Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, under the same morning sun, life on the quay was already in full swing. The ocean glittered beyond the promenade, and the avenue beside it was lined with small city stalls, each offering something different – pastries, grilled fish, sweets, steaming dough, spices drifting through the warm air. Vendors chatted as they opened their stands when suddenly one of them pointed down the street and called out, Gobby’s coming. Everyone get ready.

A cheerful, slightly dancing chubby boy appeared among the morning crowd, wearing a bright T-shirt and a funny-looking schoolbag. The vendors immediately recognized him. Everyone knew exactly why he came here – he was searching for something delicious. It was obvious he was one of their favorite customers. As he passed the stalls, voices rose from every direction: Want to try something from my stand today? – Fresh pastries here! – Best sweets on the quay!

Gobby smiled politely, thanked everyone, but continued forward with clear determination. Some vendors pretended to be offended, while others called after him, Tell us later where you stopped and how good it was! Soon the whole street turned it into a game, placing friendly bets on where Gobby would end up eating that day.

Then suddenly he froze. A smell cut through the noise of the street. Gobby turned sharply toward a bakery window and pressed himself against the glass with wide eyes. Today I choose… Empanadas de Pino!

The vendors repeated the name in chorus. Empanadas de Pino! Bets were settled immediately and several voices groaned in mock disappointment. The baker, spotting Gobby at the window, lit up with joy and threw open the door. Today is a blessed day! Thank God my shop was chosen!

He welcomed Gobby inside like an honored guest. Gobby, what would you like to see today?

I want to hear everything about the fillings.

The baker enthusiastically began describing every pastry and how it had been prepared. Gobby listened with complete seriousness and then started announcing his choices, calling every single pastry Empanadas de Pino, simply adding the filling: Empanadas de Pino with chocolate! – Empanadas de Pino with caramel!

To him every filled pastry was Empanadas de Pino, ever since he had heard the name once on a cooking show and decided it was the most delicious phrase in existence.

After spending all his money on pastries, Gobby left the bakery radiating happiness. The vendors waved and called after him, See you tomorrow, Gobby! Walking along the promenade, he took a bite of one pastry and a drop of jam immediately landed on his favorite T-shirt – the one proudly reading I am Gobby.

He stopped in confusion. The half-eaten pastry was in one hand, a bag full of pastries in the other, and now jam was spreading across the fabric. For a moment he stood there completely lost, trying to decide where to put the pastry, how to hold the bag, and how to wipe the stain at the same time.

Then a sound cut through the noise of the street.

A child’s desperate cry. A kitten’s sharp, frightened wail. And cruel laughter.

Gobby immediately forgot about the T-shirt.

There were only two things in the world he loved more than anything: delicious food… and animals.

He turned toward the alley and walked quickly toward the sound. As he approached, the voices became clearer, the laughter harsher. Then he saw what was happening. A boy lay curled on the ground, shielding a box with his body. A thin exhausted cat stood beside it, hissing weakly. Three teenagers loomed above him. The bullies were laughing so loudly they never even noticed Gobby approaching.

The girl raised the stick again and swung down with all her strength. The blow landed – but not where she expected. Instead of the boy, the stick struck something solid. A broad back suddenly filled the space in front of her. The end of the stick scraped across a thick neck, leaving a shallow scratch, while the rest of the blow bounced off a bright T-shirt and a bulky schoolbag.

Without even glancing at the bullies, Gobby stepped forward, passed them, and crouched beside the boy, completely shielding him with his large frame. He placed a hand gently on the boy’s back. You’re a brave one. Protecting the weak like that. Noticing the terror in the boy’s eyes, the first idea that came to him was simple. He pulled a pastry from the bag and held it out. Want one?

For a moment the alley fell silent. The sheer absurdity of what had just happened froze the bullies in place. The first to recover was the boy who had spat earlier. He burst out laughing and pointed at the girl. Cate, you’re unbelievable. Maybe you should stop swinging that stick. Every time you do, some half-baked hero shows up. Who’s next, Superman? The others joined in, laughing loudly.

The second boy snatched the stick from the girl’s hands. Hey, fatso. Where do you think you’re going? He swung the stick threateningly in front of Gobby, trying to scare him, but there was no reaction. No movement. No fear. Irritated, he began whipping the stick across Gobby’s back with sharp snapping sounds. The blows landed again and again, but Gobby didn’t even flinch.

The girl shoved the boys aside, clearly losing patience, and pointed toward a nearby trash bin. The second boy rummaged inside and pulled out an empty beer can. He held it up. The girl nodded approvingly. A second later the can flew through the air and struck Gobby squarely on the head, splashing the remaining beer all over him – and all over his favorite T-shirt.

Gobby quickly stuffed the half-eaten pastry and the bag of pastries into the boy’s hands, jumped to his feet, and began frantically wiping the spreading stain. The bullies howled with laughter. When he finally realized the stain was hopeless and that only washing could save the shirt, he lifted his head and looked at them. Please leave.

Screw you, fatso, the girl snapped, ordering the others to keep going.

Inside Gobby’s mind a quick calculation flashed by. If they continued, the shirt would be torn, the pastries would end up on the ground, and the boy and the kittens would suffer even more. Something shifted inside him. Sweat broke across his forehead. His breathing changed – short inhalations, long steady exhalations. His skin flushed deep red as the temperature of his body seemed to rise. Before the bullies’ eyes his body tightened, shrinking slightly as veins and tendons stood out sharply beneath the skin.

Then he moved.

In a single explosive burst he lunged forward and drove his shoulder into the boy standing by the trash bin like a rugby tackle. The impact slammed the bully into the metal container and knocked him unconscious instantly.

The second boy turned and ran – but Gobby was already behind him. A sharp strike to the legs sent the runner airborne. Two powerful hands caught him mid-fall and smashed him down onto the pavement. Another body lay still.

Gobby slowly turned toward the girl. She backed away, panic replacing arrogance. You can’t hit a girl, she pleaded desperately. Boys aren’t supposed to hit girls!

Gobby stepped closer and grabbed both her wrists in a crushing grip. She winced in pain and instantly understood she wasn’t escaping. He leaned in close, almost nose to nose with her, clearly preparing to say something dramatic – but before he could speak she spat directly into his face.

Gobby wiped his cheek slowly. People like you only understand fear and power.

Without warning he slammed his forehead straight into the bridge of her nose. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her face and groaning in pain.

For a few seconds Gobby stood completely still, as if checking something inside himself. Then he turned toward the boy and smiled warmly. It’s all good now.

But the moment he said it, he glanced behind him and suddenly frowned. Aw… come on. How did that happen?