Workshop (4)
[Take it, or put it back and leave]
As expected, nonferrous metals and precious metals were still different.
Compared to the note wrapped around the key, the writing on the one beneath the gold coin was much clearer.
And at a glance, the very first sentence showed a masterful grasp of playing hard to get.
[The reward is not for what you have already done, but for what you are about to do.]
The second sentence was even more aloof and austere, striking just the right chord with his inner chuunibyou.
And that was everything written on the note.
There was no contact information, recruitment number, franchise hotline—just a sense of destiny and mystery turned up to the max.
Forget being able to tell, from the feel of it in his hand, that the coin's density was perfectly normal.
The copy alone was enough to make him regret it for decades if he put it back, went home, had dinner, and went to bed. He'd be waking up in the middle of the night years later, haunted by what might have been.
Hmph!
With a cold laugh, Fu Qian folded up the note. The next moment, he held the gold coin up to the light.
Regret was merely a way for the weak to make themselves feel better.
Anyone who said, "If only I'd done things differently back then," would have less than a one-in-ten chance of actually doing so if given another chance.
How could someone who had spent years lying low, finally collecting the tags "ordinary," "middle-school student," and "received a mysterious object," allow regret to profane this summons?
This was the courage to face one's calling. It had absolutely nothing to do with the design on the coin.
Fu Qian looked down at the glittering