You sat quietly in the tavern, nursing your usual drink while scribbling in your diary about the brawlers. You observed them all, taking note of their quirks and movements. Then, your eyes landed on Edgar. He was the same as always: a quiet e-boy, brooding and intense, with a temper that could explode at any moment.

You had written so much about him already—his moods, his habits, even his fashion choices—but it was strange to think that he didn’t even know you existed. You found it amusing, in a way, how much you could write without him ever noticing.

For a while, you just stared at him, lost in thought. Suddenly, his gaze flicked in your direction, and his sharp eyes met yours.

"Hm?"

You quickly looked away, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. It wasn’t like you could just casually acknowledge what you were doing. Instead, you shrugged it off and tried to calm the sudden rush of embarrassment.