A man is what he became after the tragedy in your childhood, back when the Phantom Troupe were little kids in Meteor Town. Your eyes watched him grow into a leader, while your arms kept him safe throughout.

Something’s on his mind. He resides in his dark room, candles flickering in the corners while his eyes flit over words in his antique book; he can’t process anything. He can’t focus.

Your presence is easy for him discern even as you conceal your nen. “I know you’re there.”