CHAPTER 36: CHAPTER NO.36 OF COURSE. WHY NOT ME?

Whistle~ Whistle~

My hands stuffed inside the pockets of my joggers, I walked with a slight sway, letting the cool New York breeze slap against my face.

The streets were louder now, packed with that chaotic rhythm only this city could pull off—horns blaring, people yelling, some guy pushing a cart stacked with bagels like he was on a holy mission. I let my hood hang low, not really hiding, but keeping the world at arm’s length.

For once, it felt... normal.

The smells were everywhere—oil, bread, something spicy coming from a food truck parked across the street. I slowed down, my stomach growling like it had a mind of its own.

"Damn... didn’t think I’d actually miss street food."

Back in my old life, I couldn’t go ten steps without a stall selling vada pav or golgappa. Here, though, it was hotdogs and pretzels, with some fusion crap people pretended was ’authentic.’ Still, hunger didn’t care about authenticity.

I stopped at a halal cart run by an older man with tired eyes but a smile that looked like it had survived years of chaos.

"One chicken over rice," I said, my voice steady.

He nodded, already scooping steaming meat onto a bed of rice, the smell punching me right in the memory. I leaned against the metal side of the cart, watching the smoke rise and mix with car exhaust.

When the container hit the counter, I paid in cash. The bills Grayfia left me felt too crisp, too new, but the vendor didn’t question it. He just handed me a plastic fork.

I sat on a nearby bench, peeling the lid back, and the first bite nearly made me groan out loud.

Hot, spicy, tangy—the kind of food that didn’t just fill your stomach but slapped your soul awake.

"Perfect," I muttered around the mouthful, my lips burning in just the right way.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" Two teenage girls stopped in front, blushing for no apparent reason, at least to me.

"Hmm... Sure." I tilted my head slightly left, which caused the hood to recede a bit.

But it seems just this action caused the blush to spread from the cheeks to all over their faces. One of them even pressed her phone against her chest like she was holding back a scream.

"Your eyes..." the braver one whispered, almost too soft for the noise of traffic to swallow. "Are they contacts?"

Contacts? I blinked once, my fork paused mid-air. For a second, I’d forgotten that crimson wasn’t exactly the ’normal’ colour in this world.

I swallowed my bite and gave a small shake of my head. "Nah. Natural."

The girl gasped, like I’d just confessed to being some rare breed of celebrity. Her friend tugged her sleeve, whispering something that sounded suspiciously like anime character

before both broke into nervous giggles.

"Sorry!" the first one blurted. "We just... never saw anything like that. You look... um... cool."

Her friend nodded so fast I thought she’d get dizzy.

I sighed softly and lowered my hood the rest of the way, letting my snow-white hair catch the sunlight. Might as well. Hiding only made them curious.

"Cool, huh?" I murmured, more to myself than to them. In my old life, the most I ever got was, Bhai, adjust na, when crammed in a local train. Now two strangers were tripping over compliments because of my face. Life was strange.

"...and your... hair? It’s just that even your eyebrows and eyelashes are white," the second girl stammered out, her words tumbling together like she regretted them the moment they escaped.

I blinked slowly, then gave a small shrug. "Genetics, I guess."

Their eyes widened like I’d just revealed some ancient secret. It wasn’t even a lie—well, not for them. For me, it was more like my existence had been dipped in snow and fire and then left to wander into the wrong world.

I stabbed another bite of chicken and rice, chewing calmly while they shuffled in front of me, whispering in bursts, then glancing at me like I was some rare painting in a museum. Honestly, I didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.

"Relax," I said finally, setting the fork down. "I’m not gonna bite."

That seemed to make things worse. Both girls went stiff, their cheeks burning red. The braver one covered her face with both hands, muffling something that suspiciously sounded like he’s too much.

I rubbed the back of my neck. In my past life, nobody batted an eye at me. I was just another guy lost in the crowd, shoved around on buses, blending in with a million others. Now? A simple look was enough to knock people off balance.

"You from here?" the second girl asked, still stealing glances like she wasn’t sure if I was real.

"First time in New York," I answered casually, spearing another piece of chicken. "Just... looking around."

They exchanged a look, and then the braver one smiled, cheeks pink. "Well... welcome. Hope you like it here."

"Thanks." I gave a small nod, returning my attention to the food.

"Ahem, I-If it’s not too much, can my friend here get your number?"

I raised a brow, the fork halfway to my mouth.

Her friend squeaked, nearly choking on air, and smacked her arm. "Wha—hey! Don’t just—!"

The bold one bit her lip, eyes darting between me and the ground, clearly regretting every life choice that led her to this exact moment.

I chewed slowly, buying myself a few seconds. The rice was spicy, grounding. When I swallowed, I set the fork down and leaned back slightly, studying them.

"My number, huh?" My tone wasn’t cold, just... curious.

I blinked at the girl, a little stunned. My number? Right. Of course. That was normal here, wasn’t it? But...

I scratched the side of my jaw, buying time. The truth was... I didn’t even own a phone. Grayfia had left me money, cards, even an obsidian lifeline, but no sleek little slab of glass with apps and numbers that every human here seemed to treat like oxygen.

"...I don’t have one," I said finally, honest but casual.

The bold one froze, blinking at me like I’d spoken in another language. Her friend’s jaw dropped.

"No phone?!" they said at the same time, voices a little too loud for comfort. A couple walking past turned to glance, then shrugged it off.

The braver girl leaned in, whispering urgently, "Wait—you mean like, no smartphone? At all?"

I gave a slow nod, lifting my cup of water. "Yeah. None."

Her friend covered her mouth with both hands, muffling her laugh. "You’re kidding! Everyone has one!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like everyone?"

That shut her up.

For a second, they just stared at me, both pink-cheeked, both caught between disbelief and some strange fascination. Then the bold one smirked faintly.

"...That’s kind of mysterious," she said.

"Mysterious?" I tilted my head, genuinely puzzled. "Not irresponsible?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "No. Most guys I know can’t last two minutes without checking their phones. You... you’re different."

Different. Right. If only they knew how much.

I popped another bite of chicken into my mouth, hiding the small twist of amusement tugging at my lips. The food grounded me, kept me from drifting too far into thoughts I couldn’t explain to strangers.

When I finished chewing, I exhaled softly. "Tell you what. Maybe I’ll get one soon. First thing on the list after this."

Her friend lit up. "Then we can give you our numbers!"

"Mm." I shrugged, standing and tossing the empty container into the nearby trash. "Maybe."

The bold one bit her lip again, like she wanted to say something else, but before either of them could, my Observation Grid and Senses screamed for me to move.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a cloud of dust moving in our general direction.

My body immediately moved, while my arms unconsciously wrapped around both girls, pulling them close and to the side just as a deafening CRASH! tore through the street.

Glass shattered, car alarms wailed, and the ground trembled like a train had derailed right under us. A delivery truck that had been parked along the curb was now on its side, crushed like a soda can, and something—someone—massive was standing where it had been.

Dust and smoke billowed up, and through it loomed a silhouette that made my stomach knot. Towering horns. A hulking frame. The kind of raw, primal presence that screamed predator.

A Minotaur.

"What the fuck—?!" one of the girls squeaked, her voice shaking against my chest.

My heart pounded once, hard. Grayfia’s warning echoed sharp in my mind—Don’t engage beings beyond your estimate. But this thing? This wasn’t some ordinary demon straggler or enchanted mortal. This was ancient myth stomping its way into downtown New York.

The creature snorted, hot steam curling from its nostrils, its eyes glowing with a hateful red that wasn’t human—or even demonic. Its hoof struck the pavement, cracking it like dry clay.

The street had emptied in seconds—screams echoed, car doors slammed, people fled in every direction. The two girls clung to me, trembling, but my body was already moving on instinct.

I tightened my grip around them. "Run."

They looked up at me with wide, panicked eyes.

"I said—RUN!" My voice came sharper this time, heavy with a will I hadn’t intended to unleash. For just a second, they froze under it—then bolted, legs shaky but carrying them away from ground zero.

Good. That was one less thing to worry about.

I turned back toward the Minotaur. My hood had fallen, my hair catching the wind, my crimson eyes locking onto its hulking form.

It wasn’t just here to smash cars. Its aura—it pulsed, savage, hungry, like it was hunting something. Or someone.

And when its gaze landed on me, the beast’s lips pulled back into something that looked too much like a grin.

I muttered under my breath. "Of course. Why not me?"

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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