"Discuss things? I don't believe we have anything to discuss. Besides, I know you're a lord from the Alrose Family, but so what? It's your own damn fault for offending someone you shouldn't have. Hah." The man holding the gun to Freud's head was a handsome, blond youth, but his eyes were a sinister, blood-red, and his words were chilling to the bone.
"No, no… someone I shouldn't have offended? I-I'm sorry, I truly don't understand what you mean… I'm a member of the British Alrose Family. I have a lot of money, so let's make a deal, shall we? I'll give you all my money, just please, please spare me. I'm serious. I'm willing to give you everything I own, I swear to God," Freud stammered in response.
He wasn't a fool; on the contrary, he was quite clever. He could clearly sense the man's murderous intent. This wasn't a joke—it was real. The realization made him tremble uncontrollably, consumed by pure terror… even though he still had no idea what was happening.
