"You'll see it more and more as you climb higher. The real world doesn't run on fairness or truth—it runs on leverage. Power. Influence. The ones who smile for the cameras and make speeches about justice? They're often the same ones trading favors in the shadows."
Rex didn't reply immediately.
He simply stared at his uncle, his fingers loosely clasped in front of him, brows furrowed just slightly—not in resistance, but in contemplation. The words weren't new. He'd heard them before, in different ways, from different mouths, even , lived them, in ways most people couldn't imagine. After all, this wasn't his first life.
Even so, in the end, in that past life, he had remained nothing more than a speck at the bottom of the rung. Just another expendable cog in the machine. The kind of person who could only glimpse truth from scattered fragments—office gossip, half-verified rumors, vague articles no one else cared to question.
But Uncle John?
