The Curse of the Angry Steamed Fish

Leona’s day dragged infinitely, with her luck getting progressively worse. She was permitted to eat the angry-looking head of a steamed fish staring at her from its dish and the slightly burnt crispy rice from the bottom of the pot. Thanks to the hideous brunch, she entered the janitorial supplies room in low spirits. The mafia boss was simply too cruel! Couldn’t he give her the leftovers from his luxurious meal? What a waste!

It was cramped, but at least Leona felt a little safer hiding here than waiting in the presence of the big bad handsome boss. Superstitious or not, Leona whole-heartedly believed that her bad day was thanks to the angry steamed fish head’s curse.

She panned her sight around the room that smelled heavily like cleaning chemicals. A shelf full of cleaning supplies like detergent powder and rags was conveniently located beside the door. A dry mop leaned against the shelf, inspiring Leona to use it as a weapon should someone pay her a nightly visit. The well-read writer knew that long or bulky objects could be used to barricade doors. Leona’s twig-like arms might not be able to shift an entire shelf, but surely a mop would stall intruders for a while.

If she were a regular cleaning staff, the extensive range of cleaning products available would delight her. However, she was, but a lowly hostage meant to sleep in here. More cleaning products meant lesser legroom. The detergent powder came in containers instead of packets, so there wasn’t anything the poor writer could use as a pillow. How awful!

Knowing that it would not do her any good to recall her previous predicaments, the ginger head looked around the room, trying to find the most comfortable spot. After testing every fittable nook and cranny, she decided it didn’t really matter. If she slept straight, her head would hit the mop sink. If she curled, her back would hit the wall. Unless she could levitate, sleeping in this place would only result in bodily pain of some kind the next day.

Although her future was bleak, Leona was gingeromance628 - an author who never gave up! As she chanted this motto repeatedly, she wondered when lady luck would visit her. Her energy returned a little with the forced adrenaline rush but soon returned at twice the intensity after only a few seconds as she sat behind the door. It was a quick losing battle against fatigue when the stress left her body, and the sleep took over. Her eyelids fell shut as breathing evened, taking her to a dreamless sleep land offering a moment’s reprieve from the harsh reality.

As Leona drifted off to dreamland, Ignatius returned to his study and resumed work. He had several test reports about the Teivel clan's bullet project to go through, but the report was long-winded and monotonous, elaborating on the performance of each propellant, including Einstein's notes. Einstein, that mysterious scientist, never revealed his identity. However, Ignatius didn’t doubt the man’s loyalty as he was someone the late Teivel boss trusted a lot.

After reading several graphs and going through numerous tables, Ignatius found himself suppressing more yawns. He was quite tempted to lie down on the sofa, but work wouldn’t complete itself. He had to weigh the pros and cons to decide which project to focus on from the five prototypes.

The coffee he drank didn’t help, and Ignatius felt glum until a brilliant idea struck him. If he were feeling sleepy because the report was too dry, he’d just need some side amusement to work better.

“You,” he called one of the guards on standby. "Bring me Leona Sandersmith. Tell her to clean this room."

Bowing briefly, the guard turned and headed for the janitorial supplies room. He flung open the door without hesitation with full force from the urgency of his assignment and was slightly surprised by the door bouncing back towards with him a scream of agony accompanying it.

Every now and then, Leona would fall off her bed and wake up in pain. The writer long grew accustomed to it. However, her skull felt like it was about to crack open this time, and it certainly wasn’t something that would happen if she fell from her bed.

“The boss requested for you,” the guard spoke. Looking at the pained tears, he felt slightly guilty for the injury caused. However, he couldn’t possibly be blamed for not knowing that she was sitting behind the door directly. Who in their right mind would do such a stupid thing?

Suppressing the urge to kill this guard for waking her up in such a manner and the tears that wanted to escape, Leona tried to keep her voice even.

“What does he want?”

“He needs you to clean his study,” the guard replied and watched as the boss’ new pet bit her lower lip with an unreadable expression. For a civilian hostage, she was certainly very tough.

After the sharp pain subsided and Leona confirmed that her skull wasn’t cracked or bleeding, the writer got up wobbly. What did she do to deserve such abuse? The guard didn’t even look the slightest bit apologetic as he roughly shoved her when she was walking too slowly. Honestly, if Leona ever got her chance, she would probably turn him into a lousy NPC in her story who was always mauled by a dog each time he appeared. The thought comforted her a little, but the bump at the back of her head throbbed painfully.

The more Leona thought about her situation, the stranger it sounded. She suffered a lot from poverty, but she was never treated like a pushover. Were normal captives really ordered to clean their kidnapper's place? It made little sense to Leona that a rich crime lord to kidnap someone just to have a free cleaning slave. Moreover, he was a crime lord who enjoyed watching her poor cleaning skills, almost as if he was simply looking for a reason to punish her!

The whole situation was ridiculous. This mafia boss either had a crack in his head or was too bored with his life. Leona bet it was both. However, until she found a way to escape this obsessive nutcase, she had to lay low.

With a broom and several dry rags in hand, she followed the guard to her kidnapper’s study.

Similar to the bedroom, the study was decorated with a dark-themed interior. Two large bookshelves framed the simple black modern desk. The room was as spotless as she remembered it to be a while ago. However, there was something she didn’t notice earlier because of all the nerves.

Now that she was more rested, ignoring the throbbing bump at the back of her head, Leona noticed the rows of books adorning the shelves behind. Who would have thought that the mafia boss was a collector of books? Suddenly, Leona thought that he might be secretly well-read. Looks were rather deceiving, and learning about his new possible past-time made her opinion of him a little more favourable.

“Start cleaning,” Ignatius’ deep voice growled behind her ear, snapping her out of the reverie.

Leona's heart almost jumped out of her chest when she heard his sexy voice. Instinctively, she turned her head in his direction, making her head throb at the sudden action. Thankfully, her hands were occupied, and she didn't punch him in the face on reflex. It would be tragic to become shark food before she could escape.

Time stilled for a moment as her gaze was glued to his striking gray irises. It felt like she was staring at two moons. The space between them vanished as if they were isolated in a void without any gravity grounding them. Leona studied his gunmetal gray eyes and felt a slight blush forming. For some reason, against her better logic, she couldn't deny the desire to know him better. Their surroundings quietened, and all Leona could hear was her own heartbeat.

Could he be one of the handsome CEOs that the naive female lead could fall for? Ignatius would be perfect boyfriend material if not for his shady identity and overly domineering personality.

Observing Leona Sandermsith was becoming one of Ignatius’ favourite pastimes. He would never tire of watching this strange woman and testing her to learn her reactions. Compared to all the other women in his life, she was a strange one. Her personality was refreshing, and just by being in her presence, the most tedious tasks could end up fun.

Eventually, Leona realised how long she had been staring at his handsome face and stepped sideways. Ignatius didn’t say anything about it as he continued observing her with great interest, making the writer feel all sorts of strange. Why the heck was she mesmerized by his handsome face? She shouldn't be swayed by superficial beauty, dammit! Her most recent tidal wave of misfortune was only happening because of this damn kidnapper!

Leona knew she was an unlucky writer. Yet, she never expected her unluckiness to kick her when she was down. It was as if the goddess of misfortune didn’t have enough fun from her situation and staged an invisible rock on the floor to trip her.

Like clockwork, Ignatius reached for Leona's arm and pulled her into his embrace when the clumsy writer tripped over nothing in an attempt to put more distance between them. A part of him wondered why his body reacted faster than his mind, and another part of him simply wanted to know why she was so light.

As strong arms enveloped her into a broad chest, Leona felt her cheeks heat up. She quickly turned away to avoid her kidnapper's gaze. Why was it suddenly so hot? Did the air conditioner break? Leona hoped it wasn’t the case. She didn’t know how to fix air conditioners, and knowing the evil temperament of the devil embracing her, he might tell her to fix it, so he had a new reason to punish her.

Calm as a cucumber, Ignatius released Leona's arm and returned to his seat without a word. He noticed how Leona gripped the broom like a lifeline and decided to give her some space. Like a small animal, Leona scurried away to complete the cleaning assignment. Her panicked appearance was adorable too.

As Leona cleaned the sparkly office, Ignatius stole frequent glances at his hostage, who was trying oddly hard to complete the simple task. Having Leona around helped to fend off his sleepiness, and Ignatius smirked. She was better than any of his expensive coffee capsules.

Leaving the dry rags for now, Leona started sweeping the floor. There was hardly any dust where she could see. Will the scary mobster give her an angry steamed duck head if she returned with an empty dustpan? Leona shuddered. The curse of an angry steamed fish head was frightening enough. The lump at the back of her head made her extremely miserable. She didn’t need another curse on top of it!

Thinking hard, Leona remembered that dust bunnies usually liked to collect at the corners of the room or under large furniture. Hence, she approached the sofa and knelt down, putting one ear close to the ground as she tried to reach as far as she could beneath.

In Ignatius’ peripheral vision, he saw the odd little wiggling movement Leona did while prostrating on the ground and couldn’t help but laugh a little. What was his little bunny doing?

Despite her efforts to find any dust bunnies in all sorts of nook and crannies, Leona’s dustpan remained sparkly. Worried that her kidnapper might starve her because of the lack of results, Leona decided to put the broom away and grabbed a rag. She might have more luck cleaning the shelves instead.

Looking at the sparsely furnished home office, Leona knew that the safest place to start cleaning was in a spot away from Ignatius or out of his sight. Scanning the room, Leona cleaned the bookshelves behind Ignatius’ chair. Maybe she could spy on what he was doing in that position and find a clue about this place and its layout!

Sneakily, Leona pretended to wipe the furniture from where she was until she made her way over to the back of Ignatius’ desk.

Reaching his bookshelves, the writer soon realised with dismay that a privacy screen protector prevented her from seeing what he was doing! Frustrated but also a little comforted by her new location, Leona took the time to admire Ignatius’s lofty bookshelves as she cleaned. She started from the bottom shelf and slowly worked her way upwards while studying the books he collected.

There were labels for every section on the shelves, dividing them into their genres and subcategories. Leona didn’t expect the mafia boss to be so meticulous about his collection, and the labelling made her feel like she was staring at a private library instead. Curious about the kind of books a mafia boss would keep in his house, Leona expected to see some dangerous books like “How to Hide a Body for Dummies” or even “Gun Building for Beginners”. However, what she saw was slightly disappointing.

There were heaps of books that anyone interested in economics, politics, business management and stock trading on the shelves that anyone could buy online. Some books were expensive, but there wasn’t anything impressive that interested Leona. Ignatius was a rather boring person judging by the seriousness of the titles on his shelves. Nothing piqued her interest, and the disappointed writer simply cleaned without even bothering to give these tomes a second glance.

Usually, a person would only buy such books for two reasons. The first reason was to show how knowledgeable they were and used for bragging purposes when visitors came. Leona doubted Ignatius bought them for bragging because this was his illegal hideout that not many people should visit.

That meant that he bought them for the second reason. Despite his appearance, the mafia boss was a really serious learner and a huge nerd. The subjects covered in these books were often too dry and boring. Leona didn’t know how people could read those long-winded books without falling asleep.

As she continued to wipe the shelves with plenty of judging, the unexpected happened. Right on the bottom of the second bookshelf, Leona saw something she never expected to find in such a place.