"Think you can just walk away? Not even going to apologize after falsely accusing us? Tell you what, we're not unreasonable. Just give me that pocket watch in your hand, and we'll call it even!"
A man with a greasy face blocked Lydia Magnus's path. He looked to be in his fifties, with a lot of gray hair. Perhaps because of the past two years of going from feast to famine, his face was terrifyingly gaunt—nothing but skin and bones.
His eyes were somewhat bulging, fixed intently on the pocket watch in Lydia Magnus's hand.
One look was enough to tell the watch was once priceless. Although it wasn't worth much now—it probably wouldn't even trade for a pack of instant noodles—the sight of something he could have never even dreamed of owning before was enough to stir his greed.
Besides, even if it wasn't valuable now, who knew what the future held?
