Traveling through the wasteland, while others are struggling to survive, I am seriously lending money.
One antibiotic will buy you three years of work, and one bottle of purified water will buy you out of your exploration earnings. Here, human life can be valued, violence can be insured, and even S-class mutant beasts have to work as a collection specialist for me.
When the former predators cried bitterly while holding the "Instalment Repayment Agreement", and when the managers of the shelter begged me to buy their weapons, I put down the tablet and pushed up the non-existent glasses:
"Welcome to my end of the world. Here, all fairness, life and death are determined by my ledger."
