Chapter 396: A Sister’s Suspicion

Camilla looked at the offered hand for a brief second. She did not take it at once. Instead she inclined her head in a measured, almost regal gesture.

"Camilla."

Only after that slight pause did she rise and accept the handshake. Her grip was cool and precise, lasting only as long as courtesy required before she released it and returned to her seat with the same unhurried composure.

Sacha withdrew her hand, the lingering sense of that faint suppression still brushing against her instincts like a soft pressure behind the eyes. She glanced at Stan again, searching his face for any further explanation, but he only gave her a mild, reassuring look and gestured toward the couch.

"Sit down, Sis. You came all this way. Want something to drink?"

Sacha hesitated a moment longer, then nodded and took a seat on the opposite side of the living room, keeping a careful distance from Camilla without making the choice obvious.

The atmosphere remained polite on the surface, yet a quiet undercurrent of assessment ran beneath it, Sacha still turning the word ’comrade’ over in her mind, and Camilla watching the exchange with the detached interest of someone who had already decided how much of herself she was willing to show.

Sacha settled onto the couch, but her attention soon drifted back to her brother. For the first time since arriving she truly looked at him.

Stan stood in a simple black singlet and shorts, the clean lines of muscle along his arms, shoulders, and chest fully visible. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before, yet something about him felt different.

Over the past few weeks he had changed in ways that still surprised her, rising from relative obscurity to become a major shareholder in both Wanhai and Star Entertainment, carrying himself with a new maturity that matched his sudden influence. But this was another layer entirely. His presence felt calmer, denser, more solid. Even his eyes seemed subtly altered, as though something quieter and heavier now lived behind them.

’Something about my brother feels different,’ she thought, frowning slightly without realizing it.

Stan noticed the prolonged stare and raised an eyebrow. "What is it? Something on my face?"

Sacha quickly shook her head. "It’s nothing."

’If I tell him I’m sensing all this, he’ll think I’ve lost it. I don’t even know how to explain it... it’s like he’s not entirely the same person I grew up with.’

Her gaze shifted toward Camilla again. The faint, instinctive pressure from earlier still brushed against her senses, the first time she had ever felt anything like it. Combined with the strangely dense, comfortable atmosphere of the apartment, it left her both curious and quietly protective.

She kept her tone light, almost casual. "How long have you known my brother?"

Camilla, still seated with perfect composure, answered without hesitation. "Not very long."

"And you live here?"

A brief pause. Camilla’s eyes flicked toward Stan, then away. "...No. Just sightseeing."

Sacha’s head turned toward her brother at once, the single word carrying a clear request for explanation.

Stan only met her look with mild calm, offering nothing further for the moment. The quiet tension between the three of them was unmistakable, Sacha trying to map out the exact nature of this "comrade," Camilla remaining proudly unconcerned with ordinary human expectations, and Stan standing in the middle of it all as though the situation were perfectly ordinary.

Then Sacha’s nose caught the lingering aroma still hanging in the air, rich, complex, and strangely compelling. She glanced toward the kitchen.

"Did you two cook something?"

Stan nodded. "Yeah."

"What was it?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

Stan’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second. ’Polar-bear liver. But I can’t tell her that. How do I even begin to explain where I got it? And I can’t serve her any of it either. The vitamin A content would be dangerous for her. She’s not like me or Camilla.’

He forced an easy smile. "Just some meat. We’ve already finished everything. I’ve still got some refrigerated meat left, though, I’ll cook something for you, Sis. My skills have improved a lot lately."

Sacha’s face brightened. "I can’t wait to test them, then. I want to see how much you’ve improved."

Across the room, Camilla’s crimson eyes locked onto Stan with quiet intensity. She could not understand why he was claiming the earlier meal was completely gone. The bowls had been emptied, yes, but the reason for the deliberate omission escaped her. She said nothing, only watched him with that same composed, faintly assessing gaze.

Stan gave his sister another mild smile and turned toward the kitchen. "Give me a few minutes."

Inside, he worked quickly and cleanly. He selected ordinary ingredients for safety, adding only a modest portion of the polar-bear muscle meat, nothing from the organs, and the smallest measured drop of liquid Qi. The Qi would be mild enough to benefit Sacha without any risk. The result would be flavorful, nourishing, and entirely safe.

As the pan began to heat and the first familiar scents rose, the quiet undercurrent of curiosity and unspoken questions continued to linger in the living room behind him.

Sacha leaned back slightly, arms folded, eyes moving between the closed kitchen doorway and the composed woman seated across from her. The apartment still felt... heavier than it should. Not oppressive. Simply denser, as if the air itself carried a weight she could almost lean against.

Camilla did not fill the silence. She sat with her spine straight, hands resting lightly in her lap, crimson gaze half-lidded yet fully aware. She had already taken Sacha’s measure during the handshake and the brief exchange that followed. The younger woman’s instincts were sharper than most, her wariness genuine rather than performative. Interesting. But not yet concerning.

Sacha broke the quiet first, voice still carefully casual. "He’s different lately."

Camilla’s eyes shifted toward her. "Is he."

It was not quite a question.

Sacha studied the other woman’s face for a moment, searching for any flicker of shared understanding, then looked away. "Yeah. He is."

In the kitchen, the sound of oil meeting hot metal rose softly. The scent that followed was warm and savory, layered with something cleaner and brighter than ordinary seasoning. Stan moved with practiced efficiency, every motion precise. He did not look back toward the living room. He already knew the shape of the silence waiting for him there.