Lydia's chest tightened as Leonid's words sank in. She blinked, her mind racing, trying to catch each fragment before it slipped away like smoke. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress, knuckles whitening, as if holding onto it could anchor her thoughts.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling, a little breathless. "What are you talking about?"
Leonid swallowed hard. He looked down at the courtyard stones, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. His small hands twisted the fabric nervously, his ten-year-old body tense with the weight of what he was about to say. He looked up at her, eyes wide, innocent yet serious beyond his years.
"My brother," Leonid said quietly. His voice wavered, but there was a firmness in it too, a kind of small bravery. "He has… a terrible habit. He can do anything. Anything to protect others. Especially those he loves. He can do anything. Even lie to protect people."
