"Want to fight me?"

"With that little skill… you're far too green."

Lance straightened his collar, adjusted his tie, and let a faint smirk curl at the corner of his lips.

He hadn't planned on making a move against Baccarat, but since she had practically thrown herself at him, offering herself up on a silver platter—why would he waste the opportunity? Of course, he had to enjoy it.

Afterward, Lance calmly left the amusement hall and returned to the shopping center.

"These troublesome women… still not finished?"

Spreading his Observation Haki, Lance covered the entire twenty-plus floors of the center. Instantly, he found the three women amidst the crowd.

They were laughing and chatting, carrying bags piled high. When they'd first arrived, they'd been empty-handed, but now they were draped in silver jewelry, diamond necklaces, brand-new designer clothes from head to toe. Whatever caught their eyes, they took—sometimes even emptying entire stores if the mood struck. After all, they had nothing but money to burn.

"These spendthrift women… what am I going to do with them?"

Exhaling a smoke ring, Lance left the mall and glanced around before stepping into a steakhouse. He'd been here long enough—it was time to taste the food.

"Welcome, honored guest!"

But the greeter wasn't some elegant hostess—it was a young girl in a work uniform. She bowed politely, her clear voice revealing the training drilled into her.

"Ah! You're the VIP guest from before!"

She blinked in recognition, recalling that he was the man she had tried to sell roses to earlier, escorted by Baccarat herself into the gambling hall.

"Bring me your finest dishes. The best."

Lance gave her a cold glance.

"Yes, sir!"

She quickly bowed again and hurried away.

Lance picked a table at random and sat down. As he looked around, he noticed many men in black suits, with white stripes running down their left sleeves to the floor. He recognized them instantly—Tesoro's men.

And it wasn't just the suited guards. Nearly all the waitstaff—girls like the one who'd greeted him—were children. They carried plates, cleaned floors, and served drinks with practiced motions.

Here, this was normal. No one batted an eye. Everyone else simply enjoyed their meals without care.

But Lance understood. These children weren't working by choice. Their families were drowning in debt, and to pay it off, they had been forced to sell roses in the streets, or work in Tesoro's establishments. They lived hungry, desperate lives, yet even so, their debts would follow them forever. This was Tesoro's cruel reality.

Lance merely sighed and waited. Soon, his meal arrived, dishes covering the table. He tried a bite, nodding in satisfaction—the food here was excellent.

Then—

"Bring those brats out here!"

The door slammed open. A group of Tesoro's men entered, their expressions hard, their voices harsh. The atmosphere in the restaurant froze as every customer fell silent, recognizing the uniforms.

Lance's brows furrowed. He hated being disturbed while eating. Absolutely hated it.

"Sir, please! Please don't shout, you'll scare the customers!"

Several children rushed out from the back, faces pale.

"Don't you know what day it is? Time to pay your debts!" one of the men barked.

"Please… give us a few more days," the same little girl from before begged, her voice trembling. "We'll have the money soon. Please, just a little more time!"

"More time? Sure, no problem." The thug smirked. "But that'll cost you another twenty thousand in interest."

"You can't!" Tears welled in the girl's eyes. "That's too much!"

A slightly older boy stepped forward, clenching his fists. "We already pay every month, and you keep demanding more! How can we ever pay it all back?"

"You little brat, watch your tone!" The thug snarled, raising a fist. "Looks like you need a lesson."

The blow swung down toward the boy.

But before it landed, a large hand caught the fist mid-swing.

"Please… forgive them."

It was a tall, broad-shouldered man with white hair, wearing round sunglasses and a cook's apron. He stood protectively in front of the children, his head bowed.

"Boss!"

"Manager!" the children cried.

So this was the owner of the steakhouse.

"You dare stop us?" The thug sneered. "Do you even know who we are? We're Tesoro's men! You want to rebel?"

"We'll repay everything we owe," the manager said firmly, then dropped to his knees. "But I beg you, let the children go. They're just kids."

"You think you can tell us what to do?" The thug spat on him. "You owe money too! Can't even save yourself, and you're trying to protect others?"

He pressed his boot on the man's head, grinding it into the floor. "Stop frowning! Give me a smile! Come on, smile for me!"

The other thugs burst into laughter as the manager was kicked and humiliated.

And through it all, Lance sat quietly at his table, watching.

(End of Chapter)

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