The atmosphere in the VIP ramen restaurant was warm with the smell of broth, soy sauce, and freshly cut scallions. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, painting golden stripes across the long polished table where Claude, Mio, and several of Claude's closest friends were gathered. The steaming bowls in front of them were almost untouched, because the conversation had taken a far livelier turn than anyone expected.
Key leaned back in his chair with a grin so wide it was almost mischievous. "You know, Claude," he began, chopsticks waving like a conductor's baton, "I still can't believe you're married to Mio. I mean—after how many rejections? Ten? Twenty?"
"Try more than that," Len interrupted, laughing as he sipped his iced tea. "I lost count after the thirtieth time she confessed and you brushed her off like she was offering free samples on the street."
