For a moment, Si Hon's steps slowed.
His gaze drifted— just slightly, back toward the far end of the towering shelves, where those two distant figures still stood. They hadn't moved much, but now that he looked closer, there was a faint shift, subtle, almost easy to miss. One leaned lightly against the shelf, a book open in hand, while the other stood beside them, flipping a page with unhurried calm.
Just reading.
Quiet. Still. Completely absorbed.
Like this place belonged to them.
For a second, the scene felt… off. Too calm compared to everything else.
Then—
Si Hon looked away.
"Not my problem."
The words were quiet, almost lost in the stillness, but his decision was firm. Whatever those figures were— this wasn't the place to dig into it. Not now. Not when Han was here. Not when there were better opportunities waiting elsewhere.
