"Oh, hahaha, so you're Cloud's son. Then I apologize for my words. Enter, boy."
Shiros entered the café and sat at a table in the dark corner. After minutes, the waiter came to him: "What would you like, sir?"
Shiros was amazed. Since when did someone call him "sir"? But he realized that here, people considered him a sorcerer while this waiter was an ordinary person.
Shiros said, after adjusting his posture to appear more charismatic: "Oh, you... uh... boy, bring me orange juice."
The waiter: "Orange juice??"
Shiros tensed, thinking what if orange juice was something sorcerers don't order, but the waiter interrupted his thoughts: "Just that?"
"Oh, I also want toasted bread and apple juice too."
"How do you order orange juice with apple juice? Isn't it logical to order one juice only?"
"Oh, uh, I like it that way."
"Fine, as you wish, sir."
Shiros felt ecstasy. The word "sir" is a wonderful word.
After minutes, the waiter brought the juices and bread. Shiros ate them quickly; he had never tasted food more delicious than this.
He relaxed in the chair for half an hour, happy and full of beautiful feelings, until the guard ruined it for him.
"Boy, your father Cloud is late... Where is he?"
"Oh, uh, I don't know."
"Since you've eaten, go out and wait for him outside because other customers have arrived, and we need to free the tables."
"Fine."
The two left the café and stood in front of the door for a while. Shiros got into trouble: this Cloud wasn't Shiros's father and seemed he would never come. If he stayed in front of the guard like this, he couldn't leave, and his lie would be exposed over time.
But Shiros had spent a full year living in the streets as a homeless person; he knew survival methods.
"Oh, guard, here is my father; he's calling you."
Shiros pointed to the right with his finger. As soon as the guard turned in that direction, Shiros dashed to the left like lightning.
Shiros ran for several minutes until he entered a safe area far from that sorcerers' café.
He stopped running while thinking and panting: "Whew, I escaped by a miracle, thank God."
"I'm far from the café now; they won't catch me... But I'll have to avoid that street all the time... Ah, how annoying."
He returned to regular thinking: "Now I just need to walk half an hour to reach our usual alley... Oh, it's no longer our alley; it's the companions' alley, I think. I've started missing those hard days."
He walked and walked and arrived. When he arrived, he looked excitedly into the alley but found no one. Then someone slapped him hard on the nape and said: "Why did you leave, my little friend?"
Shiros discovered it was one of his companions, but he was surprised by the strength of the slap; it didn't seem like a greeting or joke.
He looked behind him and found the café guard with the waiter: "Oh, what? How did they get here?!"
"Boy, that homeless one, that's a sorcerers' café. Anyone, even I, can know your location easily through clairvoyance. You're so stupid. You'll pay the price for your audacity in breaking the laws, theft, and the sin of violating the sanctity of the place. You'll work in this café without pay for three years as punishment."
"Oh God, in three years I might have children. I refuse this."
"You're forced, or we'll take you to the police."
Shiros's body froze, his pupils contracted, but he thought quickly: "How much for the juices and bread? I'll pay double the price; just leave me alone."
"Hahaha, you pay? You can't afford the price alone, let alone double. The price is one hundred dirhams, and double is naturally two hundred dirhams."
The guard didn't expect what would happen next: Shiros took out a bag of dirhams and said: "Take 200 dirhams."
The guard and the waiter were surprised but stubborn.