The office worker sat down two rows ahead of Ashley, only a meter or two away. The position was perfect.
As Mai Mingle walked toward him step by step, she felt as if Ashley's gaze was pressing so hard against her skin it might leave eyeball-shaped indentations.
"Hello," she said, deliberately avoiding Ashley's gaze and speaking only to the office worker. "That label that says 'Mobile Reserved Seat'—you wrote that yourself, didn't you?"
The office worker glanced at her, his expression blank. "Yes. What about it?"
"Can you tear it off?"
Mai Mingle said urgently, "Since you wrote it yourself, you can obviously tear it off yourself too. Why insist on sticking it on the bus, making it move with me? I can't sit in any normal seats now. And I don't dare trust that 'Living Person's Seat.' Whatever your demand is, I'm willing to do my best to meet it. Can't we just talk this over and find a solution?"
