To Spit, or Not to Spit

Regarding the task, Lenny had a thoughtful look on his face.

'What's with this app's obsession with making me spit on people? Well, at least this one is very doable, but… I can't just brazenly spit on someone—an employee, even. I'd definitely be thrown out and lose the chance to get the PearStudio…'

At the male employee's comment, Lenny scrunched his brows further and scoffed arrogantly.

"And what makes you think I'm poor and can't afford it?"

The male employee, with black hair and a deeply receded hairline, sported a very low cut. His tired eyes from behind his rectangular glasses, deeply unimpressed, scanned Lenny from head to toe.

Taken aback by his reaction, Lenny perplexedly looked down, scanning himself.

His black turtleneck shirt was already fading, the loose blue jeans looked worn-out and tired, and his pale-dry toes were sticking out from under them, protruding from the top of his brown-black sandals.