"Father, can we talk in private? There's something I need to tell you," Valery said, her voice low but firm.
Riley paused mid-step and turned to look at her.
For a brief moment, his sharp eyes studied her expression, as if trying to measure the gravity of her words.
Then he smiled faintly.
"Of course, Valery. Come with me."
He led her down a quiet corridor and into his study.
The moment the door closed, the outside world seemed to fade away.
Tall shelves covered every wall, overflowing with books of every kind—ancient histories, cultivation manuals, forgotten legends, poetry, philosophy, and even worn collections of fairy tales.
The faint scent of old parchment and ink lingered in the air.
Riley had built this private library over many years, using reading as a way to endure the long, monotonous stretches of his life.
Riley walked around his desk and sat down, folding his hands together calmly.
