Why's he dumb?

The young woodcutter's gaze flicked from Artis to Lily, his brow furrowing slightly. Then, without breaking eye contact with her, he leaned in and whispered something against her ear.

Lily rolled her eyes, gave him a light slap on the arm, and whispered something back while pointing at Artis.

'Oh, for fuck's sake—enough with the secret meetings. What the hell is this, a spy convention? Just say it out loud, goddammit.'

Artis kept his face neutral, standing there like a benevolent, patient man who wasn't just eavesdropping on a conversation about his own fate.

On the outside, he was cool, collected, exuding noble confidence.

On the inside? He was screaming.

Then—CLAP!

Lily suddenly clapped her hands together, breaking the moment like a schoolteacher catching two students passing notes.