A heavy, ragged breath escaped my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped drum inside a hollow chamber. I held his gaze without flinching, burying every trace of fear beneath a wall of quiet intensity.
"I am hunting for my mother," I declared, keeping my tone clipped and unwavering despite the tremor in my lungs. "She was once a frequent, prominent customer in this very shop. Her features mirror mine—the same dark hair, the same eyes. Years ago, she traveled to this market to purchase wooden chests and woven baskets. But it was your crafted boxes she bought the most."
The craftsman shifted uncomfortably on his wooden stool, his broad hands trembling against his knees. His gaze darted anxiously toward the dusty floorboards, then flicked toward the open doorway where the m
