"I always hated math," Mikhailis muttered dryly, rubbing at the tension that tightened at his temple. He glanced sideways at the shimmering projection Rodion displayed in front of him, feeling a mild irritation at how neat and ordered the data seemed—each tiny detail arranged with perfect precision, as though mocking the chaos he felt inside himself.
Elowen remained silent. Usually, she might have smiled faintly or at least rolled her eyes at Rodion's sarcastic commentary. Instead, her face had turned pale, the warmth drained from her cheeks, replaced by a subtle tension around her mouth. Her fingers gripped the edges of her robe a little too tightly, the knuckles pale and taut, betraying her unease.
