William scanned the trinkets laid out on the stall and said to Edward Taylor, "This stall. Everything on it. Buy it and have it sent to my place. Count how many pieces there are."
"All of this?" Edward frowned. "They're just decorative crafts."
The vendor's face darkened. "Hey! Old man, are you trying to ruin my business? What do you mean, 'just crafts'? I've got some real treasures here! You say stuff like that, you're killing my reputation."
William said calmly, "I'm not looking for antiques. Modern crafts are fine. I just want to decorate my place."
The vendor felt completely ignored. He turned to William, raising his voice. "Hey, kid, did you not hear me? I've got real antiques here! If you want to buy everything, it'll cost you at least two hundred grand. I won't sell for a penny less!"
"Two thousand," William said, locking eyes with him. "Take it or leave it."
What the hell? Again?!
The vendor had never seen eyes like that. This kid looked young, but the way he stared—it was like he could see straight through him. Every little trick, every lie, laid bare.
Two thousand bucks. If he sold everything, he'd still walk away with a profit of nearly eight hundred. Not bad for a day's work.
But this was an antique stall.
Didn't this kid know what that meant?
It meant you could go months without a sale, but when you did, it was supposed to be a big one. One deal could feed you for a year.
If he sold out like this, wasn't that just humiliating?
"…Fine. It's yours," the vendor said through gritted teeth. He'd have to find a new spot after this. No way he could show his face here again.
Edward Taylor chuckled. "Two thousand's not bad." He pulled out his phone and scanned the QR code to pay. There were nine items on the table—so that meant nine characters. For two grand? Bargain of the century.
"Where do you live, kid? I'll have someone deliver it," Edward asked after paying. He was starting to feel a flicker of excitement. If William really could read those symbols… then maybe taking him as a teacher wouldn't be so bad after all.
"East 62nd Street. The house with the sycamore trees. Just leave the stuff in the yard," William said, then glanced at Edward. "Nine characters. No more. I'm in a good mood today, so I'll teach you. But if you want more later, that'll depend on how I feel."
Edward gave an awkward laugh. What kind of arrogant kid is this?
Want to learn? Depends on his mood?
"Edward, let's go. Why are you letting him talk to you like that?" the older man beside him couldn't take it anymore. Everything William said—his tone, his attitude—was beyond disrespectful.
Edward waved him off and pulled out a notebook and pen. He quickly scribbled down a symbol.
"Alright, kid. What's this one mean?"
William glanced at it. "That one represents Zeus, King of the Gods."
"One character for Zeus?" Edward frowned. It reminded him of ancient Greek—single words packed with meaning.
"What about this one?"
"Boring."
"Cough! What's boring?"
"I said the character means boring. Are you stupid?"
William gave him a look of pure disdain. Edward didn't even get mad—he just chuckled awkwardly and wrote down another symbol.
"Death."
This time, Edward didn't ask. He just kept going, writing out the rest of the symbols from the stele, one by one. Then he jotted down the translations William gave him.
He'd scrambled the order of the characters, just to test him. But once William translated them all, Edward rearranged them into a coherent sentence:
"Zeus, King of the Gods, grew up and, with his brothers, killed Cronus. As he matured, Zeus lost his former charm. Their family drama got boring, and so began the Twilight of the Gods."
Twilight of the Gods?
Edward Taylor replayed the translations William had given back at the museum. The characters, the meanings—they lined up. Too well.
Those strange symbols looked simple, but there was something deeper in them. If William had just been bluffing, there was no way he could've translated them so precisely, so casually.
He really could read the writing on the stele.
Edward's pupils shrank as he stared at William, his voice trembling with excitement. "Young man, is there anything else you want? Anything you like, I'll buy it for you."
William frowned. "I already told you—I'm only doing this because I'm in a good mood today. Keep pestering me, and I'll tell you to get lost."
Everyone around them froze.
Did… did someone just tell Edward Taylor to get lost?
Lila and the others were stunned. That was insane.
Even the staff behind Edward couldn't hold back anymore.
"He just knows a few characters—does he have to be this arrogant? Mr. Taylor, let's just go."
"Seriously, where did this punk even come from? I swear, I'd love to beat some manners into him."
Edward Taylor was trembling all over. His bodyguards thought he was about to blow a fuse. One of them stepped forward, ready to steady him and said, "Mr. Taylor, don't let him get to you. I'll go teach this brat a lesson right now—"
"Don't you dare!" Edward snapped, face flushed with emotion. He grabbed the guard's arm and quickly pulled out a business card, offering it to William with both hands. "William, right? If you're ever in the mood again… would you consider teaching me more of those characters?"
William didn't even look at the card. "We'll see if I feel like it. Now take your people and go. You're making it hard to enjoy a walk."
The only reason he'd translated anything at all was because Edward had been annoying.
He'd already gone over more characters than they originally agreed on.
Edward awkwardly pulled the card back and turned to his group. "Alright, that's enough. Everyone, clear out. And make sure William's things get delivered to his house."
William turned and walked off without another word. Lila had no choice but to follow.
She'd never seen anyone act this cocky before. Not even billionaires dared talk to Edward Taylor like that.
Sure, Edward wasn't rich, but his students were everywhere—top officials, industry giants, people with real power.
Offending Edward Taylor was basically asking to get buried.
And yet, after being told off, Edward was still this humble toward William. It was unreal.
"William… can't you be a little more polite to people?" Lila asked, trying to keep her voice even. She'd seen a glimpse of what he could do, sure—but his attitude was just too much.
William looked at her and blinked. "Haven't I been polite to you?"
Lila was speechless.
Polite? Was he serious?
He treated her like a personal assistant—no, more like a maid.
That's what he called polite?
"I think we've seen enough. I should head to work," William said, already losing interest.
No doubt, there were real antiques on this street. If he wanted to go treasure hunting, he could clean the place out without breaking a sweat.
But he didn't care about antiques.
If he wanted them, he could dig up any ancient tomb he pleased. There were more than enough buried treasures in the world.
To William, these so-called antiques weren't even that interesting.
Honestly, he found modern crafts more fun—especially the practical stuff. These days, everything just felt more comfortable to use.