Back in the room, Asher had already settled comfortably among the guards like he had known them for years. The tension they initially carried around him slowly disappeared with every passing minute, especially after he fed them pathetic stories about his so-called miserable background.
He spoke about a mother working endless shifts just to keep food on the table.
A father risking his life daily as a guard in some dangerous mafia household.
A poor family constantly drowning in debts and suffering.
And somehow… they believed every single word.
Asher almost burst into laughter watching their sympathetic expressions.
Idiots.
He wasn't even trying that hard.
The funny thing was that he had insulted them several times already without them noticing. In Asher's eyes, poverty truly was a disease of the mind because how could they trust someone so quickly simply because he claimed to be struggling like them?
Pathetic.
