," the Old Master said, turning his attention back to Jihoon, "Jiho's soul is not like others. It's fractured—scattered into countless pieces, each one holding a fragment of who she truly is. Strength. Loyalty. Compassion. Even in her broken state, she remains steadfast, unyielding to those who seek to exploit her. And you…"—his tone turned mocking again—"…you thought you could win her over with shallow tricks and fleeting desires. How pitifully naive."
Jihoon's breath caught, his anger momentarily giving way to a pang of guilt. He opened his mouth to respond, but the Old Master silenced him with a raised hand.
