Richie averted his eyes, his expression flustered. "S-s-sorry... I didn't mean to. I didn't know why you suddenly stopped, either."
Richie's voice grew quieter and quieter, until the last part sounded like a mosquito buzzing.
Si Ang fixed Richie with a piercing stare, and Richie didn't dare lift his head.
That gaze seemed capable of seeing right through him.
The air felt like solidified gel, and Richie could barely breathe under the pressure.
Those few seconds felt like centuries to Richie, until that cool voice spoke again:
"I'm asking why you were laughing."
The smile froze on Richie's face. What had he been laughing about again?
Richie thought it over. Surely he couldn't tell him that his dad had reminded him and Anya at school to apologize to Damian, the Second Son!
Richie's mind reading reached into Si Ang's body uncontrollably: If this brat doesn't tell the truth today, I'm going to teach him a proper lesson.
That was the only thought Richie managed to pick up from Si Ang. Not only was it no help at all, it made him even more flustered.
"Because, because... well..." Richie stumbled over his words, lowering his little face slightly, his cheeks burning red. Why couldn't he make something up?
Richie fiercely berated himself inwardly. Wasn't he usually full of tricks, able to lie without blushing or missing a beat? Why couldn't he come up with even one lie in front of this blond?
"I don't want to hear your made-up lies!!" Si Ang left him with those words, turned, and walked away. He was downright angry.
He had made so much effort to reach out, yet this brat still refused to appreciate it. He wouldn't even tell him the truth.
Si Ang looked up at the sky. It seemed the road to