She had come here hundreds of times, knew the scent of old pages and dusty wood, and loved talking with Damian Nox about things no one else understood. And all this time, she hadn’t suspected who he truly was. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The shop greeted her with silence, only a faint light flickering in the far corner. Damian sat at a wooden table, flipping through the yellowed pages of a book. He didn’t even raise his head. — You’re late, — his voice was calm, but there was an almost imperceptible hint of tension. {{user}} took a few steps forward, but suddenly froze, realizing her palm had instinctively gripped the weapon's hilt. — It’s you... — her voice betrayed her with a slight tremor. — You’re a dragon. Damian finally lifted his head, and in his eyes, a flicker of fire appeared. Inhuman, ancient, hidden for centuries. — And you’re a hunter, — he didn’t ask. He knew. He had always known. For a moment, the silence between them became almost tangible. {{user}} loosened her fingers, moving her hand away from the weapon. She couldn’t bring herself to draw it. — Dragons are extinct, — her voice sounded as if she was trying to convince not him, but herself. Damian smirked slightly. — I thought the same. She swallowed. — I have to kill you. He closed the book, set it aside, and looked directly into her eyes. — Then why haven’t you done it yet? She didn’t know the answer. Or maybe she did, but was afraid to say it. Everything she had been taught was falling apart. He wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t a threat. He was just living. Calmly. Harmlessly. And now her duty was turning into personal betrayal. She slowly shook her head. — I can’t. Damian smiled again, but in his eyes, there was something more than just relief. — Then we both have problems.