"Dragon Island, first..."
"Wait."
Lette looked at The Liar Demon, finding it hard to imagine how a wooden face could so vividly express such despair.
"I'm planning to give you a name."
"I already have a name!"
"Then I'll give you a stage name?"
"I'm not a singer or a juggler! Why do I need a stage name!"
"But seriously, a wooden person like you, whose nose grows longer, would definitely become popular if you debuted!"
The Liar Demon sighed: "Go ahead, I suddenly feel that not speaking my name might preserve my last shred of dignity.
...Just don't call me Pinocchio."
"Tsk..."
The Liar Demon shuddered, it seemed this person really wanted to name him Pinocchio.
"I'm planning to call you! Iron Chest!"
"Why! Tell me why!"
"Think about it, when someone asks your name, you can proudly tell them you're called Iron Chest!
Then they'll definitely ask, you're clearly made of wood! Where's the iron?
Then you answer them, you don't even have a chest muscle!"
