He looked surprisingly young, no older than his early forties, and possessed a certain ethereal, sage-like quality.
Janina couldn't help but exclaim, "Sir, how old are you? Calling you 'grandpa' feels like it's making you sound too old."
The old man glanced down at his clothes with disdain and nonchalantly muttered three words: "Ninety-nine."
Everyone was speechless. "Fine, pretend we never asked."
The old man's eyes swept around the room, and he shook his head with a sigh.
"Why is your family so poor? The fabric of these clothes is terrible. I knew I shouldn't have come back with you."
He had assumed Janina was a wealthy heiress and that his accommodations and meals would be top-notch.
Reality, however, was a stark disappointment. The clothes on his back were proof enough that this family was dirt poor.
Janina was speechless.
How could a beggar have the audacity to say something like that?
Easton, just out of the shower himself, heard the old man's comment.
He didn't need a shower, but helping the old man had left him soaked.
He couldn't hold back his retort. "Sir, just a little while ago, you were being chased by a stall owner. You sleep on the streets and wear rags, and now you have the nerve to complain about us?"
Seated primly on the sofa, the old man shot Easton a glare.
"What do you know, you insolent boy? It is your family's honor to have me here."
Easton was speechless again.
"Easton, that's enough. Go to the kitchen, heat up the food, and let's get ready for dinner."
Though Ethan couldn't see the old man, he could sense that he was not entirely stable. There was no point in arguing with someone like that.
Hearing Ethan's voice, the old man finally noticed Ethan and Grace sitting in the corner.
He shot up from the sofa and walked over to Ethan.
He tilted his head and waved a hand in front of Ethan's eyes.


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