Kumaravel and the manager stood in front of Bernard, eyebrows raised in disbelief at the suggestion he'd just made. Bernard had proposed a backflip off the top of the building in exchange for a free meal, but it was clear neither of them was entirely sold on the idea.
The manager glanced at Kumaravel before turning back to Bernard, his eyes narrowing with thought. "A backflip's… okay," the manager said, stroking his mustache, "but it's not exactly what I'd call exciting. If we're going to give you a meal for free, it's gotta be something worthy of the effort. Maybe... something more extreme?"
Bernard perked up. "More extreme?" he echoed, his eyes widening in anticipation.
The manager nodded. "Yeah. Something that makes the crowd go 'wow.' If you can pull that off, maybe we'll talk about your meal being on the house."
Bernard's mind raced. More extreme than a backflip? He was already thinking through the possibilities when suddenly, Jiawei's voice rang out in his head, cutting through his thoughts.
"Ah, don't listen to these guys, Bernard," Jiawei said in a tone dripping with disdain. "They're just testing you, lah. Full of nothing but hateful doubters, y'know. You gotta prove them wrong, show them what you're made of."
Bernard nodded slowly to himself, seemingly lost in conversation, though neither Kumaravel nor the manager could hear what Jiawei was saying. He rubbed his chin, glancing from the manager to Kumaravel, his gaze flickering back and forth as Jiawei continued to speak.
"Don't let them look down on you, Bernard," Jiawei urged. "Do whatever it takes to shut them up. These guys think you're talking cock, but we'll show 'em."
Bernard muttered a quiet, "Yeah, you're right," under his breath, nodding in agreement with Jiawei.
Kumaravel, who had been watching Bernard's one-sided conversation with growing confusion, exchanged a look with the manager, who shrugged in response. The two of them stood there, baffled, as Bernard carried on his conversation with the invisible Jiawei.
Finally, Bernard turned back to them, a renewed sense of determination on his face. "Let's do this," he declared, a confident grin spreading across his face. "Whatever you've got in mind, I'll make it happen."
The manager blinked, taken aback by Bernard's sudden enthusiasm. "Right," he said after a beat, regaining his composure. He gestured toward the door. "Let's step outside and have a chat about what's possible, then."
Bernard eagerly followed the manager and Kumaravel toward the entrance of the restaurant. As they reached the door, the manager leaned in close to Kumaravel and whispered, "What do you think? You reckon he's serious?"
Kumaravel shook his head, his expression a mix of bewilderment and exasperation. "Aiyoh! I told you, lah, he was talking nothing but cock to me earlier," Kumaravel replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, his words thick with an inflected cadence.
The manager paused for a moment, staring at Kumaravel with furrowed brows, as if trying to process what he had just said. "Sorry, what did you say?"
Kumaravel opened his mouth to repeat himself, but the manager cut him off, shaking his head with a sigh. "You know what? Whatever. Just get the customers to gather outside. Tell them they'll have dining and a show."
Kumaravel nodded, though he still wore an uncertain expression. He was beginning to regret ever getting involved in this strange exchange. But an order was an order, so he made his way back inside.
Inside Arnold's Fried Chicken, the atmosphere remained lively. People were chatting over their meals, most of them too focused on their food to pay much attention to what had just unfolded between Bernard and the staff. A few glances were cast toward Bernard at the counter, but no one seemed particularly interested in the bizarre conversation.
Kumaravel began to weave through the restaurant, making his way from table to table. His expression was a mixture of forced enthusiasm and disbelief as he tried to sell the idea to the customers. "Uh, excuse me, madam," he said to one woman who was sitting with her family, "we're about to 'ave a little show outside, lah. You can enjoy your food and watch some free entertainment. Maybe step outside for a few minutes, yah?"
The woman looked up, confused. "A show? What kind of show? You performing for me boy?"
Kumaravel smiled tightly, clearly unsure of how to explain. "Ah… you know, something special. Aiyoh, just come, I promise it'll be good."
As Kumaravel moved from one table to the next, trying to persuade people to step outside, he could feel the eyes of the restaurant patrons following him. Some seemed intrigued by the idea of a free show, while others looked at him as though he were mad. But bit by bit, a small crowd began to gather outside the restaurant, murmurs of curiosity rippling through the group.
Back outside, Bernard was standing at the base of the restaurant, looking up at the rooftop with a determined expression on his face. Jiawei's voice filled his head, egging him on.
"Make them remember you, Bernard. Do something that they'll never forget. You've got this. This is your moment."
Feeling the pressure and excitement mounting, Bernard took a deep breath. He cracked his knuckles, preparing himself for the stunt, only to wince immediately as a sharp pain shot through his hand. He grabbed his wrist, rubbing the knuckles with an awkward grin as he tried to shake off the discomfort. For a second, he stood there, holding his hand gingerly, clearly regretting the impulsive knuckle crack.
A couple of onlookers chuckled, watching as Bernard gave his hand a few more shakes, trying to play it cool. He glanced around, his sheepish smile betraying the slight embarrassment. Jiawei's voice returned, chuckling lightly. "Don't mind that little hiccup, Bernard. They won't be laughing very soon." he straightened his posture, puffing out his chest, and refocused on the task ahead.
Bernard nodded to himself, excitement surging through his veins once again, even as his knuckles throbbed. The pain was secondary now. All around him, customers began to trickle out of the restaurant, gathering in small groups to watch whatever was about to unfold.
Inside, Kumaravel continued his rounds, speaking to customers who were still seated. "Excuse me, sir, ma'am," he said to a couple who were busy enjoying their fried chicken. "We 'ave a special show happening outside. It'll only take a few minutes, lah. Why don't you come out and take a look?"
The man raised an eyebrow. "What? A show? What show?"
Kumaravel hesitated. "Ah… it's something to do with… parkour. You'll see. Just come outside, you don't want to miss it."
Intrigued, the couple nodded, grabbing their drinks before heading for the door. Slowly but surely, more customers followed suit, some curious about the commotion, others simply wanting a break from their meals.
As the crowd gathered outside, the atmosphere shifted. What had started as a regular night at Arnold's Fried Chicken was turning into an impromptu spectacle. Phones were out, cameras were rolling, and murmurs of excitement spread through the group.
Kumaravel, watching from a distance, shook his head in disbelief. "Aiyoh, what 'ave we gotten ourselves into," he muttered under his breath, barely able to process the sheer absurdity of the situation.
The manager, however, wore a slight smirk as he leaned against the doorframe. "Well, at least it's good for business," he remarked, gesturing toward the crowd. "Who knew we'd have dinner and a show tonight?"