[Chapter 4]

The bell above the store door jingled.

I ducked behind a shelf, peeking out just enough to see who had entered. It was a guy who looked about 38 years old, kind of chubby, wearing a hoodie and a cap, with both hands shoved into his pockets. Probably hiding a weapon-though who knows what kind. I guess we'd only find out once he took it out.

"This guy is totally not suspicious," I muttered sarcastically, my nerves tightening. I tried to stay quiet, realizing too late that I'd said it out loud-though not loud enough for the man to hear, hopefully.

The man walked up to the employee-Mo Longyan. He was probably about to execute his first move.

Mo looked up from his phone to greet him, polite as ever, but then-the man pulled out a knife.

A small one.

A... fruit knife?

(水果刀 shuǐguǒ dāo) = Fruit knife?

Who would risk everything to rob a 7-Eleven with a freaking fruit cutter?! Still, it was a blade-and a blade does what it's made to do, fruit or not.

Without realizing it, I stumbled out from my hiding spot, completely shocked by the absurdity. I stared at the guy.

He stared right back at me.

"Damn, this is so awkward," I muttered under my breath, eyes darting to the floor.

But the tension snapped when the man finally spoke.

"Oh, hello, buddy," the robber said with a weirdly casual tone. "How long were you there for~~?"

"Not long at all," I replied, trying to sound calm. "I suppose you're here to buy fruit for a late-night snack? And you're gonna use that fruit knife for that... right?"

While I talked, I heard another voice-like a low growl.

"Well, I was going to use this knife... but not on fruit. Hehe... haha... ah."

The robber's mouth didn't move.

Wait-was I hearing his thoughts?

No other explanation. I was... reading his mind?

The man started approaching me, and suddenly, I panicked. I grabbed a bag of chips off the shelf, tore it open, and in a moment of pure instinct-fueled madness, threw the chips at him like shuriken. In my head, it was epic:

"Chaos, cleverness, and snack-based justice."

...But in reality? Nothing happened. This wasn't a comic book. No powers. No anime effects. Just me, standing there like an idiot with crumbs on the floor.

I glanced over at Mo Longyan behind the counter. The man was still coming toward me slowly, menacingly. I think Mo was trying to tell me something-gestures, eye motions, subtle looks-but I've never been good at reading people's signals. Not when I was little, not now.

Then I heard another voice.

It sounded like Mo Longyan.

Another mind I could read. So maybe I didn't need to understand gestures after all.

Mo motioned toward the back room-probably the employee storage area.

"The employee room has a lock... I forgot to use it. I hope this guy knows what I'm signaling. That place should be safe enough until the police arrive. Staff usually alert them right away. 110-that's the police hotline. If he doesn't understand me though..."

Mo looked calm, but I could tell he was worried.

I, on the other hand, was freaking out. Still, knowing there was a place to hide helped. I could run there if the guy got too close. But... I didn't want to just save myself. That didn't feel right.

I grabbed the hot coffee I'd just prepared at the counter and suddenly, threw it.

I shifted aside just in time to avoid the splash as the hot liquid hit the robber in the face. His skin reddened instantly, and I saw the beginning signs of a burn.

The robber staggered back, screaming.

"Ahhh! It hurts! This little-this little bastard-he'll pay for this!"

He wiped the coffee from his face, livid, knife still in hand. His rage flared, ready to carve me up like melon slices.

I froze.

Three feet.

He was three feet away.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the worst-

CRACK.

A single step. A sharp pivot.

Mo Longyan's leg snapped out in a swift, controlled sidekick that landed squarely in the man's hip. The attacker flew backward, colliding with a rack of instant noodles in a loud crash.

I opened my eyes.

Mo stood over the fallen man.

Before the guy could even recover, Mo was already there-fluid, silent, efficient.

He dropped into a Tiger Stance, his weight low, center grounded like stone. His hands moved in perfect form-one sweeping the attacker's wrist aside, the other sliding under his elbow.

The storm had arrived.

And its name was Mo Longyan.