A month passed before he knew it.
A month of peace, a month of calm, a month of happiness.
Then, his fingers paused, and a sudden sense of crisis rose in his heart.
The feeling was strange. It was not the temperature of the tea, not the sound of the wind outside the window, nor any information that could be captured by the senses.
It was something subtler, more fundamental, as if someone had lightly plucked a string on his timeline.
The sensation was faint, as faint as a breeze passing through his fingers, as faint as a sigh fading beside his ear.
But he caught it.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
He sensed danger.
It did not come from the depths of the universe, from a spatial rift, or from any source he could pinpoint.
It was there, at the edge of his perception, like a blurry shadow, like footsteps that had yet to touch the ground.
He could sense its existence, but he could not determine where it came from, what it was, or when it would arrive.
His finger lightly tapped the windowsill.
"Master, what's wrong?" Tifa's voice came from behind him.
She had noticed the pause in his fingers and the flash of vigilance in his eyes.
Loren turned around and looked into her black eyes.
"I sensed a feeling of danger spreading, but I can't pinpoint where it's coming from."
"What kind of danger?"
"I don't know. It's a very strange feeling. It seems someone is secretly plotting against me!"
Tifa walked to his side and placed her hand over his.
Her fingers were warm as they intertwined with his.
"Is there anything we need to do?"
"I haven't sensed its location yet, so there's nothing I can do!"
Tifa said nothing more. She merely stood