Amidst the magnificent main hall paved with shiny marble, where priests in gold-embroidered robes walked lightly, Alex's appearance looked pitifully out of place.
His leather shoes were worn down at the heels, covered in dried mud from the Slums, and his clothes were stiff, coarse fabric faded from too many washings; all of it was like scars of poverty imprinted on the teenager.
"If you don't have money, I can lend you some temporarily, consider it an advance. You can pay me back after you start working and get your salary." Glen generously offered, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a bulging leather wallet, his movement natural as if spending money was as effortless for him as breathing.
Alex looked up at him suspiciously, his dark eyes narrowing, wondering why this person was suddenly so kind. In a place where people were ready to sell each other out for a piece of bread, unprovoked kindness usually came with a trap.
