After changing their clothes, the three of them continued walking, arriving inside the night market after just a few steps.
Food stalls were packed one after another, their fragrant aromas wafting through the air, tantalizing beyond words.
Zeke Walton quickly picked a stall, deciding on barbecue. Cecelia Archer wanted some too, so the two of them ordered a ton of food before pushing the menu toward Damien Vaughn.
This was the first time in Damien Vaughn’s life eating at a street stall. The very names of the dishes, reeking of smoke and fire, killed any appetite he might have had.
"You two go ahead and order."
The vendor was liberal with the oil and even more so with the seasonings. The grilled food came out sizzling and dripping with grease, slathered in spices. Zeke Walton couldn’t stop praising it as he ate, and Cecelia Archer was quite interested too. Damien Vaughn, on the other hand, picked up one skewer after another, examining each one, but couldn’t bring himself to take a bite.
"This is so unhealthy."
"Why don’t you see if there’s a restaurant nearby? You can go eat there, and we’ll wait for you here," Zeke Walton suggested, a little fed up with his fussiness. ’Does he ever get tired of being so prim and proper all the time?’
But Damien Vaughn glanced at Cecelia Archer. ’If even she can eat it... oh, never mind.’
He slowly and reluctantly opened his mouth to take a bite of a vegetable skewer. Just then, Zeke Walton suddenly suggested they take a group photo.
"We haven’t taken a group photo together yet! We’re in such a beautiful place, it’d be a shame not to commemorate it. Come on, Cecelia, give me your phone."
Cecelia Archer wanted to strangle him. He kept blurting out her real name. ’If I were actually a spy, Zeke Walton would have gotten me killed a dozen times over by now!’
After speaking, Zeke Walton belatedly realized his mistake and quickly apologized.
"Sorry, sorry! Luna..."
Damien Vaughn shot him an irritated look.
"That’s enough. Just call her by her real name. I’m not an idiot."
’So he knew all along that she was Cecelia Archer, not Luna Linden?’
’Then why didn’t he look into the issue with his mother, or the fact that Cecelia switched her identity?’
Zeke Walton stared at Damien Vaughn’s calm expression, his mind racing with questions.
’And another thing—Damien said he came here for work, but he slept the whole way, and his phone has been silent. Tonight, he hasn’t done anything remotely work-related. Could it be he didn’t come for work at all, but just to keep me company?’
’No, scratch that. He came to keep Cecelia Archer company.’
’Keep Cecelia Archer company?’
The thought made Zeke Walton jump.
’Why would he want to keep her company? Don’t tell me he not only doesn’t blame her but has actually forgiven her? And... he still has feelings for her?’
Cecelia Archer was eating a skewer of fried enoki mushrooms, and a bit of red chili stuck to the corner of her mouth.
When he mentioned taking a picture, she quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe her mouth, but she missed a small fleck of chili.
Damien Vaughn glanced at her and casually wiped it away for her.
Watching Damien’s natural, fluid motion, Zeke Walton felt as if he’d stumbled upon a monumental secret. Suddenly, he felt a pang of pity for Damien Vaughn.
’Here I am, his friend for so many years, and at a crucial moment, not only did I fail to understand him, I even backstabbed him. He must be heartbroken, right?’
’He wants to be with Cecelia Archer, but his status as President Vaughn creates so many obstacles...’
’Sigh, I’m such a terrible friend. How am I only just now figuring him out?’
Cecelia Archer handed over her phone, and Zeke Walton held it up.
"Vaughn, lean in a little. I can’t get you in the frame."
Damien Vaughn never normally posed for pictures, so by all rights, he should have refused Zeke Walton. But this didn’t seem like the time to be a buzzkill, so he leaned in next to Cecelia Archer.
CLICK! CLICK!
Zeke Walton snapped several photos. They looked amazing; all three of them were ridiculously good-looking.
’If I post these to my feed, the likes will blow up, right?’


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