Although the level of comfort was questionable, the outfit was unexpectedly warm—even in the dead of winter, it caused sweat to bead on his back.
Guided by the attendant, he arrived at the luxurious suite on the sixth floor of the hotel and finally saw the gentleman who had introduced him to this strange world again.
At this mont, the gentleman was sitting quietly at a triangular round wooden table, engrossed in a book. The cloaked, mysterious guard was still standing close by, never leaving his side, like a shadow.
Punk glanced around quietly, surprised to find that the furniture had all been moved out.
Apart from the immovable fireplace and floor, the room had only a walnut table and chairs, so stark it felt barely livable.
Ti ticked away, but the lord said nothing, seemingly determined to train him in the art of silence.
Just as Punk was about to lose his patience, the esteed Mr. Colin finally spoke.
"Do you have a wife or children?"
Punk froze for a mont before instinctively replying.
"No, sir, I—"
"You only need to answer the question I'm asking," Luo Yan cut him off, his commanding tone unwavering. "Since you don't, you'll stay here from today onward."
"Sir, I… I can't afford to stay in such an expensive hotel…" Punk's face was filled with panic.
He had actually wanted to say that instead of letting him sleep here, they could simply give him the money to cover the room charges—he'd be fine sleeping on the snow-covered ground outside!
"It's my hotel," Luo Yan said casually, flipping a page of the book in his hand without a second thought. "I've already bought it. Also, unless I ask for your opinion, simply answer yes or no."
Punk's eyes widened in shock, rendered speechless for so ti. Only when the attendant beside him tugged his arm did Punk snap out of his daze.
"Yes..."
Luo Yan nodded in approval.
"Good."
Punk exhaled in relief, though a trace of delight snuck into his heart. Apparently, serving an important figure wasn't as hard as he'd feared.
By comparison, his previous employer had been far more demanding—and not only demanding, but he frequently docked Punk's wages.
A wild thought even crept into Punk's mind: if he could serve this distinguished gentleman forever, wouldn't that be wonderful?
Of course, he understood that such a dream depended entirely on his performance.
"Mr. Colin wishes to rest now. I'll take you to your room," said the attendant standing at the door, slipping in an exaggerated tone as he made sure not to miss a single chance to curry favor with the gentleman.
"Alright," Punk imdiately nodded and obediently followed him downstairs.
Though the esteed Mr. Colin had said he could freely stay wherever he chose, Punk naturally wouldn't risk offending anyone by picking one of the expensive rooms. He quickly asked the attendant beside him to find him a place where the staff stayed—it would be enough.
However, the attendant completely ignored his suggestion and didn't actually lead him to the servant quarters, instead taking him to a guest room off to the side on the first floor.
The location wouldn't disturb other guests, nor compromise the dignity befitting the situation.
Though Mr. Colin hadn't given explicit instructions on where exactly to take the man, the attendant prided himself on his ability to read his boss's intentions and ensure tasks were carried out impeccably.
In addition to arranging accommodations, Mr. Colin had earlier instructed him to teach this coachman the etiquette of high society as quickly as possible.
Though he had no idea what Mr. Colin was planning, any order from the gentleman would be carried out without fail.
He was confident that, under his guidance, even a stubborn mule could learn proper posture for shaking hands and how to suppress any belches during als.
To gain Mr. Colin's admiration, he was willing to do anything!
Feeling the imposing aura emanating from the attendant beside him, Punk nervously shrank back, sensing he'd been pulled into sothing far beyond his understanding.
Still, it didn't seem to co at any loss to him—or so he thought?
At that mont, he noticed hotel staff carrying large mattresses and bedding outside, throwing them onto the snow without hesitation.
Staring at this scene in shock, Punk instinctively blurted out.
"What's going on?!"
The attendant glanced dismissively at the clueless man.
"Mr. Colin doesn't use items that others have used. He demands that every item in his rooms be brand new."
Punk swallowed hard and murmured tentatively.
"That mattress… must be pretty expensive?"
Mattress?
Not just the mattress!
The attendant chuckled amusedly and said.
"Every mattress in the Embrace of Dawn's luxury suites is made of velvet, exactly like those in Campbell Palace."
Hearing this, Punk's eyes turned red with envy—he was overco by an urge to dash outside, load the discarded goods onto his carriage, and bring them back to his humble abode.
Such wastefulness!
However, the attendant nearby had no intention of indulging his absurdity, forcibly yanking him away from the hallway window.
What a pathetic, hopeless fool!
Standing next to a veritable goldmine, yet fixating on a single mattress!
Failing to seize opportunity when it knocked—you deserved this miserable fate as a pauper!
Though he himself was just another penniless wretch, he firmly believed that his cleverness would allow him to capture this chance and win Mr. Colin's favor, ascending to unimaginable heights!
He wasn't alone in these thoughts—every single person in the hotel shared the sa ambition, including the kitchen staff doing nial tasks who wished they could have their mont to shine.
Under Mr. Colin's attentive gaze, they nearly fought with each other over who should "throw the trash out," to the point where even the other hotel guests noticed the commotion.
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