Horace stood near the construction site of the Horace Textile Factory, holding a money-filled wooden box with a pained expression on his face.
"Handing over this money, my heart really feels a bit uneasy... This is all saved from my thrift," he muttered softly, his eyes darting around.
[Earth-eating Rich Man] approached with a smirk, carrying a hint of mockery in his voice.
"Mr. Horace, I'm a reasonable man. If you're truly reluctant, it's okay to back out. I won't force you."
He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Hearing this, a flicker of panic flashed across Horace's face.
Especially when he thought of the Grizzly Gang's revenge, he felt a chill run down his spine, shivered, and quickly forced a stiff smile.
"Look at what you're saying, I, Horace, am a man of contract spirit... How could I go back on my word?"
Contract spirit.
What a novel concept.
[Earth-eating Rich Man] watched him with a smile, not taking seriously the words that came out of Horace's mouth.
