"Sir, would you like your fortune told?" Just as Heath was busy serving customers and planning to continue studying his Resurrection Lettuce during his break later that day, a man in a plaid shirt and glasses with thick lenses stood in front of him and asked in all seriousness.
"Huh?" Heath froze for a moment. Honestly, he had never expected to encounter a fortune-telling master while busy grilling barbecue here at night. He did not know whether to laugh or cry.
"Would you like your fortune told?" the man asked again, his manner earnest.
Heath put the grilled eggplant he was holding onto a plate and had Zoroark take it over before taking a proper look at the man in front of him.
Thick lenses, a skinny body, and lively eyes-but the heavy dark circles beneath them made him look like a middle-aged internet addict who had stayed up far too long.
"I don't want my fortune told, sorry." Heath firmly turned him down. He could not soften his attitude at a time like this, or the man would definitely take advantage of it. This was something Heath had learned from dealing with many street vendors.
It was just like those salespeople hawking things by the roadside. If you did not clearly refuse them right away, they might even come straight up, give you a service, and then ask whether you wanted to buy their products. Someone had once dropped to one knee right in the street to polish Heath's shoes. Heath had been dumbfounded, and the strange looks from everyone around him had given him the urge to kick the person away. These people really were something. In a sense, being utterly shameless was quite an impressive feat.
"...My fortune-telling is very accurate. You're definitely going to have bad