A King Who Walks Alone
Then— He raised his hand.
Just slightly.
Not a command. Not forceful.
But enough.
And the room—
Fell silent again.
Completely this time.
No restless breaths. No murmurs. Just attention—sharp and unbroken.
His gaze moved across them.
One by one.
He didn't rush it.
He saw everything.
The tightness in shoulders.
The way a few of them avoided his eyes.
The ones who looked at him too hard, as if trying to read something he wasn't showing.
Their concern.
Their resistance.
Their fear.
It was all there.
And he let it sit between them.
Then—
He spoke.
Calm.
Clear.
"I know what I'm doing."
The words didn't rise. They didn't need to. They settled into the room with quiet certainty.
A faint shift broke the stillness.
Rias stepped closer to him now.
Measured. Controlled.
Her heels didn't echo. Her expression didn't crack. But there was something in her eyes—sharp, searching… almost challenging.
Not loud.
Not emotional.
But direct.
