709 from a humble family

Sergei and Little Fatty arrived at an apartment where, it was said, the fallen noble had been living all along.

Even though his estate had been seized, he scraped by on his ancestors' wealth, remnants of past splendor.

With no job and daily expenses mounting, his life worsened year by year, much like Wang Xiao'er celebrating fewer and fewer blessings with each New Year.

"Maxim!" Sergei noticed his door wasn't shut, and the room was in disarray, filled with too much trash.

Maxim lay on the couch, clearly inebriated, still clutching a bottle of whiskey, appearing to have consumed plenty.

Sergei and Little Fatty approached Maxim, whose drunken demeanor seemed indifferent to the intrusion.

There wasn't a single valuable thing left in the house, presumably all sold off by Maxim.

"Who... who are you guys? Want a drink?" Maxim asked directly.

Little Fatty looked at Sergei, unsure of how to communicate, and moreover, Maxim seemed beyond help.