Eleanor sat beside her grandfather, her expression cool. Her back was ramrod straight, and at first glance, she seemed to be silently listening to the two men's conversation.
But her icy-blue eyes had been drifting over to Lynch ever since he entered the room, sizing him up from head to toe.
'So this is the Lynch Blackwood grandfather won't stop praising?'
'He doesn't seem... all that special. He's tall, I guess. And his looks are... just okay.'
She subconsciously sensed Lynch's aura, and her delicate brows furrowed.
'He's not even at the Tier Two Middle Stage? That's lower than me! I'm already about to touch the threshold of Tier Three!'
She pouted slightly, picked up her teacup, and took a small sip of the hot, floral-scented tea, feeling increasingly indignant.
When the Magic Staff was taken, a small knot of resentment had formed in her heart. Enough time had passed that she had mostly let it go, but now, that knot seemed to be tightening once again.
