He then fumbled to pull out a tissue, trying to wipe the stain off the hem of my clothes.
When it became clear the stain would no't come off, his anxiety deepened and he knelt in front of me, bowing his head and begging for forgiveness.
It was winter and he was dressed only in a thin coat and sunglasses, but even so, they could not mask the bruises beneath his eyes.
I frowned, trying to push aside my own discomfort.
After that, I looked at the stained hem of my coat but felt no anger. My focus shifted to the bag, wiping it carefully with concern.
It happened to be seen by Harvey, who was used to going to work at the same time as me.
The Collins Group and the Rodrigo Group were separated by only one street.
So I could see he stood opposite, watching quietly on the scene. His face was cold and serious.
For the first time, I saw disgust in his eyes. Perhaps in his eyes, my condescending attitude was also a form of bullying.
I ignored his misunderstanding, took two steps back, reached out to stop the security guard who was coming, grabbed the young man's arm and pulled him up from the ground.