Minjae's jaw tightened. He gritted his teeth but he didn't react any further.
Minjae adjusted the tray in his hands, forcing his shoulders back, spine straight. The stable air was thick with hay, horse sweat, and damp wood, each scent sharper than usual this morning. He forced a calm, practiced breath, reminding himself: Clara. Stay silent. Keep the act. Survive.
"Well, well," Bram said, leaning forward, eyes raking over Clara with a slow, predatory scrutiny. "Look at you, girl. Don't suppose a mouth like yours is ever used for more than carrying drinks, eh?"
The others laughed, nudging one another. "Bet she's hiding something under that apron. Pretty hands, quiet as a mouse… I'd like to see what else she can do."
Minjae's stomach clenched. He forced himself to nod politely, lifting the tray higher, carefully avoiding the lingering scent of the men, each step measured to keep balance. He set down the first mug with careful precision.
