Andrew said to the lady, "And don't go looking for a nice, honest man. What did an honest man ever do to deserve you?"

As the Rolls-Royce drove off, the woman on the plaza stomped her foot in frustration. "Hmph! Acting all high and mighty. You rich guys walk around in suits like you're so proper, but once the clothes come off, you're worse than animals!

"And what's wrong with liking an honest guy, huh? Plenty of them love women like me!"

Muttering to herself, she swayed her hips and went off to reel in her next customer.

…

Inside the Rolls-Royce, the driver was an elderly man dressed simply—plain shirt, cloth shoes, nothing flashy. However, he was impeccably neat and carried an unmistakable air of dignity.

This type of low-key appearance was common among the long-established elite. It looked humble, but in reality, it spoke volumes.

"You must be Andrew Lloyd, the one from Jayrodale, right?" he asked without turning his head.

Andrew nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

The old m