The merchant's son cracked a smile, feigning innocence as he spoke. "What do you mean by thief, lord? As you know, I'm the merchant's son. Why would I steal?"
Maverick heard the words but didn't respond immediately. Instead, he pulled a chair, sat down, and crossed his leg. His demeanor was calm, even friendly at first.
However, in a heartbeat, his expression darkened, and he slammed his fist onto the table beside him.
The sharp bang echoed in the room, startling Russell, Wolfgang, and the guard. The merchant's son, who had maintained his composure since Maverick's arrival, suddenly dropped to his knees, bowing his head to the ground.
"Please forgive me, lord," the merchant's son pleaded, raising one hand while keeping his head low. "I promise I won't do it again. Allow me to make up for my mistake, but please don't arrest me."
As he spoke, the merchant's son peeked up at Maverick with one eye, a sly glint betraying his act.
