"So, let me get this straight."
Akamir said, his voice echoing within his room.
"You don't actually know what a bloodline is?"
"That's not what I meant."
Nayomi replied, staring into his eyes.
"I said, I am not sure what a bloodline is—."
"That's the same thing," Akamir cut in. "You're so dumb."
"..."
Nayomi's lips twitched as she glared at him, clearly annoyed.
Akamir looked away and reached for the book beside his bed.
It was morning now, the start of the weekend, and he'd returned to his estate the night before.
"Bloodline… bloodline," he muttered, rubbing his chin as he flipped through the pages.
Until—.
He finally found what he was looking for.
His finger tapped the aged page.
"There," he said quietly. "Found it."
Nayomi floated closer, her glare forgotten as she leaned over his shoulder.
The book was old, its yellowed pages smelling of dust and dried herbs.
The ink had faded, but the script remained neat and elegant.
