Chris turned more fully toward him, his light coat draping elegantly over the sofa back.
"What is it?" he replied, voice composed and open, blue eyes meeting Satoru's steadily.
Satoru leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees, black sleeves pulling taut.
He kept his tone measured, like filing a routine report.
"I've read some of your books… the ones about Ryū, the Dragon Lord."
He let the words linger, his sharp eyes watching Chris's reaction closely.
Through months of using his X-ray-like vision to peer through the shared wall, Satoru had seen the truth countless times: Rin at the desk in his room, blue hair tousled, scribbling or typing furiously into manuscripts late into the night—
the real author crafting the thrilling tales of monster battles and adventures.
