Two weeks. Hana had two weeks to come up with three million yen. It was a sum that loomed over her like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over every thought, every action.
She paced the back room of the flower shop, a small, cluttered space where vases, dried flowers, and gardening tools were scattered about. The smell of fresh blossoms filled the air, but it did little to mask the tightness in her chest. The soft glow from the neon sign outside filtered through the shop's windows, casting an eerie light on the walls.
Hana's father had always been a man who made promises but never kept them. His debts had spiraled out of control, and now his absence left her to face the consequences of his mistakes. She had known for months that someone would come looking for payment, but she hadn't expected it to be someone like Riku Takahashi.
Her fingers trembled as she set a vase on the counter. His presence had unsettled her, but it wasn't just his cold, calculating demeanor that had affected her. It was the way he had looked at her—the way his eyes had lingered, his words slipping into something unspoken. It was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull she felt when he was near, but she quickly shoved that feeling aside.
There was no room for emotions in this situation. She had a deadline.
The shop's doorbell chimed as someone entered, breaking her thoughts. She turned to see an elderly woman shuffling inside, holding a weathered umbrella. Her face was familiar, though she couldn't place her name right away.
"Good evening, Mrs. Sato," Hana said with a warm smile.
The woman nodded, a weak smile of her own gracing her lips. "I need a bouquet for my granddaughter's wedding. Nothing too fancy, just something simple and beautiful."
Hana's heart ached. She had always taken pride in the beauty of the flowers she arranged, but the task of creating something lovely now felt hollow, as though the weight of her debt had seeped into everything she did.
"I can do that for you," Hana replied, masking her inner turmoil with a practiced smile. "Would you like roses, or perhaps peonies?"
"Peonies," Mrs. Sato said, her eyes glistening. "She loves peonies. I want her to feel like a queen."
Hana nodded and set to work, her hands moving mechanically as she prepared the bouquet. The simplicity of the task helped clear her mind for a few moments. But it didn't last.
The thoughts of Riku Takahashi returned. She couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't ignore the sense of foreboding that followed his visit. He had been calm, too calm, and his words had been wrapped in a veil of politeness, but Hana could feel the weight of his power beneath them. He wasn't just some businessman—he was a force, and she knew it.
"Here you go," Hana said, presenting the finished bouquet to Mrs. Sato. The woman took it, her hands trembling as she admired the arrangement.
"Thank you, Hana," she said softly. "You're a good girl."
Hana's throat tightened. It was hard to hear words like that when she knew she was failing in so many ways. She had always worked hard to make her father proud, but now that he was gone, she felt like she was just fumbling through life.
After Mrs. Sato left, Hana closed the shop early, the weight of the night's events pressing on her. The streets were dark and quiet as she walked home, the cold air biting at her skin. Her thoughts were consumed by the looming deadline and the feeling that time was running out.
She unlocked the door to her small apartment and stepped inside. The dim light from the kitchen illuminated the sparse space—just a few pieces of furniture, a small table, and a stack of unpaid bills on the counter. The rest of her life seemed to be hidden behind those bills, things she didn't want to face.
She sank into the couch, her head resting in her hands. Her father had always told her everything would be fine as long as she kept working hard. But now, the reality of his promises—his lies—was crashing down on her.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw a message from an unknown number.
Miss Mori, I trust you're aware of the timeline. Let me know if you've come up with a solution. Riku Takahashi.
Her heart skipped a beat. The text was brief, almost casual, but it sent a chill down her spine. She quickly typed a response:
I'm working on it. Please give me more time.
She stared at the screen for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the send button. But after a beat, she deleted the message and simply replied:
I'll contact you soon.
It wasn't a promise—just a stalling tactic. But it would buy her some time. Hana set the phone down and leaned back, closing her eyes. She couldn't keep pushing this off. The man who had come into her shop was part of a world she couldn't understand, a world where debts were paid in blood, and she wasn't sure she had the strength to fight it.
The next morning, Hana opened the shop early, hoping to find some distraction in the comforting task of arranging flowers. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, and the soft morning light filtered through the windows. The shop was quiet, peaceful, until the bell rang again.
This time, it was a familiar face—a man in a well-worn suit.
"Mr. Kato," Hana greeted, trying to smile. He was one of her regular customers, a local businessman who came by often to buy flowers for his wife.
"Morning, Miss Mori," Mr. Kato said with a warm smile. "I need something special for my anniversary. Can you help me pick out something for my wife?"
"Of course," Hana said, trying to focus. "What kind of flowers does she like?"
As she helped Mr. Kato, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Every moment felt like it was slipping away, like she was racing against time. The pressure was mounting, and soon enough, Riku's deadline would come crashing down on her.
And she would be forced to make a choice.