"Please, help my father, Miss Mistine."
In the office, a frail young man knelt on the ground, pleading incessantly to the woman with her legs propped up on the desk. "You must have the medicine here; I know you can help. My father is truly going to..."
The woman interrupted him indolently, "If he's so close to death, you should be in a hurry to get the medicine."
"If you're in such a hurry..."
The woman, with a coarse face adorned with several scars on her neck and cheeks, grinned menacingly. "You wouldn't mind paying a bit more, would you?"
"I..."
The young man opened his mouth, and faced with Mistine's query, he gritted his teeth and answered resolutely, "One gold coin... that's all I can muster, Miss Mistine."
"Not enough."
Mistine stared at him impassively. "Ten gold coins."
"Ten... ten gold coins?!"
