Chapter 19 Date With Rudy [Part-2]
Just before we took another step deeper into the glittering restaurant, a slender man dressed in a suit-like uniform walked briskly toward us. He carried a small box in both hands, held with the kind of respect people use for crowns or sacred relics. The moment he reached us, he raised one hand politely.
“Please wait,” he said, his voice calm but theatrical, as if trained for performances. Then, in a grand medieval-like tone, he added, “Welcome, esteemed guests.”
I blinked. Rudy raised a brow. The man wasted no time. He opened the small box, revealing two gleaming circular objects that immediately caught my attention. They had buttons, yes… but they weren’t normal by any stretch. These were badges, perfectly round, shining brightly, made entirely of pure, polished gold.
Before I could comment, he carefully lifted one and clipped it onto Rudy’s chest pocket with a ceremonial gentleness that made Rudy puff his chest a little. Then the man turned to me, bowed slightly, and clipped the second badge onto the shoulder strap of my dress with precision and surprising tenderness.
“Your seats await, honored guests,” he announced, stepping backward and gesturing with an open palm. “Please follow the golden lights.”
I glanced at Rudy. He shrugged, clearly enjoying the drama.
“Fancy,” he whispered.
“That was extra,” I muttered back, but I couldn’t deny the little thrill the gold badge gave me.
We followed him deeper into the restaurant. Although there were several people seated inside, none could be seen clearly. Every table was surrounded by a rectangular barricade, high enough to block visibility. Net-like material draped over each barricade, acting like a tint, allowing people inside to see out faintly, but preventing anyone outside from seeing in.
“Privacy on steroids,” I whispered.
Rudy chuckled. “Rich people don’t like being watched while eating illegal animals.”
I wasn’t sure if he was joking.
We stepped into one of the barricaded sections. Inside, soft golden lights illuminated a round table in the center. The chairs were cushioned, elegant, and far more comfortable than anything outside. Rudy sat across from me, stretching his legs with a satisfied sigh.
It didn’t take long before a waiter appeared, silent as a shadow but polite as royalty. She placed two menus gently on the table and bowed.
“Your menu, honored guests.”
Rudy pushed his toward me. “Choose something,” he said with a grin.
“I thought we were supposed to choose together,” I muttered, opening it anyway.
The moment I scrolled, my heart skipped.
“What the hell…” I whispered.
Inside the menu were some of the most confusing, exotic, and downright disturbing dishes I had ever seen. Boiled bear feet. Medium rare python heads. Beluga whale meat. I felt my stomach spin at the thought. There were categories of foods that were, not exaggerating, illegal in multiple countries.
“Who the hell eats this?” I whispered to myself, flipping the pages faster.
After failing to find anything remotely normal, I gave up and settled for simple seafood; lobsters, snails, crabs, crawfish. At least they wouldn’t stare back at me.
The waiter then turned to Rudy. “And for you, sir?”
Rudy glanced at the menu for half a second and said, “I’ll have a bear’s foot.”
I snapped my head toward him. “A what?”
“A bear’s foot,” he replied casually, like someone ordering french fries.
The waiter bowed calmly. “Confirmed. Your meals will be served shortly.”
Once she left, I stared at Rudy, absolutely dumbfounded.
“Where the heck did you bring me?” I demanded. “This restaurant doesn’t even have a name. It’s hidden in some shady location. And now you’re ordering bear feet? Rudy, what is this place?”
He raised both hands slightly, trying to calm me down. “Relax. This is where most of the ultra-rich people come to eat. Normal places get boring after a while. Eating the same thing every day isn’t fun.”
I gaped. “So that’s why you ordered a bear’s foot? A freaking bear foot?”
Rudy burst into laughter. “Come on, I just want to try it. Don’t judge me until we know what it tastes like.”
“Oh, I can already guess,” I muttered. “Like regret.”
He leaned back, still laughing, wiping his eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”
“If you continue like this,” I said, pointing at him, “you’ll soon want to taste human meat at some point.”
Rudy paused, then smirked. “Human meat tastes like pork.”
My face twisted in horror. “Rudy!”
He immediately raised both hands. “Kidding! I swear I’m kidding. I would never go that far. Relax. I’m adventurous but not insane.”
“I’m monitoring you,” I grumbled.
He snorted. “Be my moral compass.”
Soon after, the waiter returned, silent as before—pushing a small golden trolley. She placed my seafood selection in front of me first.
Then she placed Rudy’s order.
A massive, boiled bear foot.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, leaning back. “It’s an actual foot.”
Rudy’s face lit up. “It looks amazing. It’s protein.”
“It’s terrifying.”
He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
I pushed my plate a little away from his. “Please don’t let the foot touch my seafood.”
Rudy stabbed it lightly with his fork. “It’s tender.”
“I’m going to throw up.”