Translator: Inschain     Editor: Inschain
Elizabeth nodded, saying with conviction, âYou punished those wrongdoers for me, so weâre friends.â
Her gaze settled on Alexander.
The man was dressed in a black shirt, the top two buttons undone, looking both restrained and regalâhis good looks seemed almost otherworldly. It was hard to imagine someone like him going out of his way to help others.
âSo, just because I helped you, weâre friends? Seems like a pretty low bar to be your friend,â he remarked.
Alexander laughed, teasing her, âIt was Emily who couldnât stand seeing them bully you and asked me to step in. I did it for my own sister; donât overthink it.â
Of course, what truly transpired was known only to the parties involved. Elizabeth paused momentarily, her fleeting joy fading, returning to her indifferent demeanor.
She responded nonchalantly, âSo, thatâs it.â
So, Emily was her friend. No need to be on good terms with Alexander, then.
Elizabeth nodded to herself, thinking, yes, thatâs how it should be.
Alexander watched her shift from enthusiastic warmth to detached coolness, a twitch forming at the corner of his mouth.
The stark contrast in her attitude gave him the peculiar feeling that heâd shot himself in the foot.
âRegardless, you did help me. Even if I might not have needed it, I owe you one.
What would you like in return?â
Elizabeth looked at him, her gaze demanding.
If Peter were present, he would probably drop his jaw. This was a promise from Professor Lawrence! Something many would kill for.
He should jump at the opportunity.
But Alexander simply said, âYou should focus on your studies for now and aim to earn well in the future.â
âDonât worry; I have money,â Elizabeth frowned.
âWith the little money you have, you canât even afford my socks,â Alexander said, assuming it was just an allowance from the Wilson family.
Elizabeth was speechless.
Alexander looked at her with a casual glance, saying nonchalantly, âEven if it were someone else, Iâd have intervened. After all, I am a man of justice.â
Elizabeth was skeptical of Alexanderâs words. She stubbornly stated, âLet me know what you want when you decide. My offer stands.â
Alexander found himself speechless at the little girlâs obstinacy.
âWhat I want, I usually get. If I canât have it, you probably canât offer it either.â
Elizabeth furrowed her brows, pondering for a moment before suggesting,
âHow about I cook a meal for you?â
A meal personally prepared by Professor Lawrence was something many yearned for.
âCooking a disaster meal, are you?â Alexander declined without hesitation.
Elizabeth hesitated, pondering whether to point out that he was the actual disaster chef.
âAlright, let me know if you ever come up with something,â she conceded.
Alexander looked down at Elizabethâs raven-black, fluffy hair, and into the bright eyes that were currently fixed on him.
Feeling an itch in his hand, he raised it, naturally ruffling her hair.
It was soft, like a catâs fur.
Elizabethâs eyes widened in surprise. After a brief pause, she requested, âRuffle it again.â
Alexander raised an eyebrow, but at her urging, he tousled her hair again. Such a little girl, he thought.
âMy Grandpa used to ruffle my hair with the same force as you,â she reminisced.
She lifted her face, a faint smile in her dark eyes, making a surprising statement, âYou remind me of my Grandpa.â
Alexander froze for a moment. After a pause, he said coolly, âSweetheart, be good.â
Elizabeth stayed silent for a beat, then asked him with genuine confusion, âOh, so you donât want to be my friend; you want to be my Grandpa?â