In one of the countless murmuring halls of the convention building, Brigid sat quietly on a long bench pressed against the wall. Her back was stiff, arms resting on her lap, and her head hung just enough to make her bangs cast a soft shadow over her soft face.
Her eyes were fixed—dead center—on the shiny, spotless marble floor beneath her boots.
Her lips didn't move. Her brows didn't twitch.
『What Irina said…』
It hadn't left her mind.
She was completely still.
Sarah stood a few steps away with her arms folded tightly under her chest. Her brow furrowed in concern, but she didn't say a word. Not yet, at least.
It was hard to tell if what Irina had said had truly gotten to Brigid… or if Brigid was just processing everything in that steel-forged head of hers. Sarah hadn't known her long, but in the time she had spent with Brigid, one thing had stood out—she was practically unshakable.
Not arrogant or thick-skinned… just intensely indifferent to anyone who wasn't Nightwatch.
