"Ah, that hit the spot!"
At the Black Elf Bar, Old Hart downed his mug of ale in one go with a series of gulps, his face a picture of utter satisfaction.
He had been mentoring Ronan for a month, and this was the first time he had received such "filial respect" from the latter.
It really hadn't been easy!
Ronan raised a hand to call over the barmaid and ordered Old Hart another drink.
Such "generous and forthright" behavior left Old Hart a little dazed. He asked in disbelief, "Little Ronan, do you need my help with something?"
"Let me make this clear first—if it's something small, I can lend a hand. But if it's a big matter, I can't handle it!"
Ronan smiled. "It's nothing. I just wanted to buy you a few drinks and thank you for looking after me during this time."
Old Hart had been a police officer for decades. Though he was slick as grease and fond of taking petty advantages,
this old officer had indeed looked after Ronan, a Reserve Officer, and taught him plenty of useful experience.
Of course, expecting him to take a bullet for Ronan was utterly unrealistic.
The reverse was more likely.
Old Hart laughed heartily. "You brat really have gotten smarter. Now that you've suffered a loss, you know Old Hart was right, huh?"
Taking the opportunity, Ronan asked, "Sir, do you know which gang that thief from yesterday belonged to?"
Rand City's Upper City was the main residential area for nobles, officials, and wealthy merchants. Both its environment and public security were excellent.
The Lower City and Port District, on the other hand, were a tangled mix of all sorts, with gangs great and small entrenched everywhere.
Ronan had only been at the Third Precinct for a