He could be as filthy as shit, or he could be in that so-called hall of elegance, resisting the urge to spit anywhere.
He was him, Scar Dog.
Any words used to describe him seemed pale and weak.
People need to live a happy life.
A clean person would live a tiring life; even a speck of dirt on them would make them uncomfortable.
But a dirty person would live much more comfortably.
He had never considered himself a good person; all he knew was that he became somebody after following Mr. Jacob.
"Come on, come on!!!"
Scar Dog looked excitedly at the photo album projected in front of him in mid-air, holding a remote control pen and sliding through the photos on the tablet.
In the photos, a girl is dressed very brightly and was taken in various high-profile occasions.
It seemed like a rich young lady.
Walking on the street, she was the kind of person that men didn't dare to look at directly.
