What exactly is this thing called life?
Left Garrison's question stumped Lorenzo, the cunning Lorenzo had already thought of many ways to handle things, but no matter what, he hadn't expected Left Garrison to ask him such a question.
A question that seemed laughable, naive, and most unsuitable for people like them.
"Are you... joking?"
Lorenzo couldn't understand; he looked at Left Garrison, feeling that the various peculiar feelings this old man gave him might just be an illusion, in reality, he was just a somewhat dull guy, all those possibilities were just his own delusions.
"No, I'm not joking," Left Garrison replied solemnly, "Do you think this question should not be posed by me?"
"Yes, look at you, and then look at me, we've got countless lives on our hands, life is something that, to us... is just like work."
Lorenzo couldn't help uttering nonsense.
"We're like lumberjacks, do lumberjacks care about what happens to the big trees?"
