It was a cold night.
"Claw machines! Anyone want to play the claw machines?" Inside the convenience store, a lightly dressed, short and clumsy figure pleaded with the passersby. "Please, just try the claw machines. Anyone...?"
"Sorry, I'm not very good at claw machines. Ha, haha..."
"No, thanks. I still need to get home..."
"Machines are my natural enemy. I don't know the first thing about claw machines..."
Of course, pleading alone could not draw in customers. People shook their heads, made excuses, and refused one after another, making the short, clumsy figure look pitiful and helpless. So he smiled, putting on what he thought was a friendly but terrifying grin as he began frantically soliciting customers.
"It doesn't matter if you're not good at it! As they say, practice makes perfect. Humans aren't born knowing how to play claw machines, are they? As long as you keep practicing..." He looked utterly ferocious as he addressed the customer who claimed not to be good at claw machines—being bad at it was ideal! Only customers who were terrible at it but addicted to playing could make him money...
"But..." The customer who was bad at claw machines took half a step back.
"This is a newly arrived claw machine. The prizes inside are all premium meat products. Sir, don't you really want to give it a try?" The short, clumsy man grew even more ferocious in the face of another refusal.
"Gulp..." The customer who had backed away swallowed involuntarily. Though the figure was short and clumsy, his bulky, fleshy build still made the customer sense danger. Combined with that savage expression—
*I'm dead, dead, dead! He'll kill me! If I refuse, this short, fat guy will definitely take me out! Mom, I only came out to buy some ingredients! Why