PK smiled lightly, unbothered by the overwhelming surroundings.
"I really did have class," he said calmly. "Otherwise, I would've come earlier."
Silas Blackwell chuckled, the sound low and steady, carrying the ease of a man who had long stopped worrying about time.
"My name is Silas Blackwell," he said. "Eldest of the Blackwell family."
PK inclined his head slightly, neither too humble nor arrogant.
"Hello, Grandpa Silas. I'm PK. Currently studying Computer Science at AN University."
He kept it short. Clean. No unnecessary embellishment.
Silas nodded once, clearly satisfied.
Around them, the other three old men did not even spare PK a glance. Their attention remained on the chessboard, fingers moving pieces with practiced ease as they continued discussing matters that sounded far heavier than a simple game.
It was deliberate.
A silent message.
PK noticed—and ignored it.
For the first time, he truly observed Silas Blackwell.
The old man sat relaxed, yet his presence was overwhelming. His back was straight, his eyes sharp, his breathing steady. There was no frailty in him—only the restrained aura of someone who had once stood at the very peak and still had the strength to shake the ground if he wished.
Silas glanced at PK again, briefly, then nodded with a faint smile.
"It's good to be young," he said. "Youth carries possibilities old bones no longer can."
PK didn't respond to that. He simply reached forward and placed the gift box Eve had carefully wrapped onto the stone table.
"I prepared a few things for you," PK said evenly.
"I hope you don't mind."
The chess pieces paused.
One of the old men finally looked up.
His gaze swept over the modestly wrapped box, then moved to PK with open disdain.
"Hmph," the man scoffed. "Garbage."
Another old man snorted, not even bothering to hide his contempt.
"A kid from a university brings gifts to Silas Blackwell? Do you think this is some countryside visit?"
The third shook his head slowly.
"Young people these days," he muttered. "They don't know the weight of names."
Their eyes carried ridicule—sharp, dismissive, superior.
PK remained expressionless.
Silas, however, did not react immediately.
He looked at the box.
Not with disdain.
Not with curiosity.
But with interest.
The garden fell quiet.
Silas slowly reached out and placed his hand on the gift.
For a brief moment, the other old men froze—sensing something they couldn't quite explain.
Silas smiled faintly.
"Well," he said calmly,
"let's first see what this 'garbage' is… before deciding its value."
His fingers moved to open the box.
And without realizing it, the men around the table had already leaned forward—just a little.