"So what do you say we make a bet, vendor killer?"
My voice carried farther than I expected, cutting through the street and leaving a brief, heavy silence in its wake. For a moment, even the background chatter died down. Maribelle didn't answer right away, and the people around us leaned in without meaning to, waiting for her response.
Then she scowled, sharp and immediate.
"What makes you think I'll listen to a scammer's bargains? You're nothing but a dead man, kid!!" She clicked her tongue, already dismissing me.
I'd expected that. My system had practically spelled her out for me—stubborn, prideful, the kind of woman who would rather suffer than admit she wasn't in control. The type who thought she was always right, and that no one had the authority to tell her otherwise.
Honestly, it explained a lot.
