The old man's fingers tightened against the edge of the wooden desk, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to sharp scrutiny.
"Circumstances! Eh! Big words coming from a kid. Just what kind of circumstances could someone like you possibly have?"
His voice carried the weight of skepticism, as if trying to unravel something about Ashok—something that didn't quite fit within the framework of a typical student.
"Shall I take your words as unwillingness to hand over the manual?" asked Ashok.
The old man paused, caught off guard by the sheer lack of hesitation in Ashok's tone. It wasn't the response of someone pleading—it was a direct demand, without fear or doubt.
His gaze narrowed further, and for the first time, he truly questioned something deeper.
"You… Are you truly a student?"
The words hung between them, sharp, challenging.
Yet Ashok's reply was instant—unwavering.
"If not a student, what do I look like in your eyes?"
A test—one that the old man hadn't expected.
