They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System

Chapter 294: A Very Sharp Limit Chapter 294: A Very Sharp Limit “Could you accept this just for now?

Exchange it later?” But the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

The seller's face twisted into a deep frown.

He leaned slightly over the counter, his irritation barely contained.

“No, sir,” he replied coldly.

“This is a market, not a charity house.

| do not have time, or reason, to do favors like that.” His eyes narrowed as he looked Abuchi over again, from his

clean clothes to his neatly kept hair.

Looks like he is from a rich family, the man thought bitterly.

One of those people who thinks everyone else is beneath them.

That shopkeepers should be grateful just to serve them.

He was not the only one thinking that.

The man behind Abuchi folded his arms with a scoff.

“These spoiled kids,” he muttered to the woman beside him.

“They think they're better than the rest of us.

Like the world should just bend for them.” Others in line, having pieced together what was happening, nodded

subtly in agreement.

Sshook their heads.

A few even laughed under their breath.

The silent judgment in the air was so thick, it might as well have been shouted.

Abuchi felt the heat rise to his face again.

His chest tightened.

This... is so humiliating.

He had no intention of looking anyone in the eye anymore.

Every second he stood there, he could feel the dignity draining out of him.

He had escaped from Obinna’s men, dodged threats, masked his identity... and here he was, brought low not by

a battle or a plot, but by currency.

Great.

The mighty prince defeated by pocket money.

And still, no one from his team had cto help him.

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He glanced back toward them, but they were still chatting, laughing softly about something he couldn't hear.

Not even a single glance in his direction.

“This isn’t your father’s house,” the man behind him snapped, voice now sharp and unforgiving, nothing like the

forced politeness from earlier.

“Obviously, you should have exchanged your currency before coming here.

Not asking the seller to do your job for you.” The tone sliced through the air like a knife, and it hit Abuchi square

in the chest.

Right, he thought, a lump forming in his throat.

Of course it’s my fault.

| should've thought of this.

| should've been prepared.

He bit back the frustration rising inside him.

There was no point in arguing.

Instead, he bowed his head slightly in apology.

“I understand, sir,” he said, voice low.

“It’s my first tin this kingdom.

I... forgot to do that.

But | really need these supplies.

Please, if there’s anybody who can helpexchange the money later, I'll pay you with Lionara currency now,

and I'll even pay you more for the trouble.” He paused, then added quickly, “Lionara currency is very high.

One Lionara bill is worth up to four thousand Marka.

You won't lose anything.” It was a fair offer.

More than fair, even.

He was practically begging, and still trying to sound dignified doing it.

And it was true.

Everyone knew the exchange rate.

Marka was a struggling fifth world kingdom.

Lionara was a glittering gem among the great powers of the continent.

Many people in that crowd had relatives who would kill for a chance to work even as a cleaner in Lionara.

So yes, they knew what that currency was worth.

Every single one of them.

Which was why the silence that followed was so strange.

No one stepped forward.

Not one.

Sshifted uncomfortably.

Slooked away.

And others, others simply stared at him, bitter resentment simmering in their eyes.

He has that kind of money?

Just like that?

And he’s standing here like he’s one of us?

Asking us to “help” him... with interest?

We know your type.

Their thoughts weren't whispered aloud, but Abuchi could feel them all the same.

The distance.

The judgment.

The disgust.

Not because he was being rude, but because he reminded them of what they didn’t have.

And then cthe voice that broke it all.

“Tch.

Now this is why these weak people’s children think they can control our lives with money.” It was the sman

behind him, only now he wasn’t bothering with any polite filter.

His voice was loud, his anger thick and sour.

“So lazy.

You can’t even do anything yourself.

You should've brought your daddy’s servants if you're this helpless.” The crowd buzzed with agreement.

A few chuckled.

Sjust nodded to themselves.

Abuchi turned around slowly.

His fists were clenched so tight his nails dug into his palm.

His jaw locked.

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His lips parted slightly as if still holding back, but just barely.

Yes, he had been at fault.

Yes, he had made a mistake.

But there was a limit.

A very sharp limit.

He was ready to apologize.

He was even willing to be humble.

But he would not, could not, tolerate disrespect thrown so carelessly, especially not when it cto his family.

“Sir,” Abuchi said, voice low but firm.

There was steel underneath.

“You don’t have to agree.

I'm not forcing anyone.

| simply asked if anyone else would like to help.

So please, lethear them speak.” The tension was thick enough to be sliced with a blade.

The crowd shifted slightly, sensing that something in the air had changed.

But the man wasn’t backing down.

In fact, he stepped forward now, like a dog that had sniffed blood.

“Oh?

Are you trying to shutup now?” the man sneered.

“So that's it?

You don’t even think we have the right to speak?

What, is freedom of speech gone now just because you have a heavy purse?” His voice was dripping with

disdain, each word soaked in years of frustration, resentment, and bitterness.

Abuchi didn’t reply.

Not yet.

The man wasn’t done.

“Tch.

Must be nice.

That's what you people want, isn’t it?

To shut us all up?”