"You! You broke my gemstone and now you want to just leave like this?"

"Hmm?"

Moen froze for a moment, narrowing his eyes slightly:

"What do you mean by that?"

"Look!"

The scruffy-headed old man held onto Moen's ankle with one hand while lifting the gemstone with the other.

Under the sunlight, it was obvious that there was a clear crack running across the surface of the gemstone.

However, when Moen had observed it in hand earlier, it was flawless.

"This must have been broken by you when you were tossing it around!"

The scruffy-headed old man looked furious:

"You have to pay!"

"It broke just by me observing it?"

Moen was somewhat taken aback and looked at the old man:

"How much do you want me to pay?"

"I…"

The old man moved his gaze over Moen's expensive clothing, and a flash of greed appeared in his eyes:

"One hundred thousand. I want one hundred thousand!"

"One hundred thousand?"

Moen raised an eyebrow.

That was an interesting number.

If the gemstone were truly the "Tears of True Love," not even one hundred thousand Ameels would be enough to buy the box that held it. But it was clearly a fake, and judging by its crude craftsmanship, ten Ameels could probably buy a whole pile of them at a wholesale market.

Which meant…

"Extortion?"

Moen suddenly found the situation amusing.

"What extortion!"

The scruffy-headed old man angrily retorted:

"You broke my gemstone, so you must pay for it."

"What if I don’t pay?" Moen said, half smiling.

"If you don’t pay…"

The old man's shifty eyes darted around for a moment before he suddenly threw himself onto the ground, rolling around and wailing loudly:

"Oh no! Everyone, come and see! Someone broke my possession and won't pay for it! Is there no justice? No law in this world anymore? Is this how honest folks get bullied?"

Given that it was a bustling street, the old man's commotion quickly attracted a crowd, who began pointing at both the old man and Moen.

Just then, someone wearing a uniform squeezed through the crowd.

"What's going on here? Why is everyone gathered here?"

It was a patrol officer.

The officer held his baton as he scanned the scene, his gaze lighting up when it landed on Moen. He turned to the old man and asked:

"What happened?"

"Officer, you have to stand up for me!"

Seeing the patrol officer arrive, the scruffy-headed old man looked far more confident. Rising to his feet, he pointed at Moen and said:

"He broke my property! And he refused to pay for it! He's bullying me just because I'm a lonely old man with no one to rely on!"

"Is that so?"

The patrol officer approached, tapping his baton in his hand, and looked at Moen:

"Kid, damaging someone else's belongings means you need to compensate them fairly. Surely this is a basic principle you understand?"

"Of course I understand."

"Then quickly pay what’s owed and wrap this up. Don’t block the road and disrupt others," the patrol officer said impatiently.

"Looking at the clothes you're wearing, surely taking out a hundred thousand Ameels isn't a big deal."

"Exactly! Compensation is only fair and proper."

"Kid, are you really planning to cheat this old man out of his due?"

Following the patrol officer’s lead, many of the onlookers joined in criticizing Moen.

Suddenly, Moen seemed to have been transformed into a reckless scoundrel who broke a priceless gemstone belonging to a lonely old man and refused to compensate him.

But when Moen glanced over, he realized that most of the people speaking out were actually just a fixed group within the crowd.

"Oh my, junior, it looks like you've encountered one of Belland Lower City District’s ‘specialties,’ huh."

Anna, observing from the sidelines, didn’t seem worried at all. Instead, her face showed a look of amusement as though she were watching a good show.

"Specialties?"

"Yeah, it’s this kind of collusion between petty crooks and corrupt officials to extort people. They usually target someone like you who looks wealthy. There are quite a few folks who fall for this every year. I thought this street might be a bit better, but it seems like as long as it’s in the Lower City District, it’s all the same, huh?"

"So brazen? Aren't they afraid of running into someone tougher who’ll fight back?"

"This is the Lower City District, after all—a place teeming with filth and stench that the high and mighty officials above wouldn’t even bother looking at. What 'tougher people'? Besides, these types often have ties to local gangs. They steer clear of the names they know not to mess with and specifically target outsiders like you who seem easy prey."

"Do I really look that easy to bully?"

Moen scratched his head.

He couldn’t help but wonder why he kept encountering these sorts of situations that felt like they belonged exclusively to stories with heroic protagonists.

"What nonsense are you spouting about?"

The patrol officer, overhearing Anna’s words, suddenly turned livid. However, when he turned to look at her, his eyes lingered on her beautiful face and the alluring curves that even her dress couldn’t fully conceal. His expression quickly turned heated, and he sneered:

"It seems like you’re no innocent party either. I suspect you’ve stolen something and hidden it. You’d better come back with me for a thorough investigation."

Hearing this, Moen’s expression instantly darkened.

He took a step forward, blocking the officer's view, and said in a low voice:

"Now this is interesting. A mere patrol officer claiming he can detain someone without evidence? Do you really think you can act completely unrestrained?"

"What do you mean 'without evidence'? We clearly have witnesses and physical evidence right here!" The officer smirked arrogantly, as if he had done this many times before and felt quite at ease with the process.

After all, intimidation alone was usually enough to make most people comply.

"Ha, seems like speaking to you is just a waste of time."

Moen sighed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a family crest engraved with the image of a sword.

"Do you recognize this?"

"What is that supposed to be?"

"Don’t recognize it? Then go find someone who does."

"Why should I listen to you? Who the heck do you think you are?"

The officer still sneered.

No sign of a Crimson Flame Gang insignia? Pfft, what’s he even trying to pull here?

But the next moment, his sneer turned into panic as he saw a massive fist grow larger and larger in his vision.

"Why? Because of this!"

Rarely, Moen showed unrestrained anger in his eyes and swung his fist fiercely.

"I wasn’t planning on getting brutal; I didn’t want to come across as crude in front of my senior. But apparently, handling it this way is faster!"

The officer's smug face twisted instantly under the force of Moen's punch. Then his entire body flew backward.

Before the officer could fully lose consciousness amid his agonized groans, Moen coldly added:

"Of course, more than anything, your filthy eyes were the real problem."

...

"Uh-oh, seems like we've picked the wrong target this time."

Elsewhere, watching the patrol officer being thrown by a single punch, the scruffy-headed old man paled instantly.

Taking advantage of the chaos in the crowd, he began crawling away, trying to slip away unnoticed. Yet his hand was suddenly pinned to the ground by a forceful white boot.

Anna adjusted her long skirt to prevent any unseemly exposure, smiled down at the terrified old man, and said, "Why are you leaving so soon, sir? Don’t you want those reparations anymore?"

---

Just as Moen had predicted, once he directly “assaulted” the officer, the situation escalated rapidly.

First, a large, potbellied man appeared, cursing and surrounded by a crew. Upon seeing the family crest in Moen’s hand, his anger instantly turned to dread. The panic was so overwhelming that he seemed to lose dozens of pounds in an instant.

Then, a black carriage arrived at breakneck speed, nearly losing its wheels in the process. A sleep-deprived, heavily dark-circled, middle-aged bald man jumped out. He stumbled as he rushed up to Moen.

"Ca… Campbell, Young Master Campbell!"

The balding man wiped the sweat pouring from his brow.

"What brings you, um, to the Lower City District?"

"What, am I not allowed to come here?"

Moen briefly glanced at the man, recognizing him as the Viscount Goen from a prior brief encounter.

"Viscount Goen, your management of the Lower City District seems far from ideal."

"My deepest apologies! It’s my fault entirely—I’ll rectify it at once!"

Viscount Goen’s apologetic smile looked almost pitiful.

Inside, his spirit was cracking into countless pieces.

What in the world was happening lately? Had he unknowingly offended the ancestors of some noble household or something?

First, a count’s son had died, attracting the attention of the princess herself.

And now, even a duke’s son had shown up in his district, coincidentally stumbling upon this chaotic mess.

Why? When had the Lower City District turned into some sort of prime destination for the high and mighty visiting nobles?

These unexpected arrivals were driving him closer to total baldness!

"I’ve already got a full grasp of the situation. I promise I will deal with it properly and ensure that Young Master Campbell is satisfied.

Do you have any other requests, sir?" Viscount Goen wiped nervously at his sweat, carefully probing.

"None. Now get out of my sight."

Moen waved dismissively.

As if pardoned by the heavens, Viscount Goen hurriedly led his crew and dragged the officer and old man away.

The street quickly regained its peace.

Moen turned to his senior waiting nearby, his earlier anger dissipating into a bitter smile:

"Looks like a perfectly good mood was ruined."

"Really?"

Anna tilted her head, smiling mischievously:

"But I thought you looked quite dashing just now, junior."

"Did I?"

"Definitely. Especially when you said, 'Your eyes are too filthy.' It was like something a prince would say in a storybook."

"That’s too exaggerated."

"But it truly felt that way."

"..."

At that moment, as Anna’s crescent-moon-like smiling eyes shimmered, Moen’s heart involuntarily skipped a beat again.

"Shall we continue?"

"Mhm, sure."

The date resumed.

Moen flipped through his copy of the "Belland Dating Guide," double-checking the new route options.

He was still debating whether to head left towards the highly-rated food street or go right to the riverside, where there was said to be a fireworks show later tonight.

Meanwhile, Anna got distracted by something else.

"Oh, junior, look—it's a cat."

On a nearby stone bench, a creamy white kitten was curled up, softly meowing.

"Does senior like cats?"

Moen instinctively asked.

But there wasn’t even a need for an answer as Anna approached light-footed.

"Meow~"

"Meow-meow…"

"Meow-meow~"

"Meow-meow-meow-meow…"

Anna mimicked the cat’s calls as she carefully moved closer to it.

Her imitation was so on point that the kitten’s wariness quickly dissipated.

For a fleeting moment, in Moen’s eyes, Anna herself seemed to transform into a delicate little cat, lazing under the sunlight and softly meowing.

"So cute…" Moen muttered subconsciously.

"Right? This little kitty is adorable."

Anna had successfully scooped the kitten into her arms and was gently scratching its chin, coaxing it to purr contentedly.

"It seems to be injured."

Anna looked pitifully at the kitten's hind leg, where a gruesome wound almost exposing the bone lay. That must be why the kitten had been curled up here and didn't even try to run away when strangers approached.

Thinking for a moment, Anna took out scissors and a small knife, carefully removing the fur and necrotic flesh from the kitten's hind leg.

The kitten whimpered in pain and immediately scratched a few bloody marks on the back of Anna's hand.

"Senior!"

"I'm fine."

Anna paid it no mind, gently held the kitten down, and retrieved a magical potion, pouring it onto the kitten's wound.

The wound healed visibly, and Anna meticulously wrapped the leg with a bandage.

Once she had finished, the kitten had already regained its ability to move. Perhaps frightened by the earlier pain, it suddenly dug its claws into Anna's leg, sprang up to a nearby tree, and darted away.

"Oh my, what a pity."

Watching the disappearing kitten, Anna looked a bit reluctant.

"I wanted to pet it a little longer."

"Senior, are you sure you're okay?" Moen stepped closer, noticing the scratch marks on Anna's hand.

"It's just a small scratch, nothing serious."

Anna poured the remaining magical potion onto the back of her hand, and the tiny scratches quickly disappeared without leaving a trace.

"See? Magical potions are amazing," Anna stated with a hint of pride.

"Indeed, Senior is the most amazing!" Moen replied half amused, surprised that Anna seemingly had such a childish side to her.

"But junior," Anna suddenly rested her chin on her hand, gazing at Moen with a teasing smile, "You've had enough time—surely you've figured out where we’re heading next, haven't you?"

"..."

Moen's smile froze instantly. Oh no. He had gotten so engrossed in his senior that he had completely forgotten.

…

Ultimately, they decided to find a restaurant and settle lunch first.

Because Moen's stomach let out a loud protest, it finally reminded him that he hadn't eaten a meal in over thirty hours. His stomach had long been empty to the point of his front sticking to his back, but his anticipation for a date with his senior had temporarily suppressed his body's natural hunger.

Although this long-awaited date had been anything but smooth thus far.

"But this time, nothing will go wrong!" Moen clenched his fist with confidence.

There’s a saying, “To win a woman’s heart, you must first win her appetite.” That’s why Moen had studied the reviews, photos, and comparisons of several well-rated restaurants on this street.

After careful comparison, he finally chose a private restaurant that seemed flawless in terms of ratings and décor.

The only drawback was its slightly remote location—it wasn’t in the bustling commercial area but within a quieter residential neighborhood called Durank Street.

However, for a date, wasn’t such a peaceful ambiance, paired with delightful music and candlelight, the perfect setting?

No woman could resist the charm of a perfectly orchestrated candlelight di—er, candlelight lunch!

Anna smiled faintly, looking at Moen brimming with confidence. "Well then, I should look forward to it."

…

…

"How... could it be this way..."

Half an hour later, after finally locating the restaurant tucked away in its remote location, Moen began questioning his reality.

"Why... is it closed?"

Staring at the restaurant's tightly shut door with the words "Temporarily Closed" boldly displayed, and noticing the faintly amused expression on Anna's face, Moen fell once again under the seemingly never-ending curse of bad luck.

What was this?

Was he truly this unlucky?

Running into extortion was bad enough, but how could the carefully selected restaurant he found after so much effort be closed?

And on a Sunday?

Would any restaurant deliberately pick Sundays to close?

I just wanted to have a perfect date, is that so hard?

"I refuse to believe it! Fate, if you really want to challenge me, bring on even worse misfortune!"

At his wit’s end, Moen roared toward the sky, his eyes burning red with frustration.

And just as though the heavens had decided to grant his wish, Moen suddenly heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Mo—Moen... is that you?"