Just before 11 p.m., Miyuki glanced at the wall clock and frowned. Where the hell is he…?
She pulled out her phone and dialed. The line rang and rang, but no one picked up.
"That bastard," she muttered under her breath.
"What's got you so angry, Saitō-san?"
A deep voice rolled across the counter. She looked up to see Kawahara Shun, the tall, bald man in his thirties who often worked the late shift. He set a pack of cigarettes down, his expression calm but curious.
"Oh, nothing, Kawahara-san. The next shift guy still hasn't shown up yet."
"Ahh," Shun grunted. "Did you call him?"
"Yeah, but he's not picking up."
"That's unfortunate," he said with a half-smile, fishing for coins in his pocket.
"Ok, good night, Saitō-san. See you later."
"Bye. Good night."
Miyuki watched Kawahara leave, the store bell chiming softly behind him. The road outside had gone completely silent—no cars, no footsteps, only the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead.
About ten minutes later, the glass doors slid open with a sharp hiss.
Three men walked in.
Their sneakers squeaked against the floor tiles as they spread out casually, but the look in their eyes wasn't that of customers.
"Hey, bitch." The one in the middle grinned, gold tooth flashing under the light. "You still didn't pay this month's installment."
Miyuki froze, the color draining from her face. "Y-yah, I know… I'm just gathering the money. I'll pay as soon as I get it."
"Huh? So you don't have it."
The man on the left grabbed her collar and choked her against the counter, his breath reeking of alcohol.
"How many fucking times do I have to tell you—pay money on time!"
Her hands clawed at his wrist, eyes wide. "S-sorry, I don't have enough. I'll pay as soon as tomorrow, please!"
The man shoved her back, laughing cruelly. "Fucking bitch… Sell your body, your kidneys—I don't care. Pay the debt on time."
The third one leaned forward with a mocking smile. "Otherwise… send your brat to work for us."
Miyuki's blood ran cold. "No—please! Don't touch him! I'll pay it, I swear!"
The man shoved Miyuki hard.
She stumbled backward, legs hitting the shelf, and crashed onto the cold floor. Snack packets rained down around her.
Another thug lazily pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Boss. This Saitō bitch says she doesn't have money right now… says she'll adjust the remaining cash tomorrow."
A pause. A deep voice rumbled faintly through the speaker.
"Hm. Okay… okay."
The thug smirked and ended the call. He crouched down, grabbed Miyuki's chin with rough fingers, and forced her to meet his eyes.
"Tomorrow. At twelve. We'll be at your home. Keep the money ready. Otherwise…" His smile widened. "You know."
He let go, her head snapping back lightly from the release, and all three turned to leave.
The automatic doors hissed shut behind them. Silence returned to the convenience store.
Miyuki sat frozen on the floor, trembling violently. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body refusing to move. Her hands pressed against her knees, shaking uncontrollably.
"…Twelve… tomorrow…" she whispered to herself, eyes clouded with dread.
Her legs barely obeyed her. Still trembling, Miyuki staggered to the counter, nearly tripping over her own feet. She grabbed her phone with both hands, but they were shaking so violently the device almost slipped from her sweaty palms.
"Come on… come on…" she muttered, frantically stabbing the call button.
The line rang; no answer.
She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, red dripping faintly down her chin.
She tried again. Still nothing.
Her chest tightened, tears blurring her vision.
A third time.
Finally—click.
A harsh whisper hissed through the speaker.
"Why the fuck are you calling me now? My wife will kill me if she hears."
Miyuki's voice cracked. "M-Manager… I urgently need fifty thousand yen. Please…"
There was a pause. Then an annoyed snort.
"What money? I already advanced you forty-five percent of next month's salary. Don't play dumb with me."
Her knees buckled; she clutched the counter to keep from collapsing.
"Please… I'm in deep trouble. I'll return it; just help me, please…"
On the other end, his tone lowered to a slimy whisper, words dripping with contempt:
"I also paid you for sex. Ten thousand yen, every time. Don't act like you forgot, bitch."
Miyuki squeezed her eyes shut, humiliated, but forced herself to answer. "I know… I know… But this time it's different. I swear, I'll do anything."
He let the silence stretch, enjoying her desperation.
Finally, he said, "Okay… I'll give you the remaining salary for next month. But in return, you're coming with me. Love hotel. And this time, it's free."
Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment she thought she'd collapse. Then, wiping hot tears with the back of her trembling hand, she whispered the word that tasted like poison:
"…Done."
"Heh. Good girl. I'll transfer the money in the morning. Don't call me again; I'll call you. Got it?"
"I… I want it before twelve. Please…" she begged, voice tiny.
"Yeah, yeah. Before twelve." He chuckled under his breath, then muttered one last time:
"Fucking bitch."
Click.
The line went dead.
Miyuki stared at the black screen of her phone, the reflection of her tear-streaked face staring back. Her whole body shook, her throat dry as dust. Slowly, she slid down against the counter, hugging her knees, whispering to herself like a prayer:
"…Just one more time… just one more time… if it keeps Haru safe…"