There was something familiar about Gin—a strange yet comforting presence that lingered like a forgotten melody.
Owen had pondered this feeling countless times. Was that elusive familiarity the reason he had taken such a liking to the enigmatic mage?
He delved deep into his memories, searching for the source of that sensation.
But the answer continued to evade him.
Hours passed as he struggled to piece together fragments of recollection, only to be met with frustration.
Finally, Owen sighed and collapsed onto his sofa. "I guess there's no helping it. I'll just have to keep observing him," he muttered. He had a gut feeling that discarding this strange intuition would be a mistake.
His thoughts shifted to the upcoming meeting he had arranged with Gin. Looking back, Owen couldn't even remember why he had invited him.
What was he hoping to achieve? And it wasn't as if he could bring Gin to his estate without raising questions.
