Ren Lockwood had spent most of his life learning how not to be seen.
Servants survived by staying beneath notice. Becoming a symbol was just another way to be hunted.
Servants survived that way.
Eyes lowered at the correct angle. Steps quiet enough not to irritate, loud enough not to startle. Hands steady no matter how hot the tea, how sharp the insult, how expensive the glass currently breaking because some noble heir had mistaken boredom for authority.
Visibility was danger.
Visibility meant blame had found a body.
Visibility meant a young master could point and the room would agree reality had always been your fault.
By noon, Ren's name was written on three boards.
The Team Seven registry.
The infirmary notice confirming his witness status.
The servant corridor slate where assignments were posted.
That last one frightened him the most.
Student boards carried politics. Staff boards carried consequences.
A small line had been chalked beside his name.
