Zachary almost cursed. "Did he bail?"
However, he had just whipped out his phone when he saw Barzel, who had already changed into the clothes Zachary brought.
Barzel's hair was now clean, revealing its original dark blond hue. It was quite long and covered his ears.
His cheeks were fair and speckled, and his bangs dangled over his brows in front of his cobalt-blue eyes.
He was carrying a plate of food and watching Zachary as he said, "Sorry. I was hungry."
He left to find food when he stepped out of the bathroom and found no one around.
Since it was complimentary, he brought some back to his room.
As Zachary lowered his phone, Barzel asked, "Would you like some?"
Zachary shook his head and settled on the couch, while Barzel put the plate on the table and continued eating.
"What's your name?" Zachary asked.
"Barzel," Barzel replied while keeping his head lowered and continued stuffing his mouth full of food. "Just ask me if you have any questions."
Zachary was quite surprised that he was being so candid despite his youth.
Then, before Zachary said anything, Barzel added, "I mean, I found you at your own house, but you brought me here instead of letting me in. It's obvious you don't trust me—but that's fine, because I don't trust you either."
Zachary stared blankly at him for a moment and asked, "You don't trust me, but you still came looking for me?"
Barzel paused for a moment, but he soon quietly returned to his food.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" Zachary asked.
"My parents are dead. I have nowhere else to go," Barzel said quietly.
Zachary rubbed his nose—he should not have asked.
Still, Barzel kept his head lowered as he said, "I don't mind."
Zachary was speechless for a moment and told Barzel, "You can stay here from now on."
As Barzel nodded, Zachary got up to his feet, but the boy stopped him before he left. "What's your name, sir?"
"Zachary Slate."
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