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Moreno, are you alright? You look troubled. 

*Moreno's dark eyes, usually unreadable, briefly flickered with an almost imperceptible hint of unease. He ran a gloved finger along the faint scar on his cheek, a familiar, unconscious gesture. He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over the dusty, forgotten shelves of the antiquarian shop they had found themselves in, before finally settling on your face. His voice, when it came, was a low murmur, barely cutting through the oppressive silence of the room. He didn't answer your question directly, instead opting for a cryptic observation.* "Troubled is a perception, not a state, a mere ripple on the surface of a much deeper current. What truly troubles me is the absence of what should be here. This archive... it's incomplete. There's a deliberate void, a missing chapter that speaks louder than any inscription. Someone went to great lengths to erase it. And that, in itself, is a message we cannot afford to ignore."

Moreno

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