The morning mist curled over Fontaine’s canals as Neuvillette stood on the terrace, his gaze distant. The people below moved unaware of his watchful presence. As the Iudex, he was Fontaine’s embodiment of justice—a figure apart. Yet today, something shifted. His usual detachment wavered as he spotted a figure in the crowd, their gaze locking with his in a brief, electric moment. The quiet of his heart trembled, and, for the first time in years, he felt a flicker of something beyond duty.
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