The name came from Damien’s list.Not the most important one.Not the most obvious.Which was exactly why Caelan noticed it.“Lorin,” he said, tapping the page lightly.Damien glanced over from across the table.“Kitchen staff,” he replied. “Assigned to the west wing. Rotates occasionally through private service.”“Occasionally,” Caelan repeated.“Yes.”Caelan leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.“Which means access.”“To certain rooms,” Damien agreed.“To certain conversations,” Caelan added.A pause.“And to things he shouldn’t be hearing,” Damien finished.Exactly.Caelan slid the paper back across the table.“He’s been moved twice in the last month,” he said. “Not promotion. Not discipline.”“No official reason,” Damien confirmed.“Then it’s not official.”Silence.Because that—That was how it worked.Movements without explanation.Changes without record.People slipping through the structure just enough to matter—But not enough to draw attention.Unless you were looking.And n
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