"....."
A weird tension hung across the room.
Clink! Clink—!
The soft clinking of the cutlery echoed within the tense environment.
The old man cut into his steak with slow, careful movements, as if the act itself mattered more than the meal.
He didn't speak. Didn't look up.
He just smiled as he ate.
With every bite, his jaw moved slowly, like he was thinking hard or listening to something no one else could hear. Sometimes he paused, chewing with his eyes half-closed, the sound echoing in the surroundings.
All eyes were on him.
Nobody dared to make a sound or disturb him; all communicated with each other through messages or other means.
'...I don't have a good feeling about this.' Mia whispered quietly, looking in the direction of the old man.
I shared the same feeling as her.
Something about the current situation felt unsettling. Despite the old man eating and drinking with a smile, it was his lack of action that made my heart race.
Just what was he planning?
