Noah smiled beneath his mask.
It was a small, quiet thing — barely a curve of the lips — but it was there. A reaction to a question he had already answered in his head long before Yuan had the courage to ask it.
"Yeah," he said simply.
Yuan couldn't see the smile, of course. The white surface of the mask swallowed every micro-expression, every flicker of warmth, presenting the same cold and unreadable face it always did.
To the Guild Master, Mr. White was as composed and emotionless as ever, giving nothing away.
But then the word landed.
Yuan's eyes went wide.
The slumped, weary posture he had been carrying since Tara's confession straightened almost instantly, like a man who had just been doused with cold water.
The fear and exhaustion that had been pulling at his features gave way to something else entirely — a raw, barely contained glee that he struggled to keep professional.
"R-really?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly on the word.
Noah nodded.
