"One... you can tell me your dad or mom's phone number."
"Have your parents come pick you up."
"One... I call the police first, and then the officers can contact your parents."
"Which one do you choose?"
The man didn't try to coax the boy into giving him his parents' contact information.
Instead, he took a more "heartless" approach.
It was fine if the boy didn't want to give them his parents' contact information.
Then they would call the police.
Either option worked for him.
It was up to the boy to choose.
The boy glared fiercely at the man.
The man remained unmoved.
"Hurry up."
"If you don't choose, I'll assume you picked the second option."
"...You're bullying a kid!"
The boy's lips trembled.
At last, he managed to squeeze out a sentence.
"Oh, is that so?"
The man even curled the corners of his mouth.
"Weren't you just saying you didn't want people calling you a little kid?"
"And now you're saying you're a kid..."
"..."
The boy was at a loss for words.
He opened his mouth.
But no sound came out.
The man smiled.
"All right."
"I understand."
"Then it's the second option."
As he spoke, the man lit up his phone screen.
"No!"
The boy shrieked.
Like a fish out of water, he thrashed beneath the girl's hand.
His voice was still high and childish, not yet broken, and it was so piercing that it seemed to radiate in every direction like a sonic attack.
The man and the girl frowned in unison.
"Stop screaming," the girl said in a low voice.
The boy's shrieking had drawn plenty of startled and curious looks their way.
Some people had even stopped to see what was happening.
The girl suspected