This Little Goblin!

The setting sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm, gentle orange glow across the room. It felt as though the Sun God Apollo himself was lovingly polishing his golden chariot.

Damien sat at the piano, bathed in the amber light, focused, composed, and elegant qualities that could effortlessly capture anyone's attention. Even Elara found herself entranced, silently watching him for what felt like forever.

The atmosphere between them was soft and serene. Aunt Zhang quietly stepped aside, whispering to Jack who had just returned, "Why is the young master home so early? Isn't the company still open?"

In the past, Damien rarely returned before work ended—often staying out very late. But today, something was different.

Jack, Damien's assistant, responded softly, "The president probably won't be working overtime anymore."