Cody knew he was going to die. It wasn't some vague premonition—it was as if he'd gained the ability to foresee the future.
He knew with perfect clarity: when the clock struck exactly seven in the evening,
he would die.
His thoughts suddenly peeled away from the butler's report on Nett, and his right hand instinctively gripped his cane.
The lion's head wrought of gold crowned the top of the cane, not at all suited for a tight grasp.
Every time he clenched his cane, he could always feel a trace of discomfort.
That small discomfort constantly reminded him,
in this world there are some things you simply can't bend to your will; to be human is to think more, reflect more.
The discomfort in his palm pulled him back from that sense of impending death, and he spoke: "Call the lawyer to me."
"Yes, sir."
The old butler bowed, asked no questions, simply carried out his master's every command with unwavering loyalty before taking his leave.
