Chapter 2

"Weren't you bragging about how much you can eat?"

The owner stood over me with his arms crossed, his gravelly voice booming through the small diner.

"If you can't finish it, you're paying double."

My stream chat was blowing up completely.

[Is this owner out of his mind??]

[Give us the address! I'm getting in an Uber right now!]

[Does anyone know the name of this place?! Expose him!!]

Mark couldn't sit still any longer. He kept frantically yanking my sleeve from under the table, his voice trembling.

"Chloe, please don't eat it. Let's just leave."

I swallowed the fiery noodles and turned my head toward him.

"If I walk out right now, he'll spend the rest of his life telling everyone women are just useless weaklings. You want to listen to that for them?"

Mark froze.

Under the table, his fists clenched, released, and clenched again. The look on his face shifted from raw terror to intense conflict, and then settled into an expression I had never seen on him before.

Suddenly, he bolted upright so fast his chair nearly flipped over.

Mark grabbed his own barely-touched bowl of pasta, slammed it right onto my table with a heavy clatter, splashing broth across the back of his hand. He didn't even bother wiping it off.

"The portion she was shorted is right here in my bowl! Take it all!"

The tips of Mark's ears were burning a bright, fiery red, but he held his chin high, refusing to look down. His voice shook violently, yet every single word came out sharp and clear.

"You owe her this, man!"

The entire diner dropped into absolute silence.

The cigarette butt fell straight out of the owner's mouth, scattering hot ash all over his pants. He glanced down at the ash, then glared back up at Mark in utter disbelief.

He clearly never expected this quiet, nerdy guy in glasses to grow a spine.

The live comments went completely wild.

[HELL YES! WHAT A COWORKER!!]

[Glasses Guy just earned legendary status!!]

[OMG I'm literally crying, where do I find a coworker like this?!]

[Hey owner, your pants are ruined, go cry in the back!!]

I looked up at Mark. The poor guy was standing completely stiff, his hands resting on the edge of the table, visibly trembling.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"Sit down. You're blocking my ring light."

Mark didn't move. I repeated it gently, and only then did he slowly sink back into his chair, still panting heavily from the adrenaline rush.

I pushed Mark's bowl back to his side of the table and went right back to tackling my own giant basin.

The owner's face turned completely livid. He bent down, scooped up the crushed cigarette butt, and ground it violently beneath his shoe.

He pulled out his phone, walked over to the kitchen doorway, and turned his back to the room as he dialed a number.

He tried to keep his voice down, but the place was tiny—barely four tables in total. Everyone heard every single word.

"Bring a couple guys over. Got a freeloader refusing to pay."

His wife poked her head out from behind the kitchen curtain, tugging anxiously at his sleeve.

"Stop making a scene! She never said she wouldn't pay!"

The owner aggressively shoved her hand away, his eyes bulging.

"You shut your mouth! If I can't put this chick in her place today, I might as well close up shop!"

A few remaining customers exchanged uneasy glances. Someone quietly pushed their bowl aside, walked to the register, paid, and slipped out.

Another patron dropped their fork without even finishing and hurried out the door.

A high school kid in the corner hesitated for a second before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and sprinting out.

Within minutes, the diner emptied completely. The only people left were me, Mark, and an elderly man sitting near the front door, quietly slurping his meal with his head down.

I didn't rush. The pasta in my bowl was already down by a third.

The ghost pepper spice burned hot in my gut, but my face remained an unreadable mask—a basic skill I had honed over three years of competitive eating.

The live viewer count blew past 10,000, and gifts started flooding the screen.

Roses, coffees, and suddenly, a massive Rocket animation detonated across the screen, showering the interface in radiant neon lights.

[A mega-gift just dropped!]

[The big donors have arrived! Girl, you've got an army behind you now!]

[Over 30,000 people watching this idiot call his thugs live on camera!!]

I dabbed at my lips with a napkin, flashed a finger-heart at the camera, and beamed sweetly.

"Thank you so much, chat! I think I just figured out the title for today's stream."

I scooped up another heaping forkful of pasta, cheeks stuffed, and mumbled happily:

"We'll call it: Eating This Toxic Joint Out of Business."

The owner hung up and spun around just in time to catch my words. The fat on his face twitched violently.

He shoved his phone into his apron pocket, dragged a chair right in front of the exit, and sat down, completely blocking the door.

"Eat me out of business?"

He lit a fresh cigarette and blew a thick smoke ring right in my direction.

"I'd love to see you try."

Under the table, Mark started yanking my sleeve again. This time, I didn't even look back—I just kept eating.