As the sun reached the west, painting the land in a warm golden hue, Vlad had sold nearly all the syllabi and uniforms that Max's bots had captured.
The towering mound of books had dwindled to a modest stash.
"There are still around fifty books remaining," Max said, counting through the pile.
"So some of them actually chose to buy the books later rather than from us," Vlad sighed. "At the end of the day they are just kids, choosing petty grudge over profit."
As if Vlad was the one to talk. Not that he would ever admit it, but yes. He was very petty.
The refusal of Leo's offer and the ten percent increment to the share of the students who had supported him was proof enough of that.
"Ah... e-excuse me." A soft, hesitant voice called out, drawing the attention of both of them.
