After all his clothes were tailored, fitted, critiqued, insulted, upgraded, and finally packed away under my strict supervision, it was time to leave for Apex.
"Young master," one of the butlers entered the living room and bowed. "The pilot is waiting for you."
I nodded before gesturing for the other servants to load our luggage — hundreds upon hundreds of trunks, cases, and bags — onto the private jet.
Michael glanced at the mountain of gear, then at me. "H-Have we packed too much?"
I frowned as we started following the servants toward the courtyard. "No? This much is fine."
He didn't look convinced. "I… I don't even know if everything you've given me will fit into my room."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh my god, Michael, please move out of that tiny dumpster of a dorm room. Just get a bigger apartment like mine."
Michael shot me a deadpan stare. "Wait, you're saying if I'm poor, I should just get rich? Wow. Why didn't I think of that!?"
