In a room at Rodriguez Manor, Schiller's gaze fell on Lex's bow tie. Lex lowered his head slightly, then turned to look at himself in the mirror.
Tying a bow tie was not complicated. It was only because the soft silk fabric had a peculiar texture, and the pattern squeezed out by the central knot could not be made perfectly symmetrical. Lex had just been adjusting that, wasting several minutes.
One Hand reached around Lex's shoulder, drawing close to his neck. Lex broke into a cold sweat almost instantly as fragments of his previous associations with that hand replayed continuously in his mind.
Human hand movements carried special significance, because different people used the muscles in their hands differently. Even in different circumstances, the expressions conveyed by hands often reflected a person's state more truthfully than their face.
Like Schiller, Lex thought. When Professor Schiller held a pen, he was usually firm and focused. Out of teaching habit, his gestures while speaking were always more logical—eye-catching when he needed to remind someone of something, and perfectly still when he needed a topic to quietly pass.
But his godfather's hand movements were always unexpected. Whenever he reached out to do something, the muscles of his hands and forearms were always taut, as though he were gathering strength to throw a punch. The veins beneath his skin appeared light and agile when they moved, yet his skin and bones seemed especially heavy. It was hard not to wonder where those hands, which looked so dexterous and powerful, had once exerted their strength.
That did not inspire pleasant associations. More often, it brought to mind scenes with a more violent sort of aesthetic.
When such hands approached a vital spot, Lex truly found it difficult not to move his legs and run. For