Joyce arrived at a Western restaurant and chose a cozy seat by the window.


    “Don’t you want a private room?” Clint suddenly asked, looking around with a clear sense of difort. His identity was noble, and he had never dined in the main hall before. He preferred a quiet environment and couldn’t tolerate dining with others around.


    Joyce looked around and noticed that the seat she chose was quite secluded. In theory, it would be difficult for others to notice them there.


    “Are you worried about safety? Alright then, I’ll get a private room,” she said.


    Joyce found Munin’s request reasonable. After all, he didn’t know who might be after him now. Perhaps the person who wanted to harm him had already arrived in Khebury, so it was better to be cautious.


    She stood up and said to the waiter, “Please get us a private room.”


    However, the waiter apologized, saying, “I’m sorry, but all the private rooms are fully booked at this time. This is the most secluded seat we have.”


    Joyce frowned and asked, tilting her head, “What if we make do with this seat?”


    Clint reluctantly agreed, “Fine.”


    But he still couldn’t hide his difort.


    The waiter handed them two menus and said, “As a gesture of apology, we’ll offer you two sses of our signature red wine.”


    “No need, I don’t drink,” Clint declined directly.


    Joyce nced at him and thought to herself that he had a heart condition, so it was normal for him not to drink.


    In reality, Clint’s reason was different. He thought theplimentary wine was too low-grade. Normally, he only drank red wine from specific wineries. Anything below Lafite level was not worth his attention.


    “You can choose whatever you want to eat. Order for yourself,” Joyce said, extending her hand, indicating Clint to make his selection.


    Clint nced over the menu and casually ordered four or five dishes, including appetizers, starters, main courses, and desserts.


    When cing the order, Joyce paid attention to what he chose.


    She slightly smiled and said, “You seem to be quite familiar with Western cuisine and know how to order. ”


    Clint closed the menu and replied, “Really? I just ordered based on my instincts. I don’t remember what food I like or dislike, or if I have any allergies.”


    “You can’t remember anything rted to yourself?” Joyce curiously asked because Luther had also experienced temporary memory loss before, losing some memories due to the effects of medication.


    Clint shook his head.


    “I think I only forgot about people and events. Computers, phones, andnguage literacy seem fine,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fine like this. Forgetting who I am allows me to forget the things I need to go through. Perhaps they were all painful things, and it’s better not to remember.”


    “Heh, maybe there were also happy things. Don’t think too much. Everything will be alright,” Joyce consoled him with a few words.


    Shortly after, the waiter brought their food.


    First came the appetizers and starters, followed by the main course.


    The main course consisted of Australian lobster, king crab, deep-sea abalone slices, and caviar truffle, a seafood gourmet dish with a hint of yellow mustard seasoning. It was apanied by a small portion of tri-color quinoa rice ball. The overallbination was very healthy.


    Joyce tried it and found the taste to be good. It waspletely different from the dishes she usually ordered.


    “Munin, your taste leans towards Japanese cuisine,” she concluded. “A person’s habits are the hardest to change. I think you must have loved Japanese cuisine in the past.”


    Clint’s hand holding the fork suddenly stiffened as he realized his oversight. He had disguised himself as a citizen of Country W, but he had forgotten to conceal his preferences and habits.


    He awkwardly cut through the te with his knife, pretending to be nonchnt as he speared a piece of crab leg and chewed slowly.


    “Is that so? Maybe. I just thought the picture looked nice, and the taste… well, it was alright.”


    He gave a vague and evasive response. Joyce didn’t say anything further.


    She was in a hurry, wanting to finish the meal quickly, send Munin back to the apartment, and then attend to some business so she could go home earlier. Anderson and Alisha were waiting for her at home.


    Clint silently ate, no longer speaking. He carefully avoided showing any ws.


    As Joyce finished eating long before him, she looked up and saw him still chewing slowly. She sat up straight and patiently waited for him.


    During the wait, Joyce suddenly noticed something: the way Munin dined, from his posture to his knife skills, even his chewing demeanor, exuded an indescribable nobility and elegance.


    To some extent, it was reminiscent of Luther.


    Elegance is not innate; it must be cultivated over a long period of time in the right environment.


    She squinted her eyes, feeling a hint of perplexity. She sensed that the man in front of her seemed toe from a noble background, not an ordinary person.


    Clint felt her scrutinizing gaze.


    He looked up and asked, “What’s wrong? Do you have any questions?”


    Joyce shook her head, choosing not to voice her thoughts.


    “I contacted the bodyguard just now. They’ll send you back soon. You should take the time to rest in the apartment. Let your body recover first,” she said.


    Clint nodded. “Okay.”


    After a while, he finally finished his lunch. He gently wiped his slightly pale lips with a wet tissue. asionally, a trace of illness would surface, evoking a sense of sympathy.


    Joyce called the waiter to pay the bill.


    When settling the payment, she scanned with her phone and paid around three thousand dors. Normally, this meal would be quite expensive, beyond the means of an average person. But she didn’t mind.


    “Alright, let’s go,” Joyce smiled.


    “Wait…” Clint suddenly paused.


    “What’s the matter?” Joyce had just stood up but sat back down, looking puzzled. “Do you have something else to say?”


    “Normally, it should be the man treating the woman to a meal. Yet, I shamelessly let you pay,” Clint’s expression revealed a hint of embarrassment.


    Joyce couldn’t help but chuckle. “I didn’t expect you to have such a traditional mindset. So, women can’t treat someone to a meal?”


    “It’s not that,” Clint shook his head. “I can’t just take advantage of you and live off you without feeling guilty.”


    Joyce furrowed her brow. “Your situation is special now. There’s no other way. If you recover your memory in the future, you can treat me to a meal.”


    “Or else, I can work for you. How about that?” Clint suddenly spoke up.


    “Work?” Joyce widened her beautiful eyes, momentarily taken aback.


    “Yes. I remember how to use aputer. I nced at a few blueprints in your office earlier and felt like I could understand them. Since I have amnesia and no money, I can’t just rely on you for everything. So, I want to work at yourpany. You can pay me a sry, and that way, I can have a ce to stay, spend money, and eat without feeling guilty,” Clint said with a faint smile. Entering Joyce’spany was his true objective.


    Joyce was stunned. “Um, let me think about it.”


    “Sure,” Clint slightly curved his lips, his smile faint.Text ? owned by N?velDrama.Org.