The passerby was just about to lose his temper when he suddenly felt a chill on his neck. Looking down, he saw a dagger glinting coldly against his skin, making him shiver uncontrollably. "You… What do you want?" he stammered in fear.
"I'm asking you—whose mansion does the carriage that just passed belong to?"
"Wh-which one?" The passerby looked pitiful, his face contorted with grievance. He was leisurely strolling the streets, joyful one moment, and the next, calamity had struck from nowhere.
"The luxurious carriage that just went by."
"I…I don't know! I was just… just walking around, that's all! P-please, Master, spare me! We… we don't know each other, and there's no grudge between us!" The passerby felt utterly wronged but couldn't voice his frustration—he was just out for a walk and somehow ended up being accosted. It was beyond unlucky.
