Ever since he took the job of collecting tax money, his pool of friends have slowly dwindled into nothing. It’s the only job where he can get rich while losing friends, even if he includes the ‘friends’ who only liked him for his money. He’d known it at the time, but he took the job anyway.
His hands now permanently smell of money and the smell follows him, so much so that he refuses to shake anyone else’s hands. It keeps him safe and comfortable, so he can return to a room where all he does is count what he has.
One day, he hears of a prophet with a silver tongue and golden knowledge, and it piques his interest. What’s he like; a man that’s valued like money? For once, he doesn’t wait for money to be handed to him, and discovers that money never determines a person’s value, but rather it’s a person’s values that determine what money is.