Chapter : 28

  Beside Ken, the skinny boy named Love suddenly stopped breathing. His eyes went wide with pure panic. He quickly lowered his head, staring hard at his own shoes.

  Neil, the giant guy who had just been laughing a second ago, instantly hunched his wide shoulders forward. He took a slow step backward, trying to press his massive body flat against the wall, hoping to become invisible.

  "Oh no," Love whispered, his voice shaking. "Don't look at him, Ken. Just look at the floor."

  Ken blinked lazily. He did not look at the floor. Instead, he popped the tiny sandwich into his mouth, chewed slowly, and looked right at the approaching rich kid.

  "Why?" Ken asked, his mouth still half-full. "Who is the guy in the shiny red pajamas?"

  "That is Zefar," Neil whispered quickly, his deep voice trembling. "He is the son of a very powerful Senator in the capital. And worse, he is a top-ranking servant for the 5th Prince. The 5th Prince is one of the strongest Royals in the entire war. Zefar thinks he owns this entire building."

  Ken swallowed his food and let out a small sigh. "Great," he thought to himself. "Another guy with a giant ego and a terrible personality. I swear, they mass-produce these guys in a factory somewhere. Why is he walking over here? We are literally standing in the most boring corner of the room."

  Zefar did not stop until he was standing just two feet away from Ken. He crossed his arms over his expensive red silk chest. He did not look at Neil or Love. His sharp, angry eyes were completely locked onto Ken. Zefar looked Ken up and down, taking in the cheap, wrinkled servant uniform, the wildly untucked shirt, and the completely crooked tie.

  Zefar’s nose crinkled up in disgust, as if he had just smelled rotten milk.

  "What is a peasant doing here?" Zefar sneered. His voice was loud, echoing slightly in the sudden quiet of the room. The other nobles nearby turned their heads to watch, eager to see some drama. "You smell like dirt."

  The room went completely silent. Nobody moved. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a sword. Love looked like he was about to pass out from fear. Neil squeezed his eyes shut. They both knew that if a noble decided to beat up a commoner, nobody in this room would step in to stop it.

  Any normal commoner would have immediately dropped to their knees and apologized. They would have begged for forgiveness just for existing in the same room as a Senator's son.

  But Ken was not a normal commoner. He was the strongest mage on the planet, and he was currently annoyed that his snack time was being interrupted.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Ken looked at Zefar calmly. His sleepy eyes didn't show a single ounce of fear. He slowly lifted his arm and sniffed his own sleeve. He took a long, dramatic sniff.

  "Dirt?" Ken asked, looking genuinely confused. He dropped his arm and gave Zefar a goofy, relaxed smile. "No, I don't think that is dirt, man. I think that is barbecue potato chip dust. I ate a whole bag in the car on the way here. It is a very strong flavor. But honestly, I think it smells pretty good! It is like a smoky, onion-y perfume."

  Zefar’s arrogant smirk froze on his face. He blinked, completely caught off guard. He had expected the messy boy to cry, or shake, or run away. He did not expect to have a casual conversation about potato chip flavors.

  "Are you making a joke right now?" Zefar asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low whisper. "Do you have any idea who you are talking to, you filthy little rat?"

  Ken saw his opening. It was time to play his favorite role: the absolute idiot.

  Ken’s eyes went completely wide. He threw his hands up in the air and slapped them onto his own cheeks, making an incredibly exaggerated, fake expression of pure terror. He made his knees knock together on purpose, creating a silly tapping sound.

  "Oh no! A rich guy is looking at me!" Ken yelled out loud, his voice cracking like a terrified cartoon character. "This is the part where I should make a scared face, right? Let me make a scary cat face! Meow! Please do not hurt the potato boy! My spine is made of wet noodles, I will break so easily!"

  A few of the nobles in the background actually let out a snort of laughter. They couldn't help it. Ken looked so absolutely ridiculous that it completely ruined Zefar’s serious, tough-guy image.

  Zefar’s face turned bright red with pure embarrassment and fury. His fists clenched tightly at his sides. He realized that this peasant wasn't afraid of him at all; he was making fun of him.

  "You think you are funny?" Zefar hissed, stepping closer. "You are a disgrace to this entire room. People like you should be scrubbing the floors, not standing in the Waiting Pavilion. Look at your clothes. Look at your posture. You are a complete joke."

  Ken dropped his fake scared face instantly. His arms fell lazily to his sides, and his shoulders slumped back into his usual, comfortable slouch. He looked at Zefar with half-closed, sleepy eyes.

  "Well, yeah, I am a joke. I totally agree with you," Ken said easily, giving a lazy thumbs-up. "I am terrible at dressing myself. And scrubbing floors actually sounds like a nice, quiet job. Do you know if they are hiring? Because the Royal servant job is way too stressful for me."

  Ken reached down, picked up a tiny piece of cracker from his silver plate, and held it out toward Zefar.

  "Hey, you look kind of tense," Ken offered, flashing a bright, innocent smile. "Do you want a tiny swan bread? Neil and Love here were just saying how great the snacks are. You can join the Normal People Club if you want! We just stand in the corner and avoid doing actual work."

  Zefar looked at the piece of cracker being offered to him by a commoner. He looked at Ken’s smiling, goofy face. Zefar felt his blood start to boil. He had never been so deeply insulted in his entire life. This nobody, this trash from the outer districts, was treating him like an equal.

  "Keep your disgusting food away from me," Zefar growled, violently slapping Ken’s hand away. The tiny cracker flew through the air and hit the floor.

  Ken let out a long, dramatic sigh, looking down at the broken cracker. "Man, that is a tragic waste of cheese. You really have anger issues, my guy. Have you tried taking a nap? Naps solve at least ninety percent of my problems."

  "I am going to solve my problem right now," Zefar said, his voice shaking with rage. "I am going to burn that stupid smile off your face."