Mousse’s Residence…
Mousse sat on the large sofa in the room, elbows resting on his knees, his sharp, piercing black eyes fixed on Cécilia and Cédric. The scene unfolding before him could have easily sparked a storm, but Mousse held back, gathering every ounce of control to prevent the rage boiling inside him from erupting. Cécilia, on the other hand, trembled and sobbed, unable to form a coherent sentence. Her eyes, red from tears, locked onto Mousse with desperation. As for Cédric, he was sweating profusely, his body as tense as a spring, desperately seeking an escape from this inextricable situation.
Mousse watched them, his calculating gaze analyzing every movement they made. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his deep voice resonating in the room like thunder, as he turned toward Cédric.
— "What’s your name, bro?" he asked calmly.