The old man's eyes sparkled with unrestrained curiosity, a rare sight that made Ashok feel an odd sense of déjà vu.
'No matter who it is—that shorty or this old crook—they all have the same look in their eyes when they find something that piques their interest,' Ashok mused internally, resisting the urge to sigh at how predictable they could be.
Feigning indifference, he moved to pick up the Art Manuals and his ID card from the desk, his motions fluid, deliberate—only to be stopped short.
The old man's hand landed firmly on top of his ID card.
"Don't go acting all smart, boy. What is this about you rejecting the offer of being his Inheritor?" His voice, though controlled, carried an unmistakable edge of intrigue.
Ashok met his gaze without hesitation. "Why do you care now? Weren't you the one telling me to 'Get Lost'? So why take an interest in someone who's already on their way out?"
His tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable challenge beneath it.
