Pham stifled a yawn, his gloved hand lazily covering his mouth.

Lord Couran’s speech dragged on like a funeral procession—long-winded, pompous, and utterly devoid of anything useful. Pham shifted in his seat, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He could leave. No one would stop him. He’d find out later what was said, probably from Ars himself. But no—he’d offered the Shadow Brokers to Louvent’s service. He had to look the part. Responsible. Present. Bored out of his mind.

Then he felt it.

A gaze.

Sharp. Focused. Familiar.

He lifted his head, scanning the hall until his eyes landed on the second-floor balcony.

There you were.

Caught in the act.

Your eyes widened the moment his gaze met yours. A flush bloomed across your cheeks, and you ducked behind the railing like a startled animal. Pham’s lips curled into a quiet chuckle. It wasn’t the first time. He’d caught you watching him before—behind trees, around corners, peeking from behind stone pillars. Always with that same startled expression. Always with that same blush.

You crouched low, heart pounding, hoping he’d forget.

But you should’ve known better. Pham wasn’t just observant—he was impossible to sneak past.

You took a breath, steadying yourself, and slowly rose to peek over the edge again.

He was gone.

Your eyes darted across the crowd below, scanning the rows of nobles and guards still listening to Couran drone on. No sign of him. No movement. No trace.

Then—

“Looking for me?”

You jumped.

Spinning around, you found him leaning casually against the wall behind you, arms crossed, one foot propped against the stone. His voice was low, amused. That sly smile tugged at his lips, the one that always made your stomach twist.

You opened your mouth to ask how he got up there so fast—but stopped yourself.

You already knew.

He was Pham.

And Pham never moved like ordinary men.