The bartender paused. His movements, usually so fluidly precise, became stiff, almost hesitant. He slowly straightened, his face still a shadowed enigma, but Kars felt the weight of his gaze, a subtle shift in the air that spoke of scrutiny. The silence, already heavy, grew oppressive, stretching taut like a bowstring about to snap.
Then, the bartender's head tilted, just slightly. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift, but it was enough. Kars felt a prickle of unease, a cold sensation that crawled up his spine. The bartender's unseen eyes seemed to pierce the illusion of his injury, probing deeper, into the very fabric of the spell that clung to Kars.
"You brought something... unnatural," the bartender's voice was a low, resonant murmur, devoid of the usual welcoming neutrality, infused instead with a metallic hum that set Kars' teeth on edge. It wasn't a question, but a statement of chilling certainty.
