Chapter 239 Precious Disciple

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He deliberately teased, “And you’re not the only one who have sought me out. There are plenty of others begging for this…

Freya, her mind focused on securing a favor from Emyr, clenched her teeth and snapped, “Fine. Just send me Master Field’s address.”

After arriving at the retirement home behind Beacon Hospital, Freya was subjected to several layers of identity checks before finally knocking on the door of a small courtyard.

A middle–aged woman greeted her and led her inside, giving detailed instructions along the way. “The clothes haven’t been washed yet. Master Field doesn’t like the smell of detergent, so you’ll need to wash everything by hand with soap nuts. Lunch will be delivered by a hotel; your job is to arrange it. Master Field doesn’t like to be disturbed, so after you finish these tasks, you’ll rest in the servant’s quarters. Don’t wander

around.”

Freya’s expression shifted when she heard the last part. “What if I need to speak to him?”

The woman handed her a notepad. “If you need to tell him something, just write it down and leave it on the table in the living room. He will respond when he sees it. But be careful not to violate his rules, or he won’t be pleased.”

Freya took the notepad and muttered, “Got it.”

She hadn’t expected so many demands from an elderly man. But given Basil’s stature, she swallowed her irritation and carried on.

Once the woman left, Freya’s gaze wandered to the attic, where the sound of old soap dramas floated down, though she could see no one.

Intrigued, she considered going upstairs for a closer look. Just then, a voice boomed from above. “Make me a pot of tea.”

lit up with

on her side. Quickly, she prepared a pot of tea

and the sound of the

sat a rocking chair. Basil lounged in it, legs crossed, enjoying the sun, completely at ease. A folding fan hid his

Field, the

voice, muffled behind the fan, responded, “My stomach’s

tea.”

“Sorry, I’ll go make something

returned, Basil still hadn’t moved. “I’ve been craving some

took a deep breath. “I’ll make it

do… ..rramal

of heath form the whowical affect

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Tue, 4

239 Precious

is

didn’t say

in, only to hear soft, rhythmic breathing

had fallen asleep!

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darkened. If it weren’t for the warnings she’d received about his strange

didn’t dare to wake him. With a frustrated sigh, she set the tea down and went downstairs to start

of his

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