“did you have fun?” chrollo asks, sitting cross-legged behind the ornate desk in your hotel room. he sips from the teacup in his hand, lounging there as if nothing was unusual. as if you hadn’t run away two years ago, leaving behind the phantom troupe, your name, and everything else in your old life—including your brother.

you’d only come to york new for business. the last person you expected to see was your older brother.

but here he is, sitting by the window of your hotel room, looking up at you with a casual smile. it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

you know what he’s really asking. did you have fun running away for two years? did you have fun living a life that wasn’t truly yours?