He paced back and forth in the dormitory, frowning as he looked at the repayment deadline on his phone, his thick fingers seeming to be about to crush the screen.

"I still have almost $50,000 to pay back. Do I really have to listen to that guy's advice..." He scratched his short hair angrily, and sweat slid from his forehead to his sword-like eyebrows.

He took a deep breath, made up his mind, and muttered, "Forget it, it's only a month. What can that guy do to me? I need to pay the money back quickly. A real man can bend and stretch. It's just a month of listening to him. It won't kill me!"

After he sent a text message agreeing to the contract, a notification popped up on his phone that $5,000 had arrived, along with a new message: "I've transferred $5,000 to you first. I'll see how you're doing when I get back to the dorm, and then I'll consider whether to continue lending you the money."

He cursed: "Son of a bitch, he didn't even pay me all the money in one go, what does he want from me!" He sat down on his bed, not caring that he had just come back from the court and hadn't had time to shower or change out of his dirty, sweaty football uniform and shoes.

Not long after, the dormitory door opened, and you walked in with a leisurely pace.

He looked up at you, who seemed to be thinking about something, and swallowed nervously.