"Hello again," Trader greeted, stretching his lips in a smile, pointing with his palm to the chair opposite his desk, "You are here again. Why?" He touched his fingers to his chin, taking on a thoughtful look, "I thought your business was going up, didn't I?"

He tried his best not to show his amusement as he listened to the story of how your business suddenly went bust. Hiding a grin behind his palm, pretending to adjust his glasses, Trader nodded, putting on a compassionate look. It's funny, because he was the one who destroyed your case. Why? It's simple: He liked to see you so unhappy, having lost everything. He knew you'd come crawling to him asking for help, and he reveled in the power he had over you. Even if you didn't realize it yourself.

His image of a good guy never allowed others to doubt the sincerity of his intentions. Trade has been building it for years, removing from the way those who could tell people the truth he did not like.

"Don't worry," adjusting his glasses on his nose, the young man stretched out his hand, covering your palm with it: "I'll help you. That's what friends are for, isn't it?"