Presley gave Dane a quick once-over before settling back into his chair, his expression calm and collected. "What''s up? Why did you want to see me?" he asked, casually.


    "Nothing major, just brewed up a new batch of medicine and thought you might want to take a look," Dane replied, bending down to gather the shattered pieces of a coffee cup from the floor.


    Presley wasn''t really in the mood, but watching Dane''s careful cleanup, he managed to keep his impatience in check. "Maybe another time."


    Dane nodded and tossed the broken pieces into a nearby trash bin. "I just bumped into Devon and the others outside," he mentioned.


    At the sound of Devon''s name, a flicker of annoyance passed over Presley''s face. "People who don''t know their ce," he muttered with a scoff.


    "What''s his deal?" Dane asked, pretending to be puzzled.


    Presley rubbed his temples, silent for a moment. Dane stood there, unsure if he should break the silence.


    Finally, Presley dropped his hand, focusing on Dane. "Oh yeah, didn''t you say Mirabe and your dad are pretty close?"


    Dane was caught off guard by the question but nodded. "Yeah, they''re on good terms, I guess."


    Presley''s eyes narrowed as he continued, "So, do you think she''d hand over the recipe for that ancient medicine if your dad asked?"


    Dane was taken aback, his eyes widening. "Wait, the vice president wants the ancient medicine recipe?"


    Presley didn''t bother to hide his intent, looking at Dane directly. "Just tell me, can you get it?"


    Meanwhile, Mirabe and Devon headed downstairs. Grant was waiting in the lobby and approached them as they stepped out of the elevator.


    Looking a bit guilty, Grant avoided Mirabe''s eyes, speaking softly, "Ms. Mirabe, I hope Presley didn''t give you too much trouble?"


    Mirabe shot him a cool nce but didn''t respond. Devon, however, chimed in, "Grant, I thought you had prin@ples. Didn''t expect you''d end up doing Presley''s dirty work."


    The night before, Grant had checked in on David, and Devon had thanked him,


    hoping not everyone was in Presley''s pocket. But reality had hit hard.


    Grant gave a bitter chuckle and


    shook his head, offering no exnation. He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Devon. "Please pass this medicine to the president."


    Apologizing to Mirabe with a nod, he turned and left.


    Devon, holding the medicine bottle, frowned. Opening it to inspect the contents,


    he felt a swirl ofplicated emotions.


    He''d overheard Grant''s conversation


    with his teacher the night before and hadn''t expected Grant to bring


    Mirabe to the association to (4)


    Even though Grant had texted him, the situation had shifted. A wrong was a wrong, and trying to fix it afterward couldn''t erase the scar.


    Mirabe''s eyes fell on the bottle in Devon''s hand. "What happened to David? Where is he now?" she asked.


    Her question brought Devon back to the moment. He looked at her, "My master''s resting at home."


    Recalling Presley''s attitude earlier, Mirabe pressed, "Has something been going on at the associationtely?"