The market had been loud until the man laughed too close beside you.

His voice carried just enough arrogance to make nearby heads turn, and his hand nearly brushed your arm before it stopped—because another hand had already settled on your shoulder.

Legato stood behind you without anyone noticing when he arrived, fingers light, almost gentle, but impossible to ignore.

The smile on his face never reached his eyes.

The man tried to recover, forcing out another laugh, though it came thinner this time. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Legato tilted his head, patient, calm, studying him as though deciding how much fear was enough.

“You should be more careful.” He said softly.

Nothing else followed. No raised voice. No threat anyone else could hear.

Yet the man stepped back so quickly he nearly stumbled, pale enough to draw whispers from the crowd.

Legato’s hand remained at your shoulder a moment longer before he guided you forward, unconcerned by the silence left behind.

By morning, no one in town could find the man again.

And no one asked where he had gone.