Chaos Girl Rewrites the Script novel Chapter 196

"Mister, my grandpa was worried you were a bad guy. You better explain yourself to him, otherwise you might be in a lot of trouble."

The Technician had never been so speechless in his life. He tilted his head slightly, locking eyes with the elderly man on the screen.

That single glance made his blood run cold.

There was not a trace of grandfatherly warmth left on Caspian's face. The old man's somber gaze burned with a dark, predatory fire. He just sat there in silence, but the unspoken threat was deafening.

The Technician's scalp prickled. For a split second, he felt entirely cornered.

"Mister? Are you done checking?"

The Technician swallowed hard, forcing a stiff smile. "Y-Yeah. Just about."

Caspian rested both hands on his cane, sitting straight against his rosewood chair. "If you're done, then leave. This studio belongs to my granddaughter now. If you break anything else, you won't be able to afford the consequences."

A lethal edge flashed in the assassin's eyes.

The old man already suspected something. He might as well—

"Hey! What happened to the glass here?"

An overly exaggerated voice boomed from the hallway.

A moment later, a balding man in a formal tunic suit marched into the classroom.

The man's gaze darted between the Technician and Vivienne before settling on the assassin with furious indignation.

"What is wrong with you? We hired you to inspect the wires, not smash the windows! I told you to be careful! You're lucky it was just a pane of glass. If you damaged anything valuable, selling your organs wouldn't cover the cost!"

The newcomer was none other than the middle school's head of discipline, Director Houghton.

The Technician slowly released his grip on his weapon and took a step back.

What was there to paint? Houghton wondered. Why was this kid being so stubborn?

He didn't dare show his annoyance. He beamed at Vivienne. "Miss Lexton, your grandfather has already made the arrangements, so why don't we—"

"Shut up. I'm talking to my grandpa." Vivienne covered the microphone, her face dropping into a vicious scowl as she glared at Houghton.

Houghton froze, his mouth hanging open as he struggled to process the sudden shift.

"Grandpa," Vivienne whined, flipping back to her innocent persona in a heartbeat. "Please? I'm tired of painting the landscapes at home. I want to practice on the plaster casts here."

Caspian fell silent for a moment before finally speaking. "Mr. Houghton."

"Yes, sir!" Houghton stood at attention. "Whatever you need."

Caspian's voice was flat. "You heard her. My granddaughter wants to paint."