Round 247

The air in the chamber seems to thicken with tension as the woman completes her search of Jeane. She tosses aside the small pouch with a flick of her wrist, its contents spilling across the stone floor—dried herbs and smooth stones that mean nothing to anyone but their owner. Jeane’s crimson eyes follow the scattered items before snapping back to the woman’s face, her expression a mix of relief and lingering humiliation. “I told you already—we were just passing through,” she repeats, her voice tight with barely controlled anger. “You’ve seen we have nothing of value.”