Chapter 8
Clayton could only sneer inwardly as he watched the scene unfold. These people were shameless beyond belief.
Seeing that he remained silent, the group of farmers grew more aggressive, some even attempting to drag him away with them. But Clayton stayed calm and began to speak.
"Ahem, my dear brothers and uncles, it's not that I don't want to help," Clayton began with a dignified tone. "But the effort and energy I've poured into farming is no small thing."
"You all know my father just passed away. I have very little magic crystal left. On top of that, the deadlines for the wheat tax and housing tax are fast approaching..." he continued, his voice soft, full of sorrow.
"Let alone spending my magic energy—just staying alive is a struggle!" he added, sounding even more pitiful.
Hearing this, the group began to quiet down. A sense of guilt crept in. After all, they understood how hard life could be in the City of Magic.
Don't be fooled by their ragged, dirt-streaked appearance—they were once the chosen few, one in a million. In the ordinary world, they could have lived as nobles or part of the wealthy elite.
But they had chosen to live on the Magic Continent, hoping to be blessed by its wonders. That choice had led them to this life.
As silence fell, Equus grew displeased with the shift in mood.
"So what are you really saying, Clayton? Isn't it just that you don't want to help? Why put on this whole performance?" he sneered, trying to turn the crowd back against him.
The others snapped out of their sympathy and began pressing Clayton again—though less aggressively than before.