A few large men, standing with Jase, had their backs to Yvette as they toppled a vegetable stand. Their expressions were both fearful and peculiar; they muttered, "Is this enough, Mr. Jase Chavez?" while staring at the old man lying on the ground. Jase ignored them, furtively glancing toward the security room. He then wailed loudly in apparent pain, as if ensuring he was heard.
Inside the security room, Yvette watched the scene impassively. Her face remained expressionless. Yusef, internally conflicted, observed her. He thought, A girl, witnessing this, should be overcome with a sense of justice, rushing to intervene, or at least be frightened enough to hide. Ms. Zeller simply watches, unreactive. What is she thinking? He realized his initial assumptions were wrong.
The sun blazed. If Jase suffered heatstroke, it would be serious. Yusef, feigning concern, cautiously said to Yvette, "Ms. Zeller, if we let this continue, that old man might be in real danger. Shouldn't we intervene?"
Yvette tilted her head, her delicate brows conveying a relaxed, rebellious charm as she lazily regarded him. Her eyes lowered, their corners captivating and beautiful. "Ms. Zeller?" she said coolly. Yusef nodded, his mind entirely focused on Jase, missing the subtext of her words. Yvette withdrew her gaze and nodded. "Let's go." She stepped out of the security booth. Yusef, still surprised by her easy agreement, quickly followed.
The three burly men were nearing their limit; maintaining their fierce facades proved difficult. They were giving their all to this performance, silently hoping for their employer's arrival. Jase, nearly eighty and wilting under the sun, struggled to keep up the charade. Finally, he saw Yvette emerge from the security room, Yusef close behind, offering a reassuring glance.
Jase immediately launched into his performance, his acting skills on full display. He dramatically tilted onto the ground. "I beg you, gentlemen, please let me, a poor old man, go. I will repay the debt my worthless grandson owes. Just give me time. Otherwise, even sacrificing my life won't benefit you, will it?"
The three burly men twitched their mouths. Their fierce expressions flickered with a hint of fear at Jase's use of "gentlemen." They thought, This could cost us our lives. Besides, "gentlemen" sounds strange. Somehow, it feels familiar, but this isn't the right occasion.
Seeing them approach, Jase quickly whispered to the dazed men, "Keep acting! They're almost here. That's an order. Right now, I'm not Mr. Jase Chavez, understand?" They exchanged glances and continued their performance with renewed determination. One, square-faced, pretended to kick Jase, creating the illusion of impact without actually touching him. Jase let out another wail, enhancing the performance. Even he admired his own acting.
Yvette stopped several feet away, remaining silent. Yusef, attempting to force her involvement, shouted, "Hey! What's wrong with you beating up an old man in broad daylight? Have you no decency?"
Yvette glanced at him, then at Jase. Her cool gaze settled on his face, lingering for a moment. A significant resemblance in their brows and eyes was apparent. She raised her eyelids, a slow curve to her lips, hands in her pockets, revealing a hint of amusement. "Are you done?" she asked indifferently.
The three men were baffled. This wasn't the plan. They'd anticipated a heroic intervention after a brief scare. Flustered by her unexpected behavior, the most muscular man stepped forward, adopting a stern expression. "Do you think this concerns you, girl? What happens between us is none of your business. Want to play the hero? Then pay off his grandson's debt—330 thousand dollars—and we'll leave." The others backed him up, finally adopting a more overtly menacing demeanor.
Jase, trembling, stood and brushed off his clothes. With a dirt-smeared face, he wailed to Yvette, "Young lady, please help me! If they keep beating me, I'll be ruined. I'll be eternally grateful if you save me. I beg you!"
Yvette ignored their dramatic performance. Turning to Yusef, she said slowly, "Could you get me a chair, please?"
Yusef, puzzled, asked, "Ms. Zeller, you want a chair?"
Yvette nodded. Yusef glanced at Jase, who nodded subtly. "Alright, I'll get a chair right away. Just hang on." Jase, knowing Yvette possessed martial arts skills, guessed she planned to use the chair as a weapon. He liked her feistiness. Concerned the men might inadvertently hurt her, he gave them a warning look. They understood immediately. They wouldn't dare retaliate against Mr. Jase Chavez's granddaughter-in-law, especially considering she was the girlfriend of Jeremiah Chavez, the Living Reaper.
Silence fell as everyone contemplated the situation. A minute later, Yusef returned with the chair, handing it to Yvette with an eager smile. She placed the chair down. Just as the three braced for a beating and Jase prepared to reveal his identity, Yvette sat. She crossed her legs, rested her chin on her hand, and slowly looked up. Her blue eyes were deep; a faint smile played on her lips, conveying mischief and roguishness. Her voice was cold and detached. "If you're not finished fighting, continue. Take a break if you're tired, and resume later."
The three men were utterly confused. What's going on? This isn't just unconventional; it's a complete plot twist! No wonder she caught the Living Reaper's attention. She seems ready to let Mr. Jase Chavez die, then suggests we rest and fight again. Is she practically ordering us to fight Mr. Jase Chavez to the death? What a ruthless person!
Yusef was stunned. The girl who loves Jeremiah is no ordinary person.
Jase, hearing her words, gave Yvette a complex look. The pitiful old farmer act vanished instantly. His bent back straightened. An elderly voice, full of authority, echoed, "When did you realize this was all an act?"