Alaric rose from his seat, a wide smile plastered on his face. "Welcome, welcome, Young Master Kent Hall! It is an honor to have you here. We are prepared to offer you the finest treasures and the most prestigious titles. Please, make yourself at home."
Kent's eyes swept the room, but he paid little attention to Alaric's words. Instead, his gaze fell upon a single figure—the head of the Ron family, John Ron. He stood at the far end of the hall, his expression one of uncertainty.
Ignoring the flurry of pleasing words, Kent walked straight toward John Ron, his golden eyes gleaming with determination.
"Are You John Ron?" Kent asked with a serious look.
The late middle aged man with humble posture and wrinkled face nodded his head hurriedly.
"I have a request," Kent said, his voice calm but commanding.
John Ron's heart skipped a beat. "O-Of course, anything you wish, Young Master."
