As the nurse pressed the needle into his vein, Alistair turned to Grandpa Starveil with a puzzled frown. "Did the Director Megan really rush over just to greet you?"
Starveil shook his head, his voice carrying a shadow of melancholy. "That wasn't for me. That greeting was meant for *you*."
"*Me?*" Alis blinked, baffled. He'd barely exchanged two words with the director—how could this be about him?
"You wouldn't know," Starveil sighed, his tone softening with nostalgia. "Without your grandfather and father, Megan wouldn't be sitting in that director's chair today. He was a dirt-poor mountain kid until your family's scholarship threw him a lifeline."
A pause. The old man's gaze drifted through memories. "After your grandfather passed, your father went all out—paid his university fees, ho
