Now that Grayson was fast asleep, the stairs beckoned like an invitation.

Just a quick look, Neville reasoned. I’m still inside the penthouse. It’s not like I’m trying to escape.

The memory of Grayson’s cold eyes when he had caught Neville attempting to override the door locks sent a small shiver down his spine. He had already learned his lesson about the doors.

The entire penthouse was in lockdown: meaning, no one in, no one out, all by Grayson’s personal order.

When Neville had protested, pointing out that someone might walk in and see them in the living room, Grayson had simply raised an eyebrow.

"No one has clearance except me," he said, as if that settled everything.

"But what if there’s an emergency? What if the building catches fire? What if—"

Grayson had silenced his objections in the most direct way possible, and by the time Neville’s brain came back online, they were somehow in the bedroom again.

The man was insufferable.

The apparently very tired Neville climbed the stairs to the second floor. The walls along the staircase were bare but elegantly designed, offering no hints about what lay beyond.

The second floor opened onto a tricky corridor lined with doors. Neville counted five—three on the left, two on the right—all closed, all identical.

He tried the first one on his left.

It was a guest bedroom, tastefully furnished but clearly unused. The bed was made like new, and the surfaces were dust-free thanks to automated cleaning drones.

He closed the door and moved on.

The second room was similar.

So was the third. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Who needs three identical guest bedrooms?

The fourth door revealed a home office, sleek and minimalist, with a massive desk at the center. Holographic displays floated in sleep mode, and the shelves held nothing but a few decorative items that looked expensive and utterly impersonal.

Neville was starting to wonder if the entire second floor was just... empty.

It was a waste of space for a man who clearly lived his entire life on the first floor and didn’t seem to like entertaining guests.

Then he opened the fifth door.

He gasped sharply.

The room beyond was three stories tall, connected by large curved staircases that connected between levels. It wasn’t just a room—it was considered a library at this point.

The walls were lined from floor to distant ceiling with books. Not digital archives or holographic texts, but actual physical books bound in leather-like material, cloth, and other materials Neville couldn’t identify.

He stepped inside, mouth slightly agape.

Hardcover books were one of the rarest things in this era. Paper was an old medium, preserved only by collectors and historical institutions.

But these weren’t museum pieces locked behind glass; they were arranged on shelves. Their spines were worn and used, their presence speaking to a collection that was meant to be read.

Neville went down to the first floor of the library with towering shelves. He traced his fingers along the spines as he walked, reading titles in languages he didn’t recognize alongside classics that he encountered once in the black hell hole.

There were texts on military strategy, philosophy, engineering, and art. Novels, both ancient and modern. Poetry collections, scientific treatises, and what appeared to be handwritten journals from centuries past.

Then, Neville climbed back to the second level of the library. Here, the shelves gave way along one wall to a series of clear display cases. His steps faltered as he realized those shelves contained.

Mecha figurines.

Dozens of them—no, hundreds?—arranged with meticulous care behind climate-controlled glass. Some were miniature replicas no larger than his palm, while others stood nearly a meter tall, their details so accurate that they looked like they could be used as kids’ mecha to operate.

Neville moved closer; his heart was beating faster in excitement.

He recognized some of them from Mecha Warfare Online, the combat simulation game. There was the Vanguard-class assault mecha, the Specter-series stealth unit, and even a limited-edition Phoenix Immortal that had only been released to the top hundred players on the leaderboard.

Where did he even get these?

Further along, the figurines changed from game replicas to mechas he had only seen in news broadcasts and military reports.

The Black Dragon, Grayson’s personal unit from his days as a general. The Crimson Hawk, which had once belonged to a famous pilot. Imperial Guard mechas in full ceremonial livery.

Some of them weren’t even figurines at all. They were models with detailed reconstructions of actual military hardware completed with actual joints and miniaturized weapons systems.

The military historian must be weeping with joy.

He was so absorbed in examining a particularly intricate model of a carrier-class warship that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him.

"Do you like it?"

Neville’s heart nearly escaped from his chest.

He turned around to find Grayson standing at the entrance to the display section, dressed in nothing but loose pants that hung dangerously low on his hips. His eyes were fixed on Neville with an unreadable gaze.

How long has he been watching me?

"You—" Neville’s voice came out higher than intended. He quickly cleared his throat to return it to normal. "You startled me."

"Well," Grayson’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

Neville glanced back at the display cases, buying himself a moment to calm his heart down. "These? It’s... impressive. I didn’t know you had this many."

"There’s a lot about me you don’t know yet."

But the system clearly had most of your information, so I probably just forgot about this stuff.

"This room," Neville said, gesturing at the towering library around them. "It’s incredible. I’ve never seen so many physical books in one place."

Grayson moved closer, his bare feet silent on the polished floor. "My father started the collection. I’ve... added some of it, over the years."

There was a soft tone in his voice when he said that. He was probably recalling a beautiful memory. It was a rare sight of Grayson mentioning his deceased father.

Neville turned back to the mechas to not be swept away by the melancholic atmosphere. "These models are amazing. Some of these units—I’ve only ever seen them in the simulation games."

"You play Mecha Warfare Online?"