"No," Damian said suddenly, just as the heavy basement doors began to open.
He turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the wide corridors.
Lyra blinked in confusion. "Young master?" she called out, already following. "The basement's that way..."
Damian didn't stop. His tone was steady, but there was something deeper behind it—something resolute.
"This isn't right."
"But—what do you mean?"
He kept walking. "I said we're going to save Ren," he replied, cutting off the growing confusion in her voice. "And I'm not just talking about getting him out of a cell…"
He paused, finally turning to look her in the eyes.
"…I want to save his heart too."
The words hung in the air, heavier than any sword.
Lyra froze. She hadn't expected that answer.
Then, slowly, a soft smile curved her lips. She looked at him—really looked—and saw more than just resolve. She saw pain. Hope. Compassion.
