Rain drummed softly against the windows of the small flower shop, its rhythmic sound blending with the quiet hum of the city. Hana Mori tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she arranged a bouquet of tulips, her fingers deftly weaving stems together. The shop was her sanctuary—a place of peace and beauty that she had worked tirelessly to keep afloat since her father's sudden disappearance six months ago.
The bell above the door jingled unexpectedly, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Sorry, we're about to clo—" Her words caught in her throat as her gaze landed on the man who stepped inside.
He was tall and impeccably dressed, his black suit tailored so sharply it seemed to cut through the air around him. His presence filled the small space, commanding yet unnervingly calm. His dark eyes swept the room before settling on her, pinning her in place with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.
"Miss Mori," he said, his voice smooth and low.
"Yes?" she managed, her hands tightening on the bouquet.
The man took a slow step forward, the soft click of his shoes echoing in the silence. "Your father owes the Takahashi family three million yen."
Hana's blood ran cold. Her father. She hadn't heard his name spoken in months, not since he'd vanished in the middle of the night, leaving her with nothing but a stack of unpaid bills and the crumbling remnants of his poor decisions.
"I think you have the wrong person," she said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
The man's lips quirked in a faint, humorless smile. "Your father may have disappeared, but his debt hasn't. And unfortunately for you, the ledger doesn't care who pays."
Hana's fingers dug into the ribbon around the bouquet, her mind racing. She had suspected this day would come—she'd seen the letters and the ominous phone calls—but she had hoped against hope that the shadow her father had cast wouldn't catch up to her.
"I don't have that kind of money," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The man tilted his head slightly, studying her. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps?
"I'm not here to collect tonight," he said, pulling a sleek black notebook from his pocket. Flipping it open, he glanced at a page before snapping it shut again. "I wanted to see who was left holding the bag."
"That's generous of you," Hana said, her tone sharper than she intended.
The man raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her defiance. "Generosity isn't my usual approach. But I'll make an exception."
He reached into his jacket and placed a crisp white card on the counter. The name on it read: Riku Takahashi.
"I'll give you two weeks to come up with a repayment plan," he said. "If you don't…" His voice trailed off, but the unspoken threat hung heavy in the air.
Hana swallowed hard, her eyes flicking to the card. "And if I do?"
"Then we'll talk."
With that, he turned and walked toward the door, his presence leaving a void behind him. But just as he reached for the handle, he paused, glancing back at her.
"This shop…" he said, his tone softer now. "It's beautiful. A shame it's tied to such a mess."
Hana stared at him, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. "Thanks," she said, the word coming out more like a question.
Riku gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod before stepping out into the rain.
For a long moment, Hana stood frozen, her mind a whirlwind of fear, anger, and something she couldn't quite name. She looked down at the card on the counter, its stark white surface glaring up at her like a challenge.
Riku Takahashi. The name sent a chill down her spine, yet she couldn't deny the strange pull she had felt in his presence.
But there was no room for distractions. Her father had left her a mountain of problems, and now the most dangerous of them had a name and a face.
With trembling fingers, Hana picked up the card and slipped it into her pocket.
The rain outside continued to fall, each drop a reminder that the shadows her father had cast were now hers to face.