Even though he had lost his memories, every fiber of his being was refusing.
"No," Lin Mo said with mild displeasure, "I'm not wearing that."
"That won't do," the recorder chuckled lightly. "To enter the competition, you must follow our rules. If you won't cooperate, you can't participate."
Truth be told, this man didn't want Lin Mo to enter in the first place, and this was working out perfectly—it would make this ignorant kid realize his limitations and back off.
After all, in his view, not just anyone could become a noble sumo wrestler.
Seeing that Lin Mo was not very willing, Tama didn't think much of it as she tugged at the corner of Lin Mo's shirt and whispered, "How about we just leave? If we sell all these bamboo hats, we'll have money to buy food."
Lin Mo glanced down at her and asked, "How much can these bamboo hats sell for?"
Tama thought for a moment and replied, "If things go smoothly, a little over eight hundred beli or so."
Lin Mo asked again, "What can eight hundred beli buy?"
Tama continued, "We can buy half a catty of rice. If we're frugal, it'll be enough for me and my master for three days. With you included, two days should be no problem. It's fine—I'll weave a few more bamboo hats these next two days, and we can come back to Boro Town to sell them the day after tomorrow."
Tama smiled with innocent optimism.
The few people nearby who overheard their conversation mostly snickered with amusement.
"With just that little bit of money, what can you do? It wouldn't even be enough for me to eat a single meal."
"One look and you can tell they're people from the slums. Really hilarious. Where do they get