That butterfly pendant trembled when he stepped closer. Not fear—*recognition*. Every glance between Chen Yue and the leather-jacketed stranger held years of unsaid history. The pearl-necklace woman? She saw it too. Wrath of Pantheon thrives in micro-expressions: a twitch, a sip, a hand hovering mid-air. This isn’t drama—it’s psychological warfare with couture. 🦋🍷