Eric and Elena sprinted down the narrow street toward the pawnshop. Elena ran ahead, driven by raw desperation; Eric struggled to keep up while gripping the heavy backpack full of gold coins that clinked dangerously with every step. He feared that with one wrong move the zipper would burst and gold coins would roll across the street like shiny confetti — an absolute disaster.
When they turned the corner, both their hearts dropped.
The shop was engulfed in thick, black smoke pouring through the shattered windows like the breath of a beast. Flames were no longer visible, but the smell of fire was strong, fresh, violent.
Elena raised a hand to her mouth and released a loud, broken sob — almost a scream.
"No… no… my God…!"
Fortunately, a volunteer fire brigade that operated in the area — trained for small fires — was already working on the scene. The fire had been controlled before consuming the building completely. Smoke still puffed out in dense waves, but the worst had passed.
Elena ignored all warnings and rushed inside. Two firefighters tried to stop her.
"Miss, the area could still be hot!"
"I need to see!" she cried, pushing past them.
Eric followed immediately, panting, the weighty backpack swinging behind him.
Inside, the damage was clear. The ceiling was partly scorched, some walls blackened, glass displays shattered, and the floor was covered in ash mixed with burned wood fragments. But what made Elena collapse to her knees was something far more personal.
A pile of old books — her father's books — had been partially burned. Some were gone entirely, reduced to black dust.
"No… Dad… why…?"
Eric clenched his fist, staring at the destruction.
One of the firefighters approached, removing his helmet.
"We still don't know what caused it," he explained in a steady but sympathetic voice. "The police and investigators are on their way. But from the burn pattern… I'd say it was deliberate."
Elena lifted her face, pale as wax.
"D-deliberate? But why? Who would do that?"
"We asked the neighboring shops, but no one seems to have seen anything," the firefighter continued. "Or they don't want to talk."
Eric exchanged a quick glance with Elena.
They both knew exactly who might be responsible.
He guided Elena to a less-damaged part of the shop, away from the firefighters. She trembled, tears streaming down her face, unable to speak.
Eric placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Elena," he said, quiet but firm. "Tell me what you haven't told me yet. Why did they do this?"
She stepped back.
Closed her mouth.
Shook her head.
Eric lost control for an instant. He slammed his fist into the charred wall, startling even the firefighters.
"TELL ME THE TRUTH!" he shouted.
Elena sobbed, choking on her words.
"They… they said my debt doubled…"
"What do you mean doubled?" Eric asked, stunned.
"They want my house as payment, since I can't deliver anything my father owed."
Eric inhaled sharply, his face hardening with anger.
"So that's why you wouldn't take any help?"
Head lowered, Elena simply nodded.
"You really think paying will make them stop?" he pressed.
She shook her head, crying harder.
"So you've been dealing with this alone from the beginning? No help? No report to the police? Nothing?"
At those words, Elena finally broke.
She collapsed to the floor, crying so hard her voice echoed through the ruined shop.
It was despair tearing away her last defense.
It was the raw truth.
Eric hesitated, unsure how to comfort her.
Then a memory — a scene from an old movie of someone extending a hand to someone fallen — resurfaced.
He copied the gesture.
He held out his hand.
Elena lifted her tear-soaked face, eyes wide in surprise.
"My offer still stands," Eric said.
She swallowed her sobs.
"Even after this?"
"Especially after this," he replied. "But I'm adding a new condition."
"What condition?" she asked, voice trembling.
"A formal contract saying you agree to work exclusively for me. Do you accept?"
It was what he wanted from the start — but now he had a valid reason.
Elena looked around.
The shop was partially saved, but the fear of another attack throbbed in her chest like a blade.
The debts.
The threats.
Her entire life was on the verge of collapsing.
She wiped her tears with her sleeve, forcing herself to stand. Even so, she tried to appear firm, dignified, strong.
Standing tall, she looked Eric in the eye.
And shook his hand.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yes," Eric replied. "But first, you'll have to do something for me, Elena."
She blinked, anxious.
"What?"
"Set up a meeting with the idiots who did this."
Her face turned white — the color of molten silver.
"Are you drunk?" she asked, horrified.
Eric smiled strangely.
It wasn't madness.
It was a plan.
A bold, dangerous plan fueled by newfound confidence — the kind only someone with gold in their pocket could have.
"No," he said. "I've never been this sober in my life."
He turned toward the firefighters. From the backpack, he discreetly took out two gold coins and tossed one to each.
"What's this?" asked the brigade leader, confused.
"A reward for your quick help," Eric said.
As they examined the coin, both men went pale.
"This is… gold? We can't accept this!"
Eric smiled — a smile Elena had never seen before.
"You've already accepted," he said calmly.
"The real question now is: what should we do about people who think a human life is worth less than gold?"
The firefighters exchanged baffled looks.
Elena didn't understand either.
But she felt a strange shiver.
As if something had awakened inside Eric — something dangerous.
Eric was about to leave when he stopped at the doorway.
He turned slowly back to Elena.
"Don't forget," he said, with a tone between a command and concern.
"Arrange the meeting and tell me the place. Do it as soon as possible… or our agreement is off."
Then he walked out, leaving Elena staring at the smoke still rising from the ruins — and at the gold coins shining in the firefighters' hands.