CHAPTER 18: Forgotten Memory

"Could you please stop bothering me?" I grumbled through a mouthful of food, giving him my best glare.

He just flashed me that maddening, crooked grin. I noticed he was wearing his black face mask again, probably terrified someone might recognize him out in the open.

"Not a chance. I'm actually curious about what you're eating. I want to try it."

I arched an eyebrow. Was this guy for real? Had he seriously never eaten street food before?

"I couldn't care less about what you want, so just leave me the hell alone," I snapped, taking a step backward to put some distance between us.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

I narrowed my eyes into slits. "Then what do you call standing right there? You know, if there weren't so many witnesses around, I would've slammed you onto the concrete by now."

A soft chuckle escaped his throat. "I really love that mouth of yours."

When I finished with my first skewer, I pointed the sharp wooden stick straight at his face. "You want me to poke your eye out with this?"

He took a quick step back, though that cheeky, annoying smile stayed firmly planted under his mask. "Chill out. I'm just here to get something to eat, okay?" he said, holding his palm up defensively against the sharp tip.

I glared daggers at him.

Chuckling under his breath, he turned away from me to face the vendor.

"Excuse me, boss, how much is this?" he asked.

"Ah, the isaw? Ten pesos a stick, sir."

"I'll take one."

He grabbed an isaw stick and was about to shove it straight into his mouth when I cut in.

"Hold on!"

He paused, turning to look at me in confusion. "What? You want a piece?" He offered the stick toward me, but I just rolled my eyes.

"Dip it in the vinegar first before you eat it. Are you completely clueless?" I asked frankly.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I literally told you this is my first time eating this stuff," he muttered in defense.

I just scoffed.

He actually followed my advice, dunking the fried isaw deep into the jar of seasoned vinegar. But the second he bit into it and started chewing, he immediately spat it out onto the ground.

"Pfft! What the hell is this? This tastes awful!" he barked out. His face contorted into an expression of sheer disgust, looking like he had just swallowed poison.

He tossed the rest of the stick straight into the dirt. I barely had time to process his drama before he turned on his heel and started yelling directly at the vendor.

"Hey! If you're going to sell food that tastes this foul, don't even bother opening a stall! You're just wasting people's money!" he shouted.

My temper instantly detonated. This bastard had the nerve to preach to me about manners the other day, yet here he was, acting like an absolute asshole with zero respect.

"Do you have any idea what that tasted like? It tasted like literal garbage—OW!"

He clutched the back of his neck, wincing hard from the forceful smack I delivered to the base of his head.

He whipped around to face me, his features twisted in genuine fury. "What the hell is your problem?!" he barked into my face.

I tossed my empty wooden stick into a nearby trash bin, reached out, and grabbed him firmly by his hoodie collar, dragging him away from the food stall. He tried to dig his heels into the pavement, but I hit him with a look so menacing that he had no choice but to let me tow him along.

I dragged him all the way to a quiet, deserted corner of the park before finally shooing him off.

I folded my arms across my chest and hit him with a lethal glare.

"What is wrong with you?" he complained, adjusting his collar. "I wasn't done putting that vendor in his place. He's probably out here trying to poison people."

A bitter, disbelieving laugh escaped my lips. "You know, you had the nerve to tell me I lacked manners..." I began, my tone dripping with cold sarcasm. "But looking at the two of us, you're the one who was raised in a gutter."

"Manners? What was wrong with what I said? I was just being honest before someone else eats that hot garbage," he argued.

No matter how much he tried to justify it, his logic was completely warped.

"Do you even know what you just ate? That's isaw," I said, cutting him off before he could slide another word in. "To me, and to a lot of other normal people, it's delicious. Just because your spoiled palate doesn't like the taste doesn't mean everyone else feels the same way. People have different tastes, do you understand basic human logic?"

"Tsk. Still, that vendor needed to know—"

I slapped my hand straight over his mouth to shut him up. "Were you raised by wolves? If food isn't your thing, you say it politely or you keep your mouth shut if you don't have anything good to say."

He glared down at me over my hand and pulled away. "Just because I called out terrible food means I don't have manners? Is it so hard to believe I was just concerned for the next customer?"

I shook my head in utter disbelief. Was this how rich people's brains worked, just completely dense and detached from reality?

Isn't that exactly how you used to act back when you still had money? a quiet voice in the back of my mind suddenly whispered.

The suddenly a sharp, sudden throbbing hit the side of my temple, and a blurry, forgotten memory flickered across my brain.

"Give it a try, it's really good."

"You better not be lying. If this tastes bad, I'm going to stab you with this stick."

"If you like it, you have to be my servant for a day."

"In your dreams, asshole!"

"HEY!"

The sudden flash of memory vanished as quickly as it came, shattered by a hand waving frantically in front of my face.

"What's wrong with you? Did you finally realize I was right and choke on your own pride?"

Snapping back to reality, I scoffed at his arrogant face and crossed my arms tighter.

"I am never going to agree with a word coming out of your mouth," I shot back. "Isaw is great, it's not poisonous, and you're just being a dramatic, entitled brat."

"Dramatic? I'm being realistic! What if someone actually gets food poisoning from that cart?" he argued, refusing to back down. The stubborn edge in his voice was insufferable.

"I've been eating street food my whole life and I'm still breathing, so do me a favor," I barked at him. "Next time something doesn't suit your royal taste buds, don't automatically assume it's toxic, you idiot."

It was common sense. He let his dramatic ego take over without giving a second thought to how badly he might have hurt that vendor's livelihood.

He just glared at me, utterly baffled that I wasn't buying into his ridiculous excuses.

I shook my head and turned away from him. What else could I expect from an arrogant pervert who had no decency at all?

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" he called out behind me. "I'm not finished talking to you."

I raised a hand and casually scratched inside my ear, signaling just how little I cared about anything he had to say.

"Just so you know, my offer is still on the table!"

Offer? Was this bastard serious? He was still pushing that disgusting proposition?

He really had a death wish.

I turned around to throw one last look over my shoulder. "Keep waiting until your balls rot off, because I am never touching you, asshole!" I yelled at the top of my lungs before sprinting away as fast as my legs could carry me.

This time, I didn't hear his footsteps behind me. I let out a long, heavy breath of relief.

Good. The bastard finally gave up. Because if he had kept pushing, I wouldn't have hesitated to blast his stupid face all the way to Mars and feed him to my alien friends.

Hmm... actually, why didn't I just punch him right then and there?

Damn, I really missed the opportunity. Arghh so annoying!