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Same face. Same sharp eyes. But everything else about him had changed. No more wild, messy hair. No ink-stained sleeves or distracted, mad-scientist energy. Julian Marlowe looked — for lack of a better word — composed. Neat dark suit. Crisp shirt, unbuttoned just enough to still look careless. A polished kind of elegance that Anna almost didn’t recognize. But beneath it all, there was still him — the same coiled intensity, lurking just beneath the surface like a storm pretending to behave.

The assistant looked up from her task, a bright smile forming as she greeted the man entering the store. "Good afternoon, Mr. Marlowe," she said. "I was just telling her about you."

Anna's eyes locking with Julian’s.

"Oh, yeah," the assistant continued, glancing at Anna. "This is Mr. Julian Marlowe, the author of The Camphorwood Guardian you were asking about. He’s also the owner of this bookstore."

Anna blinked.

She hadn't expected this. Julian, the man who had once been so lost in his theories, his experiments, now stood in front of her — wearing an impeccably tailored suit and effortlessly exuding an air of quiet authority. Her mind tried to catch up, but before she could sort through it all, she finally spoke, her voice a little hesitant, but steady enough.

"Hi, Mr. Marlowe. It’s... good to see you." She paused, giving him a small smile. "How are you?"

As she spoke, Anna couldn't help but think about how much had changed since they last met. She herself wasn’t the same person anymore, not the wide-eyed student who had entered his chaotic world of theories and endless nights of work. She had grown, too, and with that growth came the quiet wonder — would he recognize her?

Julian’s gaze lingered on her for a brief moment, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips curved slightly, just enough to show a hint of recognition — but no more.

"I’m doing well," he said, his voice calm but carrying that familiar undercurrent of intensity. "I’m glad to see my book caught your attention."