"There's someone you need to meet. An old friend, Braxton Miller. He's a professor at NVA now. Good man to have in your corner."
As we moved away from the center of the gala, the cacophony of polite laughter and clinking glasses faded. Luka led me down a quieter, less-trafficked wing of the building, past portraits of legendary Hunters whose painted eyes seemed to follow our movement with stern disapproval.
"Who exactly is Professor Miller?" I asked, filing away the name for future reference.
"Braz? He's... complicated," Luka chuckled. "A-Rank Hunter. Reserve status now that he's teaching. Was a real wild card back in the day. I showed him the ropes when he was a rookie. He doesn't play by the rules, but he gets results."
Luka stopped before a heavy oak door with a small brass plaque: "Authorized Personnel Only." He pushed it open without knocking.
