Outside the closed door, the two men stood still without realising it at first. Their footsteps had slowed when they reached the corridor, their initial urgency fading into hesitation. They had come upstairs because of concern, each driven by the same uneasy feeling that Hirvan might not be alright after what had happened earlier.
But neither of them had expected to hear voices from inside.
And once they did, neither of them moved away. They stood there, caught between guilt and something heavier, listening without meaning to, yet unable to stop.
Especially Fu Yan. At first, his expression had been tense, his brows drawn together as he listened. He had always had a vague idea that Hirvan leaned toward this kind of dynamic, that there was something deeper beneath his reactions, something that went beyond simple curiosity or impulse.
