John pocketed the coins, biting back the bitterness rising in his throat.
He turned on his heel and left the restaurant, his stomach churning with frustration.
The streets outside were as grim as ever, the twilight casting long shadows over the narrow alleyways.
John's head hung low as he walked, his mind filled with resentment.
How much longer could he live like this?
He worked himself to the bone every day, only to be cheated, berated, and treated like he was worthless.
As he made his way through the poorly lit streets, he sensed eyes watching him. Before he could react, a hand grabbed his shoulder, yanking him into a nearby alley.
"Look what we got here," a sneering voice came from behind him. "A wasteborn thinking he can just walk around with money in his pocket."
John tried to pull away, but another figure stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
