The door clicked shut behind Miles, sealing the room in a muted stillness.
He stepped forward, the faint scent of old wood and cigar ash lingering in the air.
General Wilfred Wraithbourne sat calmly on the long leather couch — posture straight, eyes sharp, very much the soldier he once was.
The old man turned his head slightly.
"You are here."
Miles studied him for a breath. "General Wilfred. You don't seem surprised to see me."
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of the general's lips.
"I never imagined we'd meet under my own roof again… but yes, I expected you. Ghost of the Graveyard."
"I'm retired," Miles replied coolly.
"Hn." Wilfred exhaled, almost amused. "Retired… and yet the world refuses to retire from you. Responsibilities don't end, son—they simply change shape."
Miles stepped closer.
"Let's get to the point. Did you invite Miles Sterling, or the Ghost?"
Wilfred's eyes narrowed with a weight that felt older than the walls around them.
