The two arrived before a workshop-like building that looked somewhat disorderly. Adams raised a hand and knocked on the door.
Before long, an old man with disheveled hair and grease-stained clothes opened the door, looking suspiciously at the unfamiliar visitors before him.
"May I ask what the two of you need?"
Adams got straight to the point without any hesitation.
"I heard you built a submarine with exceptional performance. Are you planning to sell it? I'm willing to pay a high price for it."
Upon hearing this, Wolf waved them off without a second thought.
"Although I don't know where you got that information, you should leave. The submarine is the work of my heart, not merchandise for trade!"
His face bore a scientist's stubbornness and his cherishing of his creation. Clearly, he was unwilling to let the stench of money taint his life's work.
Just as expected. Adams had anticipated this possibility long ago and glanced sideways at Baccarat.
Baccarat understood at once. Elegantly removing one of her long black gloves, she slipped her hand into the front of her clothes, felt around, and pulled out a coin still carrying her body heat and a faint milky scent.
With a flick of her finger, the gold coin rolled precisely to Wolf's feet and lightly tapped the tip of his shoe.
"This coin buys your submarine."
Following the lines Adams had given her beforehand, Baccarat spoke in a languid yet certain tone.
Wolf felt utterly insulted. His face flushed as he was about to berate them, but his feet inexplicably slipped. His whole body crashed backward, and the back of his head slammed heavily into the ground, leaving stars dancing before his eyes. This was only the beginning.
Next, it was as though misfortune had descended upon him in an