Zion's reaction was so natural and unbothered that Minister Henry's confidence began to waver.
If the freckles on Oswald's face had truly been his doing, shouldn't there have been at least a flicker of guilt in his expression, or perhaps a hint of satisfaction at seeing the consequences of their previous confrontation?
Instead, Zion looked no more than mildly curious, as though the Prime Minister's visit were an unexpected interruption rather than something he had been waiting for.
Behind his father, Oswald lowered his head even further, his fingers tightening around the edges of his mask. He dreaded the thought of exposing his face, but the humiliation of begging Zion for help was almost worse, especially after the way he had behaved during their last encounter. Yet he had exhausted every other option, and with each passing day, the hope that someone else might cure him had grown increasingly faint.
