The sound of their footsteps echoed through the long metallic hallway as Trinity led the way, her pace steady, almost bored. She didn't look back once.
Lumian walked in silence, hands in his pockets, his gaze flicking around, taking in the surroundings with quiet calculation.
Shirley, however, wasn't as patient.
She tapped Lumian on the shoulder, leaning in close.
"What's her deal?" she muttered, keeping her voice low. "Do you know her or something?"
Lumian glanced ahead at Trinity's stiff, straight posture.
"No," he answered evenly. "But she clearly knows me."
He wasn't blind.
From the moment they met, Trinity had been acting strange toward him. Cold, condescending—yet almost too focused on him, as if she were looking at something she couldn't quite understand.
"She either knows who I am," he murmured, more to himself than Shirley, "or she knows something about me that makes her act like this."