Busboy Return

Champion

By now, it's time for a change in strategy.

When transitioning from an offensive to a defensive stance, the most crucial aspect is to scatter the opponent's focus.

"Sniff sniff, sniff. Did you have spaghetti for dinner tonight? I can smell a strong oregano aroma."

In reality, spaghetti was the dinner menu for the busboys tonight.

"Yeah? Really? I just had mac and cheese with fried chicken for dinner tonight... Oh, come on, Fred! He never shows up when it's mealtime. Probably microwaved some frozen food."

"Right? Can you smell it too? Frozen meals seem to be coming out well these days. They usually don't have a lot of oregano in them."

Manipulating smell surprisingly comes easy.

Especially, scents of favorite foods are always ingrained in memory, making them easily recognizable in similar settings.

There probably isn't a kid in the US who dislikes spaghetti.

"Dorothy couldn't make it tonight. So, I'm here on her behalf. Let's go inside quickly. Mr. Robinson must be waiting."

The high schooler's expression loosens as he realizes his mission is accomplished.

"Got it. Let's go inside, bro. By the way, bro, have you stopped working out? I started last year."

The high schooler starts walking toward his home.

Another change of topic! This time, it's about exercising.

'What kind of workout did MJ do, anyway?'

If he had been exercising, he probably would've liked it. But there wasn't a single picture of it in the room.

MJ's body doesn't seem significantly muscular enough for powerlifting, and it's not like he had particularly well-developed legs for track and field.

When you don't know, you can always play the "not feeling well" card.

"Yeah, I've been resting for a while because my health hasn't been great."

We're right in front of the entrance. Not knowing the layout of the building, I had to come up with something.

"Just wait a moment, you go in first. I'll follow right after. I need to check my email, that's why."

"Pretending to be busy... Come in quickly."

As the high schooler opens the door and goes inside, the door closes.

Thud!

"What? You startled me. Checking your email?"

My foot, hastily stuck in before the front door closed, hits the door with a loud noise.

"You told me to come in quickly."

I wanted to avoid the worst-case scenario of losing the high schooler.

The building I followed into, my eyes on the phone, wasn't as intimidatingly large and complex as I had feared.

The high schooler's movement halted.

"What are you doing, bro? Aren't you coming in? Do I have to open the door for you? Why are you looking at your email like that?"

The high schooler's head pokes out between me and my phone.

"Nah, never mind. It's just some email asking for money."

"Is it one of those stupid emails asking you to send money to a prime minister from the Congolese exile government?"

"It's from my phone company."