“Thanks,” Fernanda said, giving Clement a gentle pat on the head.

Clement adjusted his hair and whispered, “Fernanda, please don’t pat my head when others are watching. I’m not a child anymore.”

“Ah, that’s right. You’ve turned eighteen,” Fernanda responded with a smile. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

When Fernanda first met Clement, she couldn’t help but notice his quietness and tendency to keep to himself. She had often used small, affectionate gestures like a pat on the shoulder or head to lessen the distance between them, and it had become a familiar habit.

Moments later, Clement added, his voice low, “Actually, if you feel like it, you can, just not in public.”

With a laugh, Fernanda’s eyes lit up. “Okay, I’ll remember that.”

Clement then turned his attention back to his plate, carefully picking at his grilled eggplant.

Meanwhile, Sloane was having a great time, ordering a dozen beers and enthusiastically clinking glasses with the group.

Just then, a young woman approached their table.

“It’s really him!” she called out, signaling to her friends.

She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes fixed on Neal. Soon, three of her friends joined her, all equally thrilled, their excitement evident as they stomped their feet.

It was clear to all; these were fans who recognized Neal from his gaming streams.

The first girl, phone in hand, approached Neal timidly. “Hey Neal, would you mind adding me as a friend? Maybe we could play a game together sometime?”

Neal, known for his graciousness to fans, welcomed such interactions as a delightful twist of fate and said, “Of course.”

He was about to retrieve his phone from the table when, out of nowhere, a figure darted forward like a bolt of lightning, grabbed Neal’s phone, and threw it aside. The same person then landed a punch on Neal’s face, shouting furiously, “You’re asking for it!”

Neal found himself unexpectedly on the floor, the impact of a thrown punch sending him sprawling.

Quickly, several girls grabbed the aggressive man, while Levi and others scrambled to lift Neal, shouting insults at the assailant. Alex clenched his fist, pointing aggressively at the man as he hissed, “Looking for a fight, are you? Think you can handle me?”

Dressed in a T-shirt that outlined his muscular chest, Alex’s physique was prominently displayed.

His arms, especially his biceps, looked strong enough to rival those of a professional fighter.

Drunk and not thinking clearly, the man fumbled with his words, blurting out defiantly, “You think you’re tough? I’m not afraid of you. Just try running your mouth now!”

The man made an effort to push past the girls restraining him, yet Alex quickly closed in, delivering a firm punch to his face.

“Hit him harder, Alex! Make sure he doesn’t get up!” Levi shouted in encouragement from the back.

The initial attempt by one of the girls to calm the man was visible on her strained face.

.

.

.