Ren is on the ground, panting from the brief encounter with the thugs. His body aches where they'd shoved and struck him, but it's the sting of Eva's words that cuts the deepest.
Eva looks down at him, her arms crossed, her face twisted in disdain. "Useless," she mutters, her voice low but sharp. "You can't even do something properly. Next time, don't get in the way." Without another word, she turns on her heel and strides back into the restaurant, leaving Ren lying there, his body and pride bruised.
As she disappears through the door, Ren's thoughts spiral. You dragged me into this, you bitch, he thinks, gritting his teeth. I tried to help you, and this is what I get? You call me useless? After I got beaten because of you? Just you wait, I'll wait, soon I'll be pounding that bitch ass of yours.
He takes a breath and forces himself to stand, wincing as his stomach protests. His knuckles are scraped from hitting the ground, and his body is sore. He clenches his fists, the fury boiling just beneath his skin. This is bullshit. I must practice even harder and push myself to get stronger quickly.
He dusts off his clothes and heads in. Inside, everyone is staring at Ren and Eva in silence. But just as then, Eva's voice pierces through the silence, sharp and impatient. "Ren! Those boxes by the door—move them inside, and do it fast!" she dismisses everything that just happened and takes on her usual rude self.
Ren glances at the stack of boxes by the door, the last thing he wants to deal with right now. His rage simmers, bubbling closer and closer to the surface. He turns and takes a few steps forward but suddenly stops there. He can't hold it back any longer. He can't continue to be like this. Not this time
He tells her, his voice low but firm. "You know what, I won't do it."
Eva stops mid-step, her face a mixture of disbelief and anger. She turns to look at him. "Wha, what."
He turns and looks at her in the eyes and repeats, "I said I won't do it," his voice brimming with frustration. "This isn't my job, and I'm not getting paid to haul boxes around."
The air stills. The employees pause at his words, their eyes darting to him. No one talks to her like that. No one denies her like that, especially not Ren, more like he can't.
The restaurant seems to hold its breath. Plates are left half-cleaned, and orders half-written. No one dares to move as Ren squares his shoulders, glaring back at Eva. The words have left his mouth, and there's no taking them back now.
Eva's face flushes crimson, anger bubbling to the surface. "What the hell do you mean it's not your job? You think I'm going to pay you extra for lifting a few boxes? You work here, don't you?"
Ren's frustration spills over, every word sharpening as he speaks. "A few boxes? You've been using me for everything since I started working here! You dragged me into that crap outside with the thugs, and I got beat up trying to help you! And you call me useless?" His hands shake with the force of his emotions. "I'm done. I'm not doing anything I'm not paid for them."
Eva's jaw clenches as she steps closer, trying to intimidate him. Her voice lowers, but the venom in it is unmistakable. "Don't you dare talk to me like that? I can fire you right now, Ren. You're lucky to even have this job—you don't exactly work hard enough to deserve more."
Ren barks out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Lucky? You know damn well I do more than what I'm paid for. You're just using me because you can."
His hands tighten into fists, the tension in his body ready to snap. "Fire me then! Go ahead!" His voice rings through the restaurant. "I'm tired of working here anyway. Might as well quit now than later."
Looking at his confidence, Eva hesitates. She opens her mouth to snap back, but the words die on her tongue. She knows he's right. She can't fire him—not without making her own life harder. He's been doing all the heavy lifting, literally and figuratively, and finding someone else to fill his shoes won't be easy. Not when she's squeezed every ounce of work out of him for as little pay as possible.
Her cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment, her fists clenching at her sides. She lets out a sharp breath through her nose before spitting out her next words. "Fine. I'll pay you some extra for helping out with the heavy lifting. But remember this, if you ever talk to me like that again, I'll fire you on the spot. Understand?"
Ren's lips curl into a sneer, the frustration still burning in his chest. "Don't worry, I won't be here long enough for you to fire me."
Eva glares at him, then turns on her heel and storms back toward the kitchen, her face red with a mix of fury and something close to fear. She can't control him like she used to, and she knows it.
The entire restaurant is silent. Ren can feel the eyes of the other employees on him, their expressions a mix of shock, awe, and fear. No one has ever spoken to Eva like that, and certainly not Ren, the guy who used to take everything she threw at him.
Lila, one of the waitresses, stands by the counter, her eyes wide. She seems too stunned to speak, her gaze flicking between Ren and Eva's retreating figure.
Ren doesn't wait for anyone to say anything. He's too pissed off, too fed up to care about what anyone else thinks. Without another word, he steps outside and begins to move in the boxes. He then grabs his bicycle from where it's chained outside and heads out for deliveries, even though his body screams in protest. The anger still thrums through him, the confrontation not nearly enough to calm the storm brewing in his chest.
Ren's legs pump furiously as he pedals through the streets, weaving between pedestrians and cars, but no matter how fast he rides, he can't outrun the frustration burning inside him. His mind races back to Eva's words, to the way she dismissed him, called him useless—again and again.
He skids to a stop outside his first delivery location. The apartment building looms above him, the door buzzer mocking him with its silence. After a moment, the door opens, and a customer walks out, barely glancing at Ren as they take the food. No thanks. No tip.
Ren's teeth grind together as he grips the handlebars of his bike. The small, petty part of him wants to use his powers—just a little nudge, just enough to send the guy tripping over his own feet as he walks away. But he doesn't. Not yet. Not here.
After two more deliveries, Ren finds himself back at the restaurant, his frustration still simmering just below the surface. He leans his bicycle against the wall, the metal chain clinking as he locks it up.
He steps inside, ready to grab his next order, but as soon as he walks through the door, he sees her again—Eva, standing behind the counter, her eyes flicking toward him before quickly looking away.
Good. Let her be scared. Let her wonder when I'll snap again.
Ren's lips curl into a smirk as he wipes his hands on his pants, preparing for the next round of deliveries. The rage inside him hasn't cooled, not by a long shot. But today was a step in the right direction. She's going to pay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but that day is not far.
Just you wait, Eva.