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AliNovel > Redo of a Romanceless Author鈥檚 Life Devoid of Love; Another Chance at Youth > Chapter 303.

Chapter 303.

    Chapter 303.<h4><b><strong>Chapter 303. My Birthday: </strong>Training Course. (2/8)</b></h4>


    <span style="font-weight:400">After a short three-minute drive, we reached the turnoff for the motorcycle dealership. I didn’t miss it.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Irene who saw that had a smug look on her face.


    <span style="font-weight:400">‘So you do want me to do whatever I want to you. How honest of you~’ With her right index finger on her lower lip, she transmitted those words to me through her eyes when I nced her way.


    <span style="font-weight:400">‘I just don’t want to somehow end upte.’ I signaled to her with an eye roll.


    <span style="font-weight:400">‘Sure, sure. I totally~ believe you~’ She conveyed back to me when she tilted her head to one side with one eye closed, the other half open, and a wide smile on her face.


    <span style="font-weight:400">With how intimate we were, we could convey a lot to each other through simple little gestures and our eyes. It wasn’t just with Irene though, it was the same with Rosa and Alicia. I also worked together with those two every other day during the week and the three of us had now lived together for over three months.


    <span style="font-weight:400">In the rear-view mirror, the two of them were having their own wordless conversation.


    <span style="font-weight:400">As for my interpretation of their own unspoken interaction, it was simply, ‘There’s something up with them.’


    <span style="font-weight:400">Alicia nodded back to Rosa in agreement.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Well, since I’d arrived at my destination, I made a run for it before I could be interrogated.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I parked up outside the entrance, quickly handed the keys over to Irene, popped the trunk, and dipped on her before they could ask anything. It was Irene’s problem now.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’ll see you guyster,” I said as I opened the door and exited the vehicle.


    <span style="font-weight:400">When I made my way around the back of the car, I retrieved my helmet from the trunk before I entered the building. On my way in, Irene wound down the window and said, “We’ll pick you upter. In the meantime, rather than waiting around doing nothing, I’ll let these two take turns practicing their driving.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sure.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Text me when you’re almost done, okay~?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I will.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">When I entered the dealership that offered the training course I approached the burly man behind the reception desk.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hi, I’m here to take the motorcycle training course.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Waz yer name, boy?” The receptionist had a coarse scruffy voice. The type one who’d smoked too much in their lifetime.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Ran... Sozen.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Good. My name’s Harley Gunner.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I didn’t ask. Of course I didn’t dare say that out loud to this scary-looking receptionist.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hmm, lez see ere… oh, there ya are. Can I see yer license, son?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sure… uh, here you go.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Honestly, I felt slightly intimidated by the rough way he spoke and how he was dressed. Even if you didn’t know where you were, his appearance reeked of biker.


    <span style="font-weight:400">He had a ck leather biker jacket on, faded blue jeans, and thick ck boots. His long messy gray hair hung down behind his back. He had a thick gray beard and mustache with a scar on his face over the bridge of his nose.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Why the hell was this guy working reception, he should be a scary instructor type, shouldn’t he? I mean, I get it’s a motorcycle dealership, that’s the image and all... but still. Isn’t this a bit extreme for a receptionist?


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Thanks, bud. Oh? Ya just got it today?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah. Is that a problem?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No. Is just a liddle surprisin. If ya failed yuh’d a wasted yer money yuh know.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Despite his intimidating demeanor, he still seemed like a nice enough guy. He was pretty friendly and weing. I guess you couldn’t judge a book by its cover.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, I really couldn’t wait.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I see. Ya just turn sixteen and yuh’re eager to hit the road. I totally understand, motorcycles are just too damn cool ta resist, right kid?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Huh? Uh, yeah, haha…” I was a bit caught off guard by his overly enthusiastic response. I just wasn’t the type to go crazy over something.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Waz with yer reaction! Ya don’t think they’re super cool!” He raised his voice and mmed his fist down as he leaned forward in his chair domineeringly.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, they’re cool. They’re really cool...” I raised my hands up and awkwardly waved them from side to side. I wanted to cry a bit. He could go from zero to a hundred real quick.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Right, hahaha! They’re super cool! Never forget that kiddo. Aight, I’ve checked ya in. Ya can go take a seat o’er there with the others, boy. The instructor should be ere soon ta start the ss.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">With our interaction over, I turned away from him and breathed out a sigh of relief. Bikers are scary, but it seems the biker’s receptionists are even scarier.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Well, now that I think about it, I guess he managed reception so tough guys who came here wouldn’t get any funny ideas. I imagine tough guys are more likely to frequent a ce like this after all.


    <span style="font-weight:400">They don’t want people stepping inside this ce thinking they can throw their weight around and do as they please. Since the receptionist was the first point of contact upon entering the dealership, it sort of made sense.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I headed over to where the intimidating receptionist pointed. The waiting area had nine seats, seven of which were currently taken. It was a boxed-off area with one side open, three seats on each wall. The right and far wall seats were all taken up by six burly-looking men.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Only one person was seated along the left wall. I immediately cursed to myself. It was taken up by a single woman.


    <span style="font-weight:400">She upied the center seat with her left foot resting on top of her right knee. She had ck pants on, but the left leg of it waspletely ripped off and revealed the entirety of her creamy white leg above thigh level. She had a ck leather jacket on. Her hands were stuffed into her jacket pockets.


    <span style="font-weight:400">She also had a ck face mask on, the only features of her face visible were her brown eyes, ears, and her burgundy brown hair with white highlights down the sides of her head.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Hah? What are you lookin at?” She asked in a domineering fashion when she noticed I was looking in her direction.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m looking at you, the weirdo wearing a face mask. What of it?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You wanna go?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m not interested in going anywhere.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Since there were no other chairs avable I was left with no choice but to sit beside the weird face mask girl. I approached the chair beside her but she spoke up again.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Sit somewhere else.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Somewhere else? Where do you expect me to sit if not here? Do you see any other seats avable?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">Another difficult woman? Two in one day? What’s with my abysmal luck?


    <span style="font-weight:400">“These two seats beside me are upied. You can’t sit in them.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“upied? By who exactly?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">She took her right hand out of her pocket and coolly pointed at herself.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You’re saying you’re upying all three seats at once?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, I am. You got a problem with that?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No. Not at all.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I walked past her and sat down in the corner seat beside her without caring for her childish nonsense.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I said I’m upying these seats, did you hear me give you permission to sit beside me?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“If you don’t want to sit beside me, you’re free to move over one seat. I don’t have the patience to put up with such childish nonsense.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You… called me a child?” Her voice was cold.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, I just said you’re being childish.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">When I examined the six burly men in front of me, for some reason they all looked uneasy. Why? Because of some girl?


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Heheheh… you must not be from around here.” Her chuckle wasn’t a friendly one, rather, it was quite eerie.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I am from around here.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, and you don’t know what the mask I have on represents?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I haven’t the slightest clue, nor do I care to know.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Aren’t you curious why these burly guys look uneasy?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Don’t know, don’t care. It’s none of my business.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Putting on an act of bravado? How brave of a scrawny guy like you. You’re probably terrified and uneasy right now just barely managing to maintain yourposure I bet.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Bravado? Barely maintaining myposure?” I looked over to her with one brow raised.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Oh? Did you suddenly realize who you’re speaking to?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Aren’t you just a weird chick with eighth-grader syndrome or something?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“E-Eighth-grader syndrome? W-What’s that?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Haaaah. You don’t even know that? Howmentable, to be ill and not even know. Truly a pitiful girl.”
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