The air was thick with the smell of ink and old paper, a stark contrast to the stench of fear and wine I had known.

I stood in the elegant study, my head bowed, eyes fixed on the polished wooden floor. Master Kaito Tsukimori sat at a low table, his dark blue silk robes a whisper against the silence. He didn't look up, his attention absorbed by a scroll, a brush held loosely in his hand.

Minutes stretched into an eternity. My legs ached from standing, but I didn't dare shift. He had told me to wait, and I would wait. This was a new house, a new master, and I knew better than to invite trouble. My hands were clasped tightly in front of me, fingers interlocked, a desperate attempt to still the trembling that threatened to overcome me.

Then, a soft rustle as he turned a page. He paused, his brows knitting almost imperceptibly.

"...Are you standing there since?" His voice was calm, a gentle murmur like rain, yet it sent a shiver down my spine. It was so unlike the roars I was used to.