"HEY! You think you can just show up here, hog all the customers, and run the rest of us out of business?!"
The chatter around them faltered. People turned their heads, whispers buzzing through the line.
Vincent blinked. His brows narrowed. He hadn't expected this. "Excuse me?"
"Don't play dumb," the vendor snarled, jabbing a finger toward the grill. "Nobody lines up for food like this. Not in this plaza. I've been grilling skewers here for years—years!—and I've never seen a crowd like this. What are you putting in your food, huh? Some kind of chemical? Addictive powder?"
A ripple of disbelief swept the line. Someone near the front scoffed. "Addictive powder? Dude, it's just delicious."
"Yeah," another chimed in, holding up a burger dripping with cheese and truffle sauce. "If you cooked like this, you'd have a line too."
The crowd chuckled, but the skewer seller's scowl deepened. He looked ready to explode.
He jabbed a greasy finger toward the overflowing crowd. "This isn't a restaurant district. This is a market! You're disrupting the balance here!"
Some customers frowned at the accusation. Others whispered in defense of Vincent:
"Balance? He's just cooking better food than you."
"Yeah, if he's this good, why shouldn't people line up?"
The skewer man's jaw clenched. "Shut it, freeloaders! Just wait until health inspectors show up—"
The words hung In the air like a spark ready to ignite.
Vincent wiped his hands on his apron, gaze steady. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried.
"I didn't come here to fight anyone. I just came to cook. If people don't like my food, they won't buy it. But if they do…" He gestured at the massive line behind him. "Well, that speaks for itself, doesn't it?"
The crowd erupted In cheers and claps, some even shouting his name though few of them actually knew it. The skewer seller's face twisted, caught between rage and humiliation.
And though he stormed back to his stall, muttering curses under his breath, Vincent knew this was only the beginning.
Success brought crowds. Crowds brought attention.
And attention?
That always brought trouble.
The jealous vendor scowled from behind his stall, still fuming as he watched Vincent's line grow longer by the minute. The chatter, the laughter, the impatient stomps of shoes—all of it belonged to the kid who had only just shown up in the park.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, gripping his ladle so tightly his knuckles whitened. "One good day and people act like he's the king of food."
Then, just as his frustration boiled over, as if fate had heard his plea, he spotted movement at the edge of the park. Two patrol officers in uniform, casually walking along the path, hands resting at their belts.
His eyes lit up. Perfect.
- - -
The officers walked in step, their conversation light.
"Man, I could really use something decent for lunch today," said the taller one with a sigh. "If I have to eat another gas-station sandwich, I'm filing for hazard pay."
His partner chuckled. "You? Complaining? Thought you'd eat cardboard if it came with hot sauce."
"Hot sauce fixes a lot of things, but not everything."
The shorter officer squinted, pointing toward the heart of the park. "Hey… you see that?"
They both slowed. A dense crowd clustered around a single spot, packed tight with people waiting, talking, and waving cash.
"That's not a normal food stall crowd," the taller one said. "Looks more like a concert line."
"Could be trouble," his partner replied. "Let's check it out."
—
The jealous vendor hurried over, waving his arms as if he'd been waiting for them all morning.
"Officers! Officers, thank goodness you're here!" His voice dripped with false concern. "That kid's causing chaos. Look—blocking the walkway, stirring up noise, selling… who knows what. I swear, someone's gonna get food poisoning if this keeps up."
The taller officer arched a brow. "Food poisoning?"
"Yes!" the vendor said eagerly, nodding so hard sweat rolled down his temple. "Completely unlicensed, too. We can't have this kind of nonsense messing up the park's order. You should—"
"Relax," the shorter officer cut in, holding up a hand. "We'll take a look ourselves."
They approached the line, tapping a man on the shoulder.
"Excuse us," the taller officer said. "What's going on here?"
The man brightened immediately. "Oh, this? Officers, you've gotta try his food. I'm not exaggerating—it's better than half the diners in town. He cooks right in front of you, fresh ingredients, no shortcuts. That smell?" He inhaled deeply. "That's heaven."
A woman in line leaned in, grinning. "If you're gonna try something, start with the truffle burger. But don't skip his rice bowls. The teriyaki chicken one? Unreal."
Another customer added, "The hibiscus iced tea too. It'll ruin all other drinks for you."
The officers exchanged glances. The skeptical look on their faces softened into curiosity.
"...Fresh ingredients, huh?" the shorter officer murmured.
"Made on the spot," the man confirmed. "See for yourselves."
The officers stepped forward, weaving through the murmuring crowd. Customers whispered and craned their necks as the uniforms drew near.
Behind the counter, Vincent was in the middle of plating a loaded fried rice when he looked up—and froze.
Two officers. Walking directly toward him.
His chest clenched. This is it. They're here to shut me down.
The jealous vendor, watching from his stall, smirked wide enough to hurt his cheeks. Finally. Let's see you talk your way out of this one.
The officers stopped at the front of the stall. For a heartbeat, the silence was crushing.
Then the taller officer spoke. "Relax, kid. We're not here to bust you."
Vincent blinked. "You're… not?"
The shorter officer chuckled. "No. We're starving. The crowd says your food's worth the wait, but we're still on duty. Think you can let us cut the line?"
Vincent nearly sagged with relief. "...Of course. What would you like?"
"Give us your best," the taller officer said after a glance at the menu. "One truffle burger, one… uh, chef's special?"
"That'd be the loaded fried rice," Vincent replied, already moving.
Within minutes, the burger sizzled golden on the grill, its aroma drawing the officers closer. Vincent slid a patty onto a toasted bun, layered crisp lettuce, spooned a dollop of truffle aioli, then capped it all with a soft, buttered top bun. Next to it, he plated a steaming bowl of rice, loaded with tender slices of chicken, veggies, and a drizzle of savory sauce.
He pushed both meals forward. "Here you go."
Across the way, the jealous vendor's smirk faltered. His helper nudged him, whispering, "Boss… they're actually eating it."
The officers took their first bites.
The burger practically melted in their mouths—the juicy beef perfectly charred, smoky and rich, balanced by the earthy depth of truffle and the creamy tang of aioli. The lettuce added a crisp snap, the bun buttery and soft, soaking up every bit of flavor.
The rice bowl was no less stunning. Every grain was coated in sauce, savory and slightly sweet, each bite harmonizing tender chicken with a crunch of vegetables. Comforting and indulgent all at once.
Both officers stopped mid-chew, wide-eyed.
"...You taste that?" the taller one muttered.
"Best burger I've had in years," the shorter replied around another mouthful.
The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter. Customers clapped, some whistled, others shouted, "Told you so!"
At his stall, the jealous vendor's smirk vanished completely, replaced by a face so red he looked ready to explode.
The officers polished off their plates in minutes. Setting them down, the taller officer wiped his mouth.
"Alright. That settles it. We're coming back tomorrow. No debate."
"Seconded," his partner said with a grin.
The crowd cheered again as the officers waved and headed off, leaving Vincent stunned but grateful.
"They… they weren't here to shut me down," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Within an hour, his stock was gone—completely sold out. Customers groaned in disappointment, some stomping their feet.
"Don't worry," Vincent called out, raising his hands. "Tomorrow, I'll bring more. Enough for everyone!"
Cheers broke out again, the mood instantly lifted.
By the time the sun dipped, Vincent had cleaned up and packed away his gear. His muscles ached, but his heart felt light.
Two days in, and even the officers were hooked.
Tomorrow… he'd be ready.