Michael's eyes darted over to her, searching for any hint of threat. But what he found was something else entirely.
Curiosity.
Genuine, sharp, and bright—like a scholar peering into a rare specimen rather than a hunter tracking prey.
He swallowed once and let out a breath.
"I… don't know what you mean," he said carefully. "I'm from far away. Really far. A small place… probably not worth mentioning. I doubt it's on any maps."
Priscilla didn't interrupt him, didn't press. She simply stared, letting him fill the silence.
Michael continued, mind working at full speed.
"I guess… you could say I'm a traveler. My origin isn't something I speak about openly, not because I'm hiding anything dangerous, but because it's complicated. I hope you won't take offense."
The Princess inclined her head, voice calm. "I see. You're careful. That's wise."
He didn't answer.
However...
"You seem really talented in magic though. Surely no 'small' place can cultivate a genius like you."
