"That expensive? Isn't this just an old jug?"
Efan lifted the jug in his hand, staring at it with furrowed brows. His voice was clear and full of protest, drawing the attention of several people around him. He felt that the price offered was too high for something that looked worn out and worthless.
In front of him, an old man sat on a tattered burlap sack. His body was thin, shirtless, wearing only a faded sarong. Around him, various dusty old items were scattered carelessly: a broom made of palm fibers, antique watches, headbands, hats, coins, and keys. Although they looked like mere junk, there was a strange aura surrounding these objects—something that made those who looked at them feel as if they were being watched by an unseen presence.
