Crossroads

The night market at Tempa Street was alive with illuminated shops and eateries, adorned with vintage-style billboards overhead. This area was a hub of street food stalls, each manned by local expert chefs with stir-fried seafood in large woks.

Despite the chilly winter streets, the atmosphere remained vibrant. Neon lights twinkled brightly around the bustling streets, where crowds moved about, enveloped in the fragrant aromas of sizzling dishes.

Stephanie wandered through the scene, curiosity evident in her gaze.

Perhaps due to her striking appearance or unconventional attire tonight, she caught the eye of diners at several food stalls, who openly praised her as she passed.

*Beautiful, are you interested in trying our signature set meal! I guarantee you'll find it delightfull" Suddenly, a jovial food stall owner beside her called out in the local language of Harlington.

Stephanie halted, turning to look at him.

Seeing the middle-aged, plump owner's friendly smile, even though she didn't understand his words, she knew well-fed chefs usually cooked well.

Hence, she nodded.

The tables and chairs of the street stalls were open-air, contrasting sharply with the refined formality of five-star hotels. Here, one could feel entirely at ease.

The tables around them were packed, creating a bustling scene. Laughter and the clinking of beer glasses filled the air as patrons savored their meals under the glow of flickering neon lights. At one corner table, several men were engrossed in conversation, their boisterous laughter punctuating the night as they enjoyed their dishes.

Stephanie fixated on them for a moment until they turned to glance back at her. Feeling self-conscious, she quickly averted her gaze.

"Have you ever eaten at a food stall before?"

The owner, named Loak Kai, approached with a menu in band.

"Our dishes, utensils, and seats are all clean and up to standard. But if you're looking for a five-star hotel experience, that's not what we offer. Life is about enjoying yourself, whether it's gourmet cuisine or simple meals," he chuckled warmly.

Stephanie blushed slightly, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at his candid remarks.

Not fluent in the local language of Harlington, she struggled to grasp the nuances of the language, but she could infer from his initial words that he was asking if she was unfamiliar with food stalls.

In truth, she had frequented food stalls before. It was during the early days after leaving Reed Villa when she lived modestly but found fascination in exploring new environments.

Her prolonged scrutiny of the men stemmed from a sudden realization that Dominick and his circle would never dine so openly and casually. Even his smiles were sparingly shared in public.

"Miss, how many of you!" Loak's interruption brought Stephanie back to the present. Her eyes widened slightly, betraying a hint of nervousness and awkwardness as she struggled to comprehend his words..

With a demeanor accustomed to eccentric customers, Look smiled gently and gestured toward the men's suit jacket draped over her shoulders. "Are you here with your boyfriend?" He held up two fingers, emphasizing his question.

Stephanie instinctively glanced down at the men's jacket she had borrowed from Vincent earlier.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

"I have another friend joining us soon," Stephanie replied. Loak, known for his cheerful and humorous disposition, initially worried about the language barrier and communication problems between them. Tempa Street in Harlington was renowned for its vibrant night market, often attracting foreigners, so Loak was eager to showcase his language skills.

He patted his chest with pride, his hearty laughter filling the air. "No worries, having many friends is good! Very good!"

Harlington locals often injected humor into their conversations, and Stephanie couldn't help but smile in response. Loak blushed slightly. motioning for a waitress to prepare a vacant table.

Stephanie thanked him and took the menu, quickly selecting a variety of dishes including their signature ones. She sat patiently; anticipating her miral amidst the bustling December night air, which brought a hint of Christmas spint mingled with a chill that made her shrink into the borrowed suit jacket.

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"Where did Vincent go?" Buffered by the wind, Stephanie muttered softly, tightening the jacket around her. She turned her head to the left, her brow furrowing as she scanned the area.

Unsure if it was a figment of her imagination, she felt a penetrating gaze from that direction. After scrutinizing the area, she found no trace of

Vincent.

The sparse pedestrian traffic in that direction was illuminated by a solitary black Ferrari parked under a streetlight.