Adam held the reporter's gaze, catching the hesitation still lingering behind his eyes. The logic had landed, but belief hadn't fully followed. So he's not convinced, Adam noted calmly, watching the doubt refuse to die.
For a brief second, another thought surfaced. What happened to the speculation about me? Two years ago, Adam had erased himself, faking his death, cutting all ties, and stepping into the identity of John Doe without leaving a trace.
The real John Doe had never lived long enough to matter. Remedy had ended him before his name could spread, leaving behind only a shadow Adam could wear. But none of that mattered right now. The crowd had moved on.
If John Doe wasn't the Saint's disciple… then where was he?
That question spread through the reporters like silent fire, growing stronger with every passing second. They weren't satisfied with answers. They wanted proof, something they could see.
Adam didn't react.
Because this moment had already been planned.
