Chapter 3: Borrowing Money
Dusk walked down to the parking lot and picked up his battered old bicycle before pedaling toward a nearby pawnshop.
It didn't take long before he arrived. In front of him stood a small, inconspicuous building that didn't look the least bit legitimate.
But the more shady a place was, the more he liked it. After all, only these kinds of establishments would be willing to help someone like him right now.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. A burly man covered in menacing tattoos lowered his reading glasses and glanced at him. Seeing a young man with a sturdy build, the kind who probably did manual labor for a living, and judging by the way he carried himself, not particularly well-educated—easy prey. The man figured this might be a good chance to make a tidy profit.
"What are you pawning?" he asked.
"My bike is outside, along with all my IDs," Dusk said plainly. "And I want a high-interest loan on top of that."
The shopkeeper chuckled. "Heh, that's easy. How much do you want? I can give you a decent price for your stuff. But you'd better repay on time, you hear?"
The moment a potential sucker walked in on his own, the shopkeeper's face lit up with glee—though he still put on a serious front. Pawning was just pocket change. In seedy places like this, it was the loan sharking that brought in the real money.
To someone like Dusk—who had lived for far too long—this so-called intimidating shopkeeper was no more dangerous than a child pretending to be a gangster. His threats didn't even come close to the righteous cultivators who once tried to kill him.
"Of course. Business runs on trust. If I don't repay, how would I ever borrow money again?" Dusk replied with a smile so sincere it could melt ice.
The shopkeeper grinned wider. The more honest they seemed, the easier they were to squeeze. Collecting debt from this one would be a piece of cake.