Chapter 28

Harley had returned to the country three days ago, solely to celebrate his mother's birthday. Aside from his family, only his closest friends knew about his return, like Connor Gordon, the slightly eccentric young man currently captivated by the claw machines. The two had been inseparable since childhood.

Watching Connor's unabashed enthusiasm, Harley took off his headphones and gave him a flat, unimpressed look.

"Connor, are you serious? Aren't you a little too old for this!"

"What's wrong with reminiscing about childhood?" Connor shot back.

"It's childish."

Harley made a move to put his headphones back on, but Connor grabbed his arm. "Come on, I helped you shop for your mom's birthday gift. The least you can do is indulge me for five minutes. Let's play a few rounds."

Before Harley could protest, Connor was already dragging him toward the claw machines. When they got closer, however, they were greeted with an unexpected sight. Most of the claw machines were completely empty – wiped out.

"What the heck?" Connor exclaimed, his jaw dropping. "Why are all the claw machines empty?"

Harley scanned the area with his usual disinterest. "Maybe they're being restocked."

"Then why isn't there a sign!" Connor frowned, glancing around before shouting, "Hey! Anyone here?"

A store attendant quickly emerged from a back room. "Yes, how can I help you?"

Connor pointed at the rows of empty machines, his tone incredulous. "What happened to all the toys? Why are the machines empty?"

The attendant bowed apologetically. "I'm so sorry. A young lady just cleared out all the toys in these machines. We're in the process of restocking them. If you'd like to play, you can wait a bit."

"She what?" Connor gaped, gesturing at the rows of machines. "She emptied all of these by herself?"

"Yes…" The attendant's voice trailed off, and they sighed dramatically, clearly still reeling from the ordeal. "She never missed, not once. Every coin, a prize. If the gentleman accompanying her hadn't offered to buy all the prizes at market value, we might've gone bankrupt."

Connor's jaw dropped even further. He turned to the indifferent Harley beside him and said, "I thought I was already a pro at claw machines, but it turns out there's always someone…"

Harley shrugged nonchalantly. "No matter how good you are, it's just a claw machine. What's there to be surprised about?"

"Hey, you little brat…" Connor, feeling the conversation going nowhere, glanced over at the staff and asked curiously, "Do you happen to know which way that young lady went? Maybe he could still catch up."

"She mentioned wanting to try a shooting game, so she headed toward the shooting range over there," the attendant explained, pointing in the direction of the arcade.

Connor's face lit up. "Got it, thanks!" He turned to Harley with newfound excitement. "Harley, let's head over there!"

Harley, however, was less than enthusiastic. Shaking off Connor's hand, he frowned, "Are you serious about this? You're acting ridiculous. Do you really want to embarrass yourself over a claw machine and a pellet gun?"

Connor rolled his eyes. "God, you're such a snob. What's so embarrassing about playing games? I think you're plenty embarrassing."

Connor was starting to lose his temper. He huffed, spun on his heel, and stalked off toward the shooting range. "Fine! Stay here and sulk. I'll go have fun on my own."

Harley pressed his lips into a thin line, watching Connor for a moment before turning away, fully intending to leave. But just as he took his first step, a crisp, cheerful voice rang out from the direction of the shooting range.

"Nick! Look, I hit the little bear! This one's for you!"

Harley froze mid-step. The voice struck him like a bolt of lightning, rooting him to the spot. His eyes widened, and his head snapped toward the shooting range. That voice… Harley thought.

Meanwhile, Connor was still grumbling as he walked, only to feel a sudden gust of wind rush past him.

"Huh?" He glanced over his shoulder and saw Harley striding past him with purpose, his usually calm demeanor replaced by something urgent and intense. "Harley?" Connor called after him, stunned.

For a moment, he was confused, but realization quickly dawned, and his face broke into a mischievous grin. "So that's how it is…" Connor chuckled to himself. "And here I thought this guy didn't care. Turns out he's just too proud to admit it."

Watching Harley practically sprint toward the shooting range, Connor shook his head and laughed. "Guess he couldn't resist after all."