"Here is your one plate of egg fried rice," A man with slightly tanned skin, short black hair, and a large pot belly said with a smile as he handed a packed plate of rice to a middle-aged man.
"This street used to be so lively during the lunch hour. But now..." The middle-aged man sighed as he took the package of rice.
"Other than staying at home to keep themselves safe, what can normal people like us even do in this situation?" The pot-bellied shop owner smiled bitterly. "I just hope the security forces solve the matter of these kidnappings quickly. Otherwise, at this rate, I might have to shut down the shop and do something else to earn a livelihood."
"My situation is the same. If things don't change soon, the company I work for might also fire some people to lighten the burden," The middle-aged man said with a shake of his head before turning to leave. "See you tomorrow, boss. If I still have my job by then, that is."
The shop owner watched the man leave and glanced around, only to see a few pedestrians hurrying along the street.
He remained seated at his shop, moving occasionally when a customer came to buy something.
Just like that, a few hours passed, and it was already close to four o'clock.
The shop owner looked at the streets, which were even more deserted than before, and shook his head as he stood up, intending to close the shop for the day.
Just as he was about to shut the place, he saw a young man with black hair and striking purple eyes, wearing casual jeans and a white shirt walking towards his shop.
"Uncle, give me the best thing you have here," The young man said loudly.
The shop owner paused, staring at the youth strangely.
"You are alone?" He asked with a frown.
The young man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked around before replying with a question of his own. "Do you see anyone else with me?"
The shop owner's mouth twitched at the young man's response, and he sighed.
"Look, kid, it's not safe outside. You should hurry back home. Your parents must be worried about you."
"I know it's not safe outside," The young man nodded. "That's why I am telling you to give me your best dish quickly, so I can go back."
The shop owner stared at him for a few seconds before walking into the shop.
"Do you like sweet and sour ribs?"
"As long as they're tasty, I like everything," The young man said as he sat down on the side bench.
The shop owner soon returned with a plate of juicy ribs dripping with sauce.
"These ribs are my specialty. Eat quickly, then go back."
The young man's eyes lingered on the ribs, and he was about to take a bite when he suddenly paused, as if remembering something.
"By the way, Uncle, I don't have any money to pay for these ribs. Can I still eat them?"
The shop owner, who had just turned to head back froze. His fat body trembled slightly as he looked back at the young man with a deep frown.
"Do you think I'm running a charity here? If you didn't have money, why did you even come here to eat?"
The young man remained silent at those words.
The shop owner opened his mouth to say something more, but seeing that the boy was still silent, he rubbed his eyebrows and sighed heavily.
"Just eat them and scram from here," He said coldly before turning back towards the shop.
"It seems that, other than you, there really isn't anyone else here."
Just as he turned, he caught the young man mumbling. For original chapters go to novel~fire~net
"What are you mumbling about?" The shop owner asked with a frown, glancing over his shoulder.
The young man didn't answer. Instead, he stood up. His previously cheerful and somewhat annoying expression vanished, replaced with complete indifference as he stared at the man.
"Although I am really curious as to why a Class-level warrior like you, who is a member of the Transcendent Organization is working here like a normal person, I know you wouldn't tell me anything if I just asked, right?"
The shop owner's fat body trembled slightly at Azrael's words, though he quickly forced himself to return to normal.
He turned fully to face Azrael.
"What are you talking about? What Class-level warrior? What Transcendent Organization?"
Azrael didn't answer, his cold, indifferent gaze fixed firmly on the man.
Using his Infinite Comprehension and Cold-Blooded trait, he sensed the man's emotions clearly. Beneath his forced calm, he was panicking, nervous, and brimming with fear. From the man's micro body movements, Azrael even noticed that he was preparing to attack at any moment.
"I'll give you two options," Azrael said, stepping forward. "First, you walk back into the shop on your own. Second, I drag your half-dead body back inside. Choose."
The shop owner instinctively stepped back as Azrael approached.
"Seeing that you are not going inside on your own, I'll take it you've chosen the second option," Azrael said with a shake of his head.
"Don't mess with me, you bastard!" The shop owner suddenly roared and a deep blue, water-like energy gathered in the palm of his hand.
He raised his arm to strike at Azrael. However—
Just before he could attack, a sharp purple wind blade sliced across his chest.
The cut wasn't deep, and no blood flowed out, but because of Azrael's astral attribute, the pot-bellied man felt an excruciating, soul-piercing pain and the energy he had gathered dissipated instantly.
Before he could even scream from the agony tearing through his soul—
"You should sleep for a while," He heard Azrael's cold voice from behind and the next moment—
A heavy punch landed at the back of his head, smashing him to the ground and knocking him unconscious instantly.
Azrael looked down at the unconscious man and gave a faint nod.
'I was afraid he might die from the curse Glen mentioned, but it seems certain conditions must be met to trigger it,' He thought before waving his hand.
A gust of wind swirled around the fat man, dragging his limp body back into the shop.
Azrael followed, and once inside, he pulled down the shop's shutter, closing it.