Varian was confused.
He blinked. "Uh, Miss Marian… did you cut your nails while cooking or…?"
"Nails?" she asked, confused.
Varian turned to her, holding the fragment between two fingers. "Yeah. There's a nail in here."
Marian glanced down at her hands. "I don't think so? No, I didn't cut myself at all."
The table went quiet.
The air felt… heavier.
Varian looked at Ben. Then at William. Then at Daemon—who was calmly chewing, eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction.
"…Maybe it's mine," Varian said quickly, forcing a chuckle. "Haha, yeah. I might've scratched something while eating."
"Oh my," Marian said, smiling again. "You boys are wild. Be careful—no more nails in food, alright?"
Everyone returned to eating.
Except Varian.
The meat… it was soft. A little too soft. The texture—wrong. The flavor coppery.
Varian chewed slowly, his jaw tightening with every bite.
He glanced across the table at Daemon, who was casually smiling, eyes half-lidded, calm.
But Varian knew now.
