The old man froze for a moment. Then realization struck—and fury ignited in his eyes.
"Hey! What's the big idea, saying something like that? You trying to scare people off from buying my deer?! You'd really watch me end up homeless just because I can't pay my debts?!"
He stepped forward, fists clenched.
"Well then—how about we settle this with a fight?!"
Blinded by rage, the old man lunged at the tattooed, middle-aged man who had insulted his deer. But before things could spiral out of control, several bystanders rushed in to hold him back and keep the scuffle from escalating.
The tattooed man didn't flinch.
"What? Am I wrong?" he said coldly. "Your deer's not worth it. And your debt? That's your problem—not ours."
A wave of tension swept through the crowd. His words were sharp—brutal, even. Everyone could feel it. But no one dared speak up.
This was a world ruled by swords and sorcery. Mercy didn't come cheap.
The old man looked crushed. Tears welled in his eyes again.
