The chosen meeting place, however, wasn't the Guild itself.
"Why my dojo?" barked Gien, glaring at us with a scowl that could curdle milk.
"I'm sorry," I said, bowing apologetically. "I don't know the capital well, and Clauded is from another country. I thought your dojo was an easy, neutral spot."
Air, entirely unbothered, casually crunched another fish snack. "It's close and convenient."
Gien groaned, muttering under his breath about freeloaders and lost dignity, but ultimately he waved us inside.
Before long, Clauded arrived, his striking figure as intimidating as ever. Even as a man, I couldn't deny his commanding presence—a rare blend of grace and raw power.
His uncovered eye burned with a barely concealed fury as it locked onto me.
Yep, that was the look of a brother glaring at the man who had enslaved his sister. Understandable, if not entirely fair. Whatever the circumstances, Cloché's current status was my responsibility. His resentment was inevitable.
