Noah's grip on Patrick's hand tightened slightly as the memory ended, his gaze sharp as he locked eyes with the old man.
"So this is what you're hiding," Noah thought, his mind piecing it all together.
The building wasn't just old—it had deeper problems, ones that Patrick had failed to fix time and time again.
Patrick, oblivious to Noah's discovery, released his hand and gestured toward the room.
"Well, feel free to have a look around," he said cheerfully. "It's a charming little place, and with a bit of love, it could be the perfect teahouse."
David glanced at Noah, his expression hopeful. "What do you think, son? It's got character, doesn't it?"
Noah smiled faintly, masking his thoughts. "It does," he said, stepping forward and walking around the small space, noting every crack, every place where the problems were hidden.
