The air was thick with the mouthwatering smell of crispy batter and grilled octopus as the takoyaki joint bustled with people. But guess what? Everyone's eyes were glued to me—or rather, to the chaos I somehow managed to stir up—instead of the food. You could literally slice through that tension with a katana. Alepou was giving me a death stare like I owed her a ten-page essay, arms folded and all. And honestly? I didn't have a damn word to say. One minute it was all wild commotion, and the next I was getting death glares like I'd just declared myself ruler of the planet.
Then, out of nowhere—GRRRRROOOOOOWWWLLL.
No, that wasn't a subtle rumble—it was a full-blown beast's howl from the bottom of my empty stomach. The whole place went quiet for a hot second. Even Alepou flinched a bit, I swear. It felt like my soul was trying to bail me out of a total meltdown. I glanced at the counter, expecting a plate of takoyaki I'd ordered an hour ago. One. Complete. Hour. Now, those damn treats had turned into nothing more than tiny, burnt orbs of charcoal, like someone had tossed 'em on the grill and said, "Yeah, this'll do." I wasn't feeling too hot.
I mean, I'm seriously not feeling well. Finally, Alepou breaks the silence with a blunt, "Well?"
I blink, totally confused. "Well, what?"
She snaps, "You shoved me."
Hold up—what? In my head I'm screaming, "What the fuck?! I didn't shove you!"
She squints, "You expect me to believe that? Then who did?"
I'm trying to piece it all together, but nothing makes sense right now—especially when I'm on the verge of fainting from hunger. "Alright, listen," I wave my hand dismissively, "we can figure that out later. But first—food."
I stomp over to the counter where Marco, the takoyaki guy, is frantically cleaning up like he's performing a miracle. I lean in and say, "Marco, my dude, we've got a serious problem." His eyes go wide as fuck. "Problem?" he stutters. I point at the plate of charred shit and yell, "THIS. THIS IS THE PROBLEM."
Marco shifts uncomfortably. "Ah… yeah, things got kinda crazy, and—"
"Marco," I cut him off, barely holding back my annoyance, "I've been waiting for an hour. I'm starving here, man. Crisis-level hunger, you get it?"
He gulps and mutters, "I—I can make a new batch."
I lean against the counter and growl, "Good. Make it fast, and for fuck's sake, don't burn 'em this time."
As Marco scrambles off, I try to collect my scattered thoughts. Alepou's still looming behind me, arms folded like she's waiting for an explanation, while the nobles circle around, probably scheming how to kick us out without causing a scene. Even that elderly prick from earlier looks like he's aged a decade from worry.
Meanwhile, I'm just battling my hunger. After what feels like an eternity—okay, three agonizing minutes—Marco finally returns with a fresh dish of takoyaki. Golden. Crispy. Damn near perfect. The aroma alone soothes me more than any damn medicine. I grab a piece and shove it in my mouth before it cools down—pure, unadulterated bliss. That satisfying crunch on the outside, the tender, saucy inside... for a brief moment, nothing else mattered—not the mystery shove, not the drama, not even the prissy nobles. It was just me and my takoyaki, lost in a tiny pocket of happiness.
Eventually, my body relaxes and I let out a deep, relieved sigh. Alepou raises an eyebrow from across the table, "Feel better now?"
With my mouth still full, I manage a muffled, "Mmmfhm."
She laughs softly, "Good. 'Cause once you're done, you're explaining everything."
Damn right. I look around—at Alepou, the nobles, even that worried old man—and I know something seriously off is going on here. But you know what? After I eat, I'll sort it all out. Sometimes, man, food comes first—no matter how fucked up everything else gets.