Veil of Destiny

Chapter 23 Enlightenment

Isabella jumped up in a panic, stammering, "I'm sorry for dirtying your things. I didn't mean to."

Dorian smiled warmly, like a spring breeze. "It's okay. You can have it. Over the past month, without you, Ryder would have suffered even more."

The girl looked surprised. "You, you know Mr. Ryder?"

"Yes, not only do I know him, we are best friends." Dorian paused, carefully surveying the courtyard. Although the small yard was simple, it was arranged with an elegant, natural touch, even making someone like Dorian feel a sense of tranquility. Softly, he asked the girl, "May I see your grandfather?"

The girl hesitated, then whispered, "Grandpa is in a bad mood right now."

Dorian said, "Don't worry, I just want to meet him. Meanwhile, you should go to Ryder's place, familiarize yourself with the environment, and get ready to work."

"But what about Grandpa?"

"I'll explain it to him for you. Oh, and whatever medicine your grandpa needs, you can tell Ryder. The cost will be your bonus."

"But those medicines are expensive!"

"That's why you need to do your job well!" Dorian laughed, his eyes twinkling.

"I will!" The girl nodded vigorously, then happily left.

Dorian noticed it was already late afternoon, and the old man was still sulking inside. Laughing heartily, he kicked the door open and walked in.

Instantly, a thunderous voice erupted, "Who are you? Don't you know how to knock? Ah, a nobleman. This humble home doesn't welcome your kind! I can't afford to dirty your shoes!"

Dorian looked around the small room. It was cramped, with a bunk bed, a table, and two chairs, leaving little space. There was a small door that seemed to lead to a kitchen. Dorian pulled up a chair, sat opposite the old man, and poured himself a cup of tea from the teapot on the table.

The old man's face turned from red to purple. If Dorian weren't a noble, he might have thrown something at him.

Dorian squinted, scrutinizing the old man like a wolf eyeing a lamb. The room fell silent, the only sound was the old man's heavy breathing.

"Fog Illusion Master!" Dorian's soft words hit the old man like a thunderclap, making him jump and drop the teapot.

With a slight hum, the teapot seemed to be caught by an invisible hand, flipping back onto the table.

After a moment of silence, Dorian asked sarcastically, "What are you afraid of?"

The old man slumped back into his chair, seeming to age several years in an instant. "Fog Illusion, Fog Illusion... It's been over a decade since anyone mentioned that name. The Fog Illusion Master is long dead. You nobles forced him into ruin. Even if he were alive, he wouldn't lift a finger for you. If you have no other business, please leave. This old man just wants some peace in his final days."

"Hmph, this old man is truly despicable. He has blocked off all paths for negotiation." Dorian cursed angrily in his mind, "I won't let you have your way!"

Dorian picked up the small teapot, examining it for a moment, then shook his head. "What a joke. The so-called Fog Illusion must have been overrated. Just looking at this teapot, it's clear that years of street life have dulled Fog Illusion Master's eyes. I might as well go to the duchy's art gallery and seek help from some art experts."

The old man, furious, shouted, "What do you know about taste, you vulgar child! Put that teapot down! Don't make me throw you out!"

Dorian didn't believe the threat. Attacking a noble could have severe consequences. He ignored it, rolling his eyes and scoffing, "Even if I know nothing, I understand that true art is about divine craftsmanship. Art masters don't create in squalid places. What inspiration can they find in filth? Paintings of scolding mothers and crying children?"