The group entered Jay's home, except for the two guards who were cleaning up the thugs, and Robert, who stayed behind to study Gared's dead body.
Jay's home was small, cramped, and worn down by years of hard living, yet it was still far better than the alleys outside.
The wooden door creaked when they entered, and the room inside was barely large enough to fit a table, a few mismatched chairs, and a narrow bed pushed against the wall.
The plaster in several places had cracked, exposing the rough timber beneath, while a faint smell of damp wood and old smoke lingered in the air.
A single mana lamp hung from the ceiling, its light dim but steady, giving the room just enough warmth to feel lived in rather than abandoned.
It was humble in every sense, but unlike the street outside, it still felt like a place someone could call home.
Jay quickly walked to the kitchen, but before he went, he said, "Please sit wherever you like. I will bring out some refreshments."
