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Because Henry's daily routine now included avoiding the FBI and the police, he never relaxed his awareness of his surroundings.
Any small disturbance drew his attention—though most of the time, he simply chose not to interfere.
But today was different.
A girl slipped furtively into the restaurant, acting exactly like an inexperienced novice about to do something bad.
She didn't just draw Henry's attention—even the servers and some customers noticed her behavior.
They simply refrained from staring openly.
She crept toward the restaurant's self-serve salad bar, waited for a moment when every server was busy, grabbed several small dinner rolls from beside the salad station, and hurried toward the exit, pretending nothing happened.
Although the staff were busy, plenty of people were keeping an eye on her.
One server immediately put down what she was doing to give chase.
Yes, the salad bar and bread were complimentary for dining customers, but someone who didn't order anything obviously wasn't allowed to take them.
It was basically theft.
The server was about to rush after her.
But just as the girl thief started running and the server took her first big stride, Henry stepped right in front of the pursuer.
She was a big, burly woman—one punch from her and that scrawny girl would probably go flying.
Henry slipped two bills into the server's hand and said:
"One's the cost of the bread. The other's your tip. Let's just call it even, okay?"
Both bills were five-dollar notes— already more than the price of many dishes here.
There was no reason to refuse.
The server stuffed the money into her apron pocket and said helplessly:
"Just don't let it happen again."
"OK."
But the girl thief, who should've been escaping, did not leave the restaurant.
Instead, she turned back, bit her lower lip, tears shimmering in her eyes, and stubbornly shoved the bread into Henry's hand before turning to leave again.
Henry grabbed her wrist.
Right at that moment—her stomach let out a loud growl.
The sadness on her face instantly turned into bright-red embarrassment.
Henry almost laughed.
Judging by looks alone, the girl was probably barely out of high school, still carrying a bit of baby fat, and clearly not in the healthiest condition.
Henry said:
"Let me buy you lunch. How about it, miss?"
She turned, staring at him with wide, wary eyes, then glanced at the hand still holding her.
Henry immediately let go and said:
"If you don't want charity, we can treat it as an exchange.
You be my model, and your payment is the meal."
This sudden, odd request only made her more suspicious.
She rubbed the spot on her arm where he'd held her and cautiously took a step back.
Henry realized how that must have sounded.
In a city full of dreams, there were also countless traps.
He clarified immediately:
"Not that kind of model—
A sketching model.
You don't need to go anywhere.
Just sit for five to ten minutes after you finish eating so I can draw you.
That's all."
"…Why?" the girl asked.
Henry picked up his sketchbook, flipped past a few pages of scenery drawings, and said:
**"I've been hungry before.
It's the cruelest torture in the world.
I know exactly how it feels.
"And judging from your clothes, you don't look like a homeless runaway.
This is probably temporary.
One meal—it's nothing to me."**
Around them, several customers began applauding, egging things on.
No matter what, kindness deserved praise.
Henry acknowledged the crowd with a small nod, then quickly grabbed the girl again when she tried to bolt.
He said:
"You're here in Hollywood chasing a dream, right?
If you can't handle something this small, you won't survive long in this business."
The girl turned, blinking those big eyes at him.
Henry let go and pointed toward his table.
"If you want to hear more, sit down.
But don't expect any inspirational success stories."
He waved at a server.
"Menu, please."
When the menu arrived, the girl peered at it.
Henry said:
"Order whatever you want.
This is not the time to pretend you're a dainty lady with a tiny appetite."
A single joke—
And from behind the menu emerged a pair of dead-fish eyes staring at him like he'd committed a crime.
He coughed awkwardly, smoothing things over.
At the same time, he studied her features.
She looked familiar somehow.
She was a classic blonde white girl with very balanced features.
Her eye sockets were a little deep—an obvious trait that kept her looks from being forgettable.
As for her figure, Henry couldn't judge; he didn't use X-ray vision casually.
Not every naked body was pleasant to look at—clothes existed to protect other people's eyes too.
Her long-sleeved spring top hid her curves, but from her wrist and hand, she was slightly on the chubby side.
Not fat—just not the sickly-thin "model aesthetic."
Then she ordered several high-calorie dishes at once—the kind meant to last her three days.
In her view, she was paying for this meal—by posing as his sketch model—so she didn't need to be polite.
Eat while you can.
Henry didn't stop her.
With sixty thousand in dirty cash, he could eat in this family restaurant for a century.
This amount was nothing.
And then it hit him.
Suddenly, Henry connected the girl's face with a certain future ice queen superstar.
If she slimmed down a little… she would look very much like her.
Could it really be her?
He hesitated.
"Hello?"
The girl waved a hand in front of his face.
He snapped back to reality.
"What is it?"
"Are you an actor?" she asked.
Henry answered honestly:
"I'm registered with the Screen Actors Guild, and I've appeared in a few films…
But always as background extras.
Nothing that ever made it to theaters—just direct-to-VHS B-movies."
"Oh."
She sounded disappointed.
Henry smiled.
"Told you not to expect success stories.
People like me are everywhere in Hollywood."
"So this path is really hard?" she asked.
"It's more that… I can do lots of other things, so I don't fight hard for acting opportunities.
I even worked as someone's assistant for a couple years—paid well, too."
"Then why stop?" she asked.
Henry grinned.
"My boss passed away.
I can't exactly chase her up to heaven to keep working for her.
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