Nolan yawned, letting the sounds of the crowd fade into background noise.
The artificial cheer, the gasps, the murmurs—it was all just a smog of foolishness.
He leaned his back against a wooden stall behind him, arms crossed. His mind drifted for a moment, trying to untangle the lingering doubt from earlier, but no fresh insight came.
The smell of fried skewers in the air was more compelling than the secondhand thrill of scammy street magic.
But then, his spine prickled.
Not the kind of spine prick that came from danger—no, this was different. It was more… annoying.
A breeze shifted above. A faint sparkle shimmered in his peripheral vision. And before he could even sigh, a familiar voice coiled around his ear like honey laced with poison.
"There you are, Master Nolan~♡!"
Nolan's brow twitched.
He wonders why she seems different from before. Is she planning something? No, I am not going to sacrifice my lifespan with my semen.
