An old man with a small stature looked at Desther with a smile as he extended his hands toward him.
"The name's Arisol, by the way."
Desther observed the man right beside him.
The man has a stocky build but with a small height, reaching only Desther's chest. He has a full beard and long brown hair that is tied right behind his nape. Wearing a black and white tuxedo suit, the man that called himself Arisol looked like a burly businessman searching for his next confidant.
Desther did not extend his hand right away.
This man had appeared right beside him without him realizing. He may also look small and old; Desther actually felt threatened just by standing right beside him.
Desther had never doubted his senses.
If it told him that a thing was dangerous, then it probably was, without a doubt, a dangerous thing.
Seeing that the old man called Arisol seemed to pose no malice toward him, Desther reluctantly extended his hand for a handshake.
