Chapter 442: The French Fry Incident
"Boss, one large serving, please! I want both ketchup and that... honey mustard sauce!" Stelle ordered happily. She carefully lifted Pom-Pom, who was curiously craning their neck to inspect the bustling surroundings, and settled the fluffy conductor onto a cleaner crate nearby.
The owner of the French fry stall appeared to be an entirely ordinary young man. He wore a slightly greasy apron and kept a standard, practiced businessman's smile plastered across his face.
However, as Dan Heng approached, his sharp gaze immediately caught a fleeting flash of unnatural tension buried deep in the man's eyes.
The owner poured a batch of frozen fries into the bubbling oil with noticeably stiff, mechanical movements. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept darting quick, anxious glances toward the base gate before snapping his attention back to the fryer.
Soon enough, a paper bag overflowing with a small mountain of golden-fried potatoes was handed over to Stelle. Generous drizzles of vibrant red ketchup and yellow honey mustard coated the top.
"Wow! Thanks, boss!" Stelle's eyes sparkled. Unable to wait, she plucked a piping hot fry from the peak of the pile, blew on it twice to cool the steaming surface, and tossed it directly into her mouth.
Even in her food-fueled excitement, she didn't forget her companion. Using her free hand, she pulled a clean wooden skewer from the side of the bag, pierced a few sauce-covered fries, and held them out to Dan Heng. "Are you really not having any? They're the most fragrant right out of the fryer! Just try one!"
Watching Stelle's enthusiastic sharing, Dan Heng glanced at the fries. They did look undeniably crispy and tempting. He hesitated for a brief moment, then finally reached out to take the skewer.
However, just as his fingertips brushed the wood, he noticed something wrong. The hand Stelle was using to hold the bag... was trembling.
It wasn't a tremble born of scalding heat or culinary excitement. It was a subtle, rigid quiver radiating pure shock and deep dissatisfaction.
A second later, the blissful, satisfied expression on Stelle's face completely shattered. Her brows knit together in a tight, fierce scowl.
With a loud ptui, she spat the half-chewed potato directly onto the ground. An undisguised look of absolute betrayal and anger washed over her features.
"What is this?!" Stelle's voice shot up an entire octave, turning heads nearby. Holding up the bitten fry like a piece of damning evidence, she glared daggers at the stall owner. "These fries aren't cooked through at all! They're completely raw on the inside! They're rock hard and taste like literal raw dirt! How do you even run a business, boss? Do you have any idea how to fry a potato?!"
The air in front of the snack cart seemed to instantly freeze. Heavy beads of cold sweat rolled down the young owner's forehead, glistening conspicuously under the bright sunlight.
The muscles in his cheeks twitched with stiff, jerky spasms. He tried desperately to squeeze out an apologetic, customer-service smile, but the resulting grimace looked far worse than if he had just burst into tears.
Internally, his heart was drowning in an endless sea of grievance and frustration. Heaven knew he was just a standard field agent who had been forcefully press-ganged into this ridiculous assignment!
His superior's strict orders had come down the chain of command, requiring him to maintain close-proximity surveillance on this strange warehouse. But when he had snuck inside to investigate the premises last night, he found absolutely nothing. His memory only retained the dusty, echoing emptiness of the abandoned building. After reporting his findings, he had been mercilessly chewed out for incompetence.
Time was incredibly tight, and the surveillance mission had to continue. In a state of sheer panic, he had hastily procured this second-hand snack cart, hoping to use the identity of a street vendor as a perfect cover to observe the area for a few more days and dig up some actual clues.
Who could have possibly guessed that this dilapidated old warehouse—which all their preliminary investigations clearly labeled as completely empty—would suddenly have people casually strolling out of its front doors?
And not just normal people. These were two young individuals radiating clearly extraordinary, dangerous auras, accompanied by a Bangboo that looked entirely unique and highly customized.
What made him want to weep even more was the sheer unfairness of it all. The port terminal was massive. There were several other 'colleagues' stationed nearby, all disguised as various vendors or loitering passersby with ulterior motives. So why did this chaotic young woman have to make a beeline straight for his stall?
When Stelle's bright golden eyes had locked onto him with pure, unadulterated anticipation for junk food, his brain—having never actually cooked a proper meal in his life—completely short-circuited. He could only operate in a blind fluster, desperately relying on the rote-memorized steps from his agency's emergency survival training.
Frying temperature? Cooking time? He was winging it entirely by feeling! He had somehow managed to produce a batch of fries that looked golden, crispy, and excellent on the outside. He had secretly breathed a massive sigh of relief, genuinely believing he had gotten away with his culinary crime.
He never expected the fatal flaw to be hidden on the inside. They were completely raw.
He was just an intelligence agent! Why did he have to suffer this excruciating double torture of body and mind? What on earth was his superior thinking, forcing a trained field operative to execute a deep-cover street food mission?
Facing Stelle's loud, undisguised interrogation, and feeling the silent, immensely heavy pressure radiating from the black-haired young man standing beside her, the owner's psychological defenses completely shattered.
Wearing a thoroughly mournful expression, he began to explain himself incoherently, his voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. "I-I'm truly sorry, customer! I... I really am just setting up a stall for the very first time! I was too nervous, and I panicked... I didn't master the heat control! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"
As he babbled his apologies, acting as if he wanted nothing more than to escape this waking nightmare as quickly as humanly possible, he scrambled to yank a bulging wallet from the hidden pocket beneath his greasy apron.
Without even looking at the denominations, he pulled out a massive, thick stack of high-value currency bills. He didn't bother counting them—it was easily over a hundred thousand—and frantically shoved the entire wad into Stelle's hands, completely ignoring the fact that she was still holding the bag of problematic fries.
"I'll refund you! Double... no, just take all of this! I'm truly sorry!" the owner pleaded, his tone bordering on outright begging. All the while, his panicked eyes darted anxiously toward his fellow 'colleagues' operating the neighboring snack stalls.
"If you're still hungry, customer, just... just try the stalls nearby! Their... their culinary skills are definitely much better than mine!"
The absolute second those words left his mouth, the several undercover agents disguised as nearby vendors felt a collective, icy chill shoot straight down their spines.
'Damn it! You've completely exposed yourself, and now you want to drag the rest of us down with you?!'
They hurriedly lowered their heads one after another, pretending to be intensely focused on stirring the bubbling pots of food in front of them. Others abruptly turned away to stare blankly at the scenery, desperately wishing they could draw a physical line in the sand between themselves and this traitorous teammate.
Stelle stood there, holding the massive stack of currency in one hand and the raw fries in the other. She frowned deeply, opening her mouth as if she wanted to continue her lecture on proper food preparation.
Right at that moment, Dan Heng's calm, measured voice cut through the tension. "Forget it, Stelle."
Dan Heng took a half-step forward. His cool, piercing gaze swept over the profusely sweating stall owner, then drifted toward the surrounding 'vendors' who were acting glaringly unnatural. Finally, his eyes settled back on Stelle.
"We are here to explore the Hollow. Let's not waste any more time here," he stated, his tone completely indifferent to the undercover circus surrounding them.
Pom-Pom, still perched on the clean wooden crate, chimed in at the perfect moment. "That's right, Passenger Stelle! This owner has already apologized and provided ample compensation, Pom. Looking at him, he really is just a clumsy novice. Don't make things too difficult for him, Pom!"
Stelle pursed her lips, weighing her options. With a dramatic sigh, she tossed the bag of undercooked fries straight into a nearby trash can, then happily stuffed the massive stack of cash into her coat pocket.
"Fine, fine." Stelle clapped her hands together, her cheerful energy instantly returning. "It's really pointless to bicker with these totally unprofessional guys anyway. Earning Gear Coins is way more important! Let's go, let's go! Pom-Pom, Dan Heng, let's set off!"
She scooped Pom-Pom back into her arms and strode confidently toward the swirling entrance of the Epis Port Hollow, acting as if the bizarre little interlude had never even happened.
Dan Heng adjusted his posture and strode forward to catch up with her. As he passed the fry stall one last time, his sharp gaze swept over the nearly collapsed owner with a deeply meaningful look, though he didn't utter a single word.
It wasn't until the three distinct figures completely disappeared around the sharp corner of the container terminal that the fry stall owner's legs finally gave out. He slumped heavily against his cart, nearly collapsing onto the concrete ground. He let out a long, shuddering exhale, feeling as though he had just barely crawled out of a Hollow with a lethal Ether concentration.
He exchanged exhausted glances with his fellow 'colleagues' across the street. In each of their eyes, he saw the exact same reflection of lingering fear and deep helplessness.
This surveillance mission was going to be far, far harder to survive than any of them had imagined.
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