The study room was still in silence, illuminated only by the soft glow of a crystal chandelier.
Billy sat across from Arthur, enveloped in the rich aroma of aged wood and fine leather that filled the grand space.
Behind Arthur, towering glass windows offered a breathtaking view of Neo-Luminara, a city where gleaming skyscrapers stood alongside shadowy alleyways, stark reminders of human ambition's highs and lows.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of red wine with an effortless grace. His expression was inscrutable; eyes half-lidded yet intensely focused on Billy.
"Now," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel, "tell me this: now that you've truly lived in the real world, what's the difference between being an ordinary person, someone without power, money, or connections and being an Osborn?"
Billy felt the weight of the question settle heavily on his shoulders.
