116. Folklorist (Hurry to subscribe, I can't afford afternoon tea anymore)

"Mr. Hewitt, did you not bring any luggage?"

The elderly man sitting behind the office desk had white hair at his temples and slightly adjusted his silver-framed glasses.

Hewitt sat in the chair opposite him:

"Mr. Anthony, I prefer to keep things simple."

Anthony glanced at Hela, who was sitting quietly beside him, and gave a moderately stern smile:

"I wasn't informed you'd be bringing family. Next time, please notify me in advance. After all, the reason I chose to work at a university is that I don't like children."

Because of his habitually stern facial expressions, Hewitt couldn't tell if Anthony was joking or being serious.

Anthony looked at the paper documents in his hand:

"Mr. Hewitt, your age doesn't seem to align with my expectations."

Hewitt had grown a beard on his walk from the train station to the university, and his hair had turned black, making him appear to be in his thirties.