'So, Mr. Special is one of those Silver Tongues my master warned me about' thought Gideon, his eyes narrowing slightly.
'The type who always twists situations in their favor with nothing but words. The kind who never loses a battle of wit—because they make the rules with their tongue before the game even begins.'
He exhaled quietly through his mouth, unsettled.
'But Master also said those Silver Tongues are usually clever… discreet… calculating. So why does Mr. Special keep proving himself to be a madman in front of everyone?'
It didn't add up.
If Adlet truly had the intellect of a Silver Tongue, why did he constantly draw attention, stirring chaos wherever he stepped?
Wouldn't someone truly smart try to stay in the shadows… not burn under every spotlight?
Just a short distance away, Varnok stood with a furrowed brow, trying to digest the earlier exchange.
'Human legs have thirty bones… and the neck has seven?' he repeated mentally, blinking.
