A Bad Situation Gets Worse

Misuzu hesitated for just a second before unlocking the door. It was barely noticeable, but it was there.

Akemi and Tomo tensed up, instinctively sensing that something was off.

The door cracked open, and voices hit like a slap.

"Hah, why did you take so long? Planning to run?"

Two men stood outside. Different voices, same cocky, wannabe-tough-guy tone. The kind that made people want to roll their eyes.

They did not need to be seen to be recognized the type was obvious. Low-level goons, probably dressed like rejected extras from a budget gangster film.

Tomo and Akemi exchanged confused glances, clearly unaware of who these men were.

But Misuzu?

She knew.

She didn't react much, but there was a tiny twitch in her fingers. A stiffness in her shoulders before she forced them to relax.

She wasn't happy.

Not that the men cared.

They strolled in without hesitation, treating permission as a mere formality. Their eyes swept the room, barely acknowledging the extra person before moving on.

Then their focus locked onto the mother and daughter.

And when one of them licked his lips, slow and deliberate, the message was clear.

This was not just about money.

"Where is that swindler?" The shorter one spoke first. Brown hair, folded shirt, some tacky rose print that he likely thought made him look classy.

Misuzu barely held back an eye roll. She crossed her arms and responded flatly, her voice devoid of emotion. "Mother is sleeping. Her health is not good. And she is not a swindler."

"With the amount she owes? Yeah, I doubt that," the taller one sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

Debt collectors.

Misuzu's fingers twitched again just for a second. But her expression remained blank. Annoyed, maybe, but unsurprised. She had been through this before.

Tomo, however, had not.

Her scowl was locked and loaded.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, her tone sharp with irritation.

No self-control yet.

But the men ignored her, treating her presence as insignificant. Their focus remained on Misuzu.

"When are you going to pay?" the shorter one asked, sounding like a man who had practiced intimidation in front of a mirror. "We have already waited a month."

Misuzu squared her shoulders. "The time limit is a year." She tried to sound firm, but a slight tremor betrayed her.

"Does not matter," the taller man cut in, rolling his shoulders as if he were in a mafia movie. "We need money now."

Then he licked his lips.

Full. Slow. Deliberate.

"You pay in cash…" He let the words linger too long before his smirk turned even more unsettling.

"Or by something else."

Akemi finally had enough.

"If you need something, come back in the morning," she said, her voice calm but firm. That motherly tone the one that made even grown men rethink their choices. "Now is not the time for this conversation."

The shorter man scoffed. "This is between us and her," he shot back, jabbing a finger at Misuzu. "And it is our choice when we need to talk."

"Yeah," the taller one added, smirking. "When they took the money, they should have thought about what happens if they cannot pay up."

Akemi remained unfazed. "If this is about money, then you should be talking to her mother."

Reasoning did not matter. These men were not interested in talking.

The shorter man simply grinned, turning to his companion like they were discussing something casual.

"Man, we got lucky tonight. Three toys for free," he said, his eyes glinting with something disgusting. "Looks like it is going to be a colourful night."

The taller one let out a low chuckle. "Not three, but four. Do not forget her mother."

Then, with the slimiest grin yet, he added, "Also, I only like one colour. White."

Everything shifted.

Misuzu flinched. Just slightly, but she did. She took half a step back.

Tomo's jaw clenched, her shoulders locking in place.

Akemi's stance shifted subtly, as if calculating distances and outcomes.

And then it happened.

The moment their hands shot out to grab the women, chaos erupted.

The shorter man barely had time to react before a flower pot shattered against his face.

Ceramic exploded, dirt rained down, and he staggered back with a sharp curse, clutching his bleeding nose.

Akemi had already stepped forward after the throw, her expression cold and unwavering.

Tomo was just as fast.

She did not hesitate. Her foot snapped up in a powerful front kick, striking the taller one square in the gut.

The hit landed solid. A deep grunt tore from his throat as he doubled over slightly, but he did not go down.

The shorter one, still wiping blood from his mouth, forced himself back up, his face twisted with rage.

Misuzu had already turned, trying to bolt.

She almost made it.

Almost.

But the instant the shorter man noticed, his entire focus locked onto her.

And then he lunged.

There was no thought, no hesitation. He threw himself at her with the desperation of a rabid dog.

It was sloppy. Wild. But it worked.

His full weight crashed into her, sending them both to the ground.

"Ahhh!" Her scream tore through the room.

A loud slap cut through the air like a gunshot.

Her head snapped to the side.

"Shut up, bitch." His voice was cold, thick with something vile.

He yanked her up by the hair, forcing her to face him.

Her hands clawed at his grip, her breath shaky, panic flickering behind her eyes.

The taller man, still recovering from Tomo's kick, wasted no time.

He grabbed a chair, shoving it between himself and Tomo. Creating distance. Cutting off movement.

Then, slowly—almost enjoying the moment—he reached into his pocket.

A sharp click echoed through the room.

The others tensed, expecting a knife.

But instead of cold steel, the man pulled out… a small, shiny atomizer.