"Hahaha! Old man, we meet again. Have you prepared this month's tax money?"
Masha and the old man flinched. Reflexively, they turned toward the voice and saw a burly blond-haired man approaching.
His face was ugly, twisted into a creepy grin.
The muscles under his t-shirt stood out clearly, and in his left hand he carried a sheathed sword.
His presence instantly struck fear into the other merchants.
"Damn! He's really here! I need to close my shop quickly!" one merchant exclaimed in panic.
The others reacted the same way. The blond man was a thug in this area, and no one dared oppose him.
He was big, muscular, and terrifyingly strong. Crossing him was as good as signing your own death warrant.
The old man swallowed his fear and said nervously, "Can you give me some time, Jack? I have no money."
Every month, this man came to collect what he called "taxes." Of course, it wasn't anything legal—just an excuse to extort the merchants.
