Denied.

A brief silence stretched between them. Then—Donald's face shifted, adopting a look of exaggerated understanding.

"Ohhh, I see," he drawled, nodding as if he had just pieced together some grand revelation. "You miss your sister, and you want to meet her?"

Arthur didn't react to the condescension in his tone. He simply nodded.

Donald sighed dramatically, his expression softening into something mockingly sympathetic.

Then—his hand moved.

Arthur's eyes flicked downward as Donald's palm landed on his right shoulder, gripping it lightly.

There was something unsettling about it.

A gesture of reassurance. It seemed. But Arthur knew better.

Donald smiled—a small smile.

"Arthur… I'm afraid I can't let you see her."

Arthur's pupils dilated, his mind racing through every possible scenario. Why? What happened? Is she—