After a prolonged distance of walking, Damian eventually arrived at a more relatively high-end home sitting around the slums of the city. While the houses around the area are run-down and barren, they at least still hold a semblance of stability and decent living conditions regardless.

Making his way to the front porch, Damian roughly lifted and grabbed an old rusty key from underneath the doormat. With an annoyed face, he aggressively forced the key into the lock. Unable to make any progress, Damian struggled in a tedious losing battle with his rusty key until eventually, a loud click signaled his victory. Smirking at his achievement, Damian swung the door open. Upon entering, he was greeted by a ridiculous messy array of brushes, cans of paints, canvases, papers, and cardboard boxes littering the floor. Carefully dodging and weaving through the excessive mess, he made it to the next room where he spotted an old man sitting on a lone stool. Brush in hand, the old man sat in silence, painting a static and confusing work propped up on easels.

As Damian walked along the creaky wooden floor, the noise announced his arrival. The man turned around, observing Damian closely with squinting eyes:

"...Say…you look familiar, do I know you? How did you get in my house—get outta here! Leave before I call someone over—I-uh…you still look familiar actually…" The old man rambled sporadically.

Damian rolled his eyes at his delusional behavior:

"Yes, you do know me, I'm just a relative stopping by."

"You are? Ha! That's ridiculous, I haven't spoken to anyone- although I do speak to my paintings! I think I've seen you in one of my paintings as well—say, that grey hair also seems familiar as well. Yes-it all brings me back to the good ol' days when I was a thriving youngster like you..!" The old man responded in a boisterous roaring laugh.

Damian simply shook his head with a tired look:

'Still got a few screws loose in the brain. What a hopeless man.'

Half a year ago, Damian came across the strange man when he suddenly started to routinely stop by the church while he was working day shifts at the time. The only problem was that every time he entered the church, he would constantly ramble on about Damian's grey hair. Every single week, the old man would show up to the church where he would ask Damian insane questions every time, but would always bring it back to how he missed his grey hair—even though the old man had a bit of grey hair himself.

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Every time he came by, Damian was constantly getting pestered by the senile man.

At some point, he simply thought to ignore the man as he thought he was just another drugged-up homeless person, but slowly he realized something very interesting. The man wasn't just crazy. He also had his own home and savings fund that was enough to feed him for the rest of his life.

This allowed Damian to come up with a very nice idea on how to deal with the old man…

— — 7 months ago — —

"Hey, I know you—you're my niece's grandpa aren't you?" Damian claimed in ridiculous fake surprise.

"I knew it! The moment I walked in, I had a hunch-I had a feeling that that grey hair of yours seemed familiar. What a small world we uh…hm…" The old man smiled at the funny 'coincidence' before slowly spacing out of the conversation.

Damian maintained his fake look, gaining a little more insight into this man's reasoning:

'I see, so he must've known someone in his family that had grey hair. Although, my hair only really looks grey when there's light shining on it.'

"How could you even tell my hair was grey? It's actually way closer to a solid black if anything." Damian inquired.

"I've always had impressive sight, boy. I may be old, but these eyes never fail me no matter the occasion." The old man smirked.

Damian nodded, somewhat unconvinced:

'I don't really buy it, but sure I guess.'

"By the way boy, why don't I invite you over to my home to look at my works over the years, but I dunno if any of them are ready…oh dear this brain of mine. I should've put in a little more work when I was younger or I-" The old man mindlessly continued in his senselessness.

Damian widened his eyes:

'This definitely works! If I can fool this man enough, he might even let me sleep and eat there—hehehe! There's no way I'm gonna let this golden goose slip away now!'

"Thank you so much sir, I would love to. By the way sir, I still haven't got your name." Damian asked with a bright smile.

"Ooo I go by many names that even the greatest of minds marveled at! It was uh-something with…I-I think it starts with a K…K-…ah that's right! My name is Klaus!" The old man finally remembered.

"...My name is Damian, Mr. Klaus.

"Nonsense, just call me Professor! When I had all eyes on me at a time many moons ago, I taught the arts!" Klaus explained while reminiscing his past in a deranged manner.

"...Alright Professor," Damian calmly smiled.

'He's crazy…'

***

It took some time, but Damian eventually tricked the old man into letting him stay at his place. In the beginning, he was pretty worried about getting caught, but he eventually learned that anything he did essentially went without question. Although it made things easier for Damian, he still liked to occasionally wonder how this man turned out this way.

Normally insane people tend to lurk around the streets homeless, but that wasn't the case for Klaus. He actually had his own home and retirement funds. The only question now was where these resources even came from.

A house, plenty of food, and a crazy person living inside. To Damian, Klaus felt like a living contradiction.

And in the face of all of this bizarre information, Damian could only come to one conclusion:

'While everything about this man is strange…it doesn't matter to me! As long as I get free stuff, who the hell cares!'