All the netizens broke out in a heated debate.
Meanwhile, Lucas and Ashlyn flew back to Maredania.
It didn't matter how lively it was at Lake City with all the rowdy voices or how Lake City Daily praised Lucas to the skies on TikTok and Twitter for piloting a plane and saving lives.
Right that moment, they were sitting at a small round table under the vines, drinking coffee with Ian.
Ian quirked an eyebrow. “So, it seems that Imperial Hotel is your property, Ashlyn? I never knew that you were so capable.”
The wound on Ashlyn's forehead had healed considerably, and new flesh had grown. She calmly took a sip of the coffee in her hand. “It's just a hotel.”
“How modest of you, Ashlyn.” Ian chuckled, turning his gaze to Lucas. “You're impressive, too. You can even pilot a plane, and quite well at that.”
“It turns out that you're actually too free today and are especially teasing us? I've still got something else to do, so please excuse me.” Ashlyn put the coffee in her hand down.
Ian stared at her back. “Come in. I'll continue treating you, but you're not to simply leave again next time.”
Lucas said nothing. He merely placed his coffee down and followed the man into the house.
At the gates of the Jaquin residence in Lake City, a young man with injuries littering his body knelt under the scorching sun.
A layer of sweat blanketed his face, but his eyes radiated an innate sense of obstinacy.
On the day when a fire broke out at Imperial Hotel, Tinsor was stuffed into a burlap sack and left at the gates of the mansion in the middle of the night.
He had been kneeling there for a whole day and night.
Winsor stood by the window on the second floor of the mansion.
His butler walked over and looked out the window at the young man kneeling at the gates with worry written all over his face. He anxiously cautioned, “Mr. Winsor, if Mr. Tinsor were to continue kneeling, his legs would end up impaired!”
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