Resurrecting the Genius Within

Chapter 445 Brat

Flushent

Before Isabelle could reply, the little boy sensed a shift and turned to find George’s solemn face.

Fear and confusion instantly gripped the boy.

George, usually gentle and refined, spoke with a touch of spite, “You’ll never be richer than me.”

He articulated each word in Egnaric, his tone sharp.

The boy remained silent, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Glancing at Isabelle on the bed, she seemed on the verge of laughter but restrained. herself.

In hindsight, George realized his pettiness was uncalled for.

Despite this, the trio continued to live harmoniously in the small house, their possessions gradually increasing over time.

The boy was naive and, thanks to that, bold. He expressed his love for Isabelle even though George was around.

Each day, he made a lengthy trek to procure Isabelle’s favorite chocolate biscuits and fresh mineral water. Then, come bedtime, he entertained her with rambling tales.

That night, George advised him to turn in early.

Realizing he’d been chatty and likely annoyed George, the boy sat up, his view only the undersides of the beds.

“Sorry,” he said. “As a kid, I’d gab away with my folks before bed, always sleeping between them.”

Turning to Isabelle, he commented, “Things would be simpler if you were a bit older.”

Isabelle quipped back, “You want to call me Mom or something?”

Tha hou managed

smil. “I’m off ta had

Firstrand

to leave, his friend showed up, eager

guys later,” the boy

“I need to get them some food, or

for you,”

the sky

garbage dump all day with his friends,

cookies in

sharing the cookies with Isabelle later, a sense of satisfaction warming his

with someone, causing him to stagger backward. and plop onto the

the dropped chocolate cookies,

he looked up, he found himself face to face with an Ardon man dressed entirely in black.

man’s eyes zeroed in on the chocolate cookies

distance, there was affluence, but beneath

slum was engulfed in the long night. Despite the crowded streets, only a few lights dotted the area, signaling that most had

narrow, dilapidated alleys were littered with debris, and the fetid stench of urine and

in his mismatched shoes, the boy made his way past each dwelling, clutching the two chocolate cookies he

2/4

* Finish &

his shoes slipped off, forcing him

to lose this

his small foot, and retrieved the

squeezed his chocolate cookie tighter, feeling a

on, he dragged his shoe along the

long shadow of

enveloping him as he moved

journey, he didn’t run into a single

shadow doggedly stayed to his right…