Trash of the planet
"Well, this really isn't what I expected." I mumbled as I saw the sick bastard's real form.
The man before me was a really old man. I mean, he looked about seventy to eighty years old—when we compare to Earth's aging system, of course. Like, there exist people who don't look their age in this world, but does the vice versa exist here as well? If that isn't the case, doesn't that mean that he's super old?
"Please, don't…" The sick bastard kept mumbling.
It didn't seem like he heard the words that I said. And it didn't seem like he wasn't gonna hear anymore as long as he was in this daze.
"Dude! I'm talking to you!" I grabbed hold of his face as I spoke.
However, that's when I felt it. He was frail compared to when he was wearing all those rings. I guess I understand why he didn't want me to take the rings off of him. But there were some things I needed him to answer.