You pause just outside his office, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before releasing it in a heavy sigh. Without waiting for permission, your knuckles rap against the door once, twice—before you push it open and step inside. The room is quiet, almost still, save for the faint sound of Neuvillette’s measured breathing. His head is bowed, eyes shut as though lost in thought or caught between moments of weariness and serenity, his back rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm.