All the more so, what he said was simply impossible to ignore.

He doesn’t plan to take on any interns? What a coincidence, neither do I. In fact, you could hand me off to any lawyer—anyone but you, anywhere is fine.

William Carter polished this thought a bit, turned it into a less provocative expression, and was just about to say it when he saw James Bennett lightly turn his coffee cup with his fingers and say, “So before this, I didn’t make any preparations for your arrival. I heard there’s an experience manual at the firm that details how to assign tasks to interns—enough to keep you busy without causing trouble. I’ve never looked at it. So, I can’t guarantee you’ll have a normal internship.”

William Carter raised his eyebrows. It was rare to hear Classmate Bennett say so much outside of court, and, surprisingly, it all sounded like normal human speech.

Of course, it was only “human speech”—far from pleasant, since the speaker’s face was expressionless and his tone still icy.

As for what the internship would actually entail, or how James Bennett planned to arrange things, William Carter wasn’t particularly interested. Compared to the content itself, he found James Bennett’s attempt at normal conversation more intriguing.

However...

You can speak civilly to an intern who was forced on you, but when it comes to your own carefully, thoughtfully, and solemnly chosen direct mentor, you can’t even manage a decent face?

William Carter sighed inwardly. But it didn’t matter—maybe with a new identity and a new environment, he’d get along better with this Classmate Bennett. At least, the start wasn’t bad.

But that thought didn’t last long, because suddenly his office light-brain spat out a pile of holographic files with a whoosh.

Senior Lawyer Bennett wasn’t the talkative type to begin with. That long speech just now was already the limit of his good-natured words, so after a few more sentences, he simply sent William Carter the intern manual that Fitz had prepared in advance.

“Take a look first,” James Bennett said. “I have a call to take.”

William Carter swiped through the holographic screen. Fortunately, the manual wasn’t as long as he’d feared—very little fluff, overall concise, and it really suited the mindset of young interns, even a bit lively. Definitely Fitz’s style.

He skimmed through the internship content and some firm regulations.

In fact, he didn’t read the whole manual carefully—after all, he wasn’t really a newcomer, and he wasn’t here for a real internship. He propped his head on his hand, idly flipping through the pages, until his gaze landed on a certain number.

Internship pay—60 Xis per day.

For a student, what does 60 Xis mean? It’s just enough for three meals a day, not a cent more. But that’s the norm for law firms in Demarca, since everyone assumes interns are basically just making trouble at first.

When a senior lawyer assigns tasks to an intern, it’s like bleeding from the heart. Because after you finish, there’s an eighty to ninety percent chance they’ll have to redo it, plus give you feedback—basically doubling their workload.

Some interns who are just coasting make the senior lawyers’ risk of overwork even higher.

You’re making a mess and endangering my life, and I’m not even charging you tuition—on top of that, I have to pay you? Dream on.

Interns are well aware of this, so they don’t really object to this token, symbolic pay—there’ll be raises in the future anyway.

When William Carter saw the pay, he clicked his tongue inwardly, sighing for these poor students.

Then he suddenly remembered that he himself was now one of those “poor students.” The sigh caught in his throat and he choked, coughing violently.

As he propped his head and tried to catch his breath, James Bennett’s voice suddenly sounded nearby—

“Specific time and place?”

“Yaba Island?”

“Not going.”

He was still on the call, but casually set a glass of water on the intern’s desk.

William Carter was startled. He looked up, wondering if Classmate Bennett was acting out of character—was he actually being considerate?

But then James Bennett tapped the desk with his finger, his gaze dropping, and said coolly, “I’m really curious what’s in that manual that made you blush so hard you almost passed out.”

“……”

Great—authentic, undiluted, and toxic as ever.

He wasn’t wearing an earpiece, so the voice on the other end of the call was audible, though very faint. As William Carter got closer, he barely caught a couple of sentences.

“What do you mean, ‘almost passed out’?” a man’s voice asked. “Who are you talking to?”

William Carter actually found the voice a bit familiar, but couldn’t place where he’d heard it before.

“Intern,” James Bennett replied.

“All right,” the man said. “So you’re really not coming? I’m inviting you so sincerely, and you won’t give me any face? Even my Gita came along.”

James Bennett’s expression instantly became even more deadpan.

Soon, William Carter understood the reason for his change in expression: “You’re surfing across planets and you even brought your water-phobic dog...”