Chapter 7: The Duke and the Bastard.
With a ding, the lift door slid open.
I walked out without a word. Stella followed me.
A long hallway stretched out before me, lined with antiques and old portraits.
A painting caught my eye—a small boy with torn clothes standing next to a man wearing luxurious clothes, who looked way too pleased with himself.
Rich people and their weird kinks with useless stuff.
I sighed.
Honestly, I didn’t really understand that.
Back in my previous life, I once got dragged into an art exhibition.
As a chief guest, no less.
The organiser asked me to draw something.
And how can I deny it as a proper chief guest, right?
So I showed them my impeccable talent by drawing a donkey. Well, at least something similar to chasing a carrot.