I wore jat black coat and mask as I moved through the farm as quietly as possible, avoiding the traps I knew he'd set. I'd read about them in the novel, but seeing them in person was something else—woven nets hidden in the soil, wires disguised as vines, pressure triggers under loose dirt.
Ban wasn't paranoid.
He was… thorough.
If this was how he treated vegetables, I didn't even want to imagine how far he'd go with actual enemies.
I stopped just outside the field, the moonlight casting long shadows over rows of sleeping crops. My mask felt heavier than usual. My fingers tapped against the smooth porcelain, as if to remind myself that the mask was the role now, not me.
When Ban appeared, I didn't even hear him coming.
One moment, there was just wind and rustling leaves. The next, he was standing there—wide shoulders, arms like coiled ropes, eyes scanning me like he could pull me out of my own skin.
