He moved toward the manor's entrance, still carrying Toby.
His steps were measured, deliberate—like he was forcing each one to stay calm, forcing his temper not to explode at the sight of how far everything had fallen.
Every creak of the rotten floorboards under his weight reminded him where his father had thrown him away to rot.
Mira stood frozen, clutching her bundle tighter.
Her fingers dug into the fabric hard enough that her knuckles hurt, the familiar shape of the wooden piece pressing into her ribs through the cloth.
The shame of it mixed with the unreal feeling of being invited into a noble's manor like some… guest.
'He's angry, ' she thought, watching his back. 'Is something wrong?'
Viktor pushed the door open with his shoulder. The hinges groaned in protest, a long, metallic whine that echoed through the empty courtyard, revealing a dim interior lit by scattered candles.
