"By the way… I haven't really apologized for kicking Merth out on the first day of LEAVEN."
Foca glanced at Cole. "I did promise I'd give him a chance. And then I immediately kicked him out."
He wasn't sorry about kicking the brat out. Not even a little. If anything, he was sorry that Cole had to deal with the radioactive fallout of his brother being launched into orbit.
"Oh, don't worry about it," Cole said with a shrug. "It was the fucker's fault anyway."
The tone was flat, final—hands washed, case closed, soul at peace.
"Oof…" Luca winced. "Sounds like the brat was a handful." Genuine sympathy, seasoned with trauma.
"Argh!" Pearl groaned. "Just thinking about it is giving me a headache." She rolled her eyes so hard they almost escaped her skull.
"You know that brat ain't never had nothin' nice," Tuesday scoffed. "And I feel sorry for y'all—having to deal with a spoiled little menace." She patted Pearl's arm like someone offering condolences at a funeral.
Pearl and Cole could only sigh. The kind of sigh that comes from long-term exposure to bullshit.
Then—
Noise. Loud. Wrong. Approaching.
"What the hell?" Tuesday frowned.
The commotion swelled, voices clashing, footsteps stomping with unearned confidence—until one painfully familiar voice cut through the air.
"Aw, fuck," Cole muttered, already rubbing his temples.
And then the storm arrived.
Uninvited. Unnecessary. Unhinged.
"Yoo, bro!" Merth shouted. "Why didn't you fucking tell me you were in town?!"
The words came out in the most obnoxious Gen-Alpha cadence imaginable, like confidence with no substance and a TikTok addiction.
"Speak of the devil," Tuesday muttered, venomous, "and he slithers right in."
"Merth, why are you here?" Cole asked, eyes already tired. "And how the hell did you even know I was in New York?"
"Mom's friend saw you and your wife," Merth said, already making himself comfortable—plopping down in the empty seat beside Luca like he belonged there. "Told Mom. Mom told me."
Cole looked one second away from committing a felony.
"Oh," Merth continued, smirking, "look at that—faggot one and faggot two are here too."
He nodded toward Luca and Foca like he'd just delivered the cleverest line known to man.
Then he turned to Tuesday and Pearl, grin slick and predatory.
"Sup, ladies."
The way he said it made skin crawl. He clearly thought it was charming. Alpha, even.
"When you get tired of hanging around these losers, you know where to find me."
"Oooh, Laaawwwd," Tuesday said sweetly, already gripping her steak knife like it was destiny itself. "Please forgive me, 'cause I'm about to have blood on my hands tonight."
Murder hovered in the air—thick, tempting, deserved.
Thankfully, someone stepped in just in time.
"Pardon the intrusion," a familiar voice cut in smoothly, dripping with poise. "I'm the manager here, and I've been informed that someone is making a ruckus at this very fine establishment."
Everyone turned.
And there she was.
Hyouka.
Fully committed to the bit—spine straight, chin lifted, drowning in a Bridgerton-worthy accent like she'd been born managing scandals over candlelight and wine. She gave the table the tiniest, most conspiratorial wink before fixing her gaze squarely on Merth.
"Sir," she said pleasantly, deadly calm, "I'm afraid you'll have to leave the premises. You're disturbing the diners."
The smile stayed.
The tone did not play.
"The fuck?" Merth snapped. "Can't you see I'm a customer here?"
"Well," Hyouka replied sweetly, "the moment you started behaving like a nutjob, your status as a customer was revoked."
She clasped her hands together, thoughtful.
"We don't discriminate against people with mental illness—as long as it's kept contained and doesn't disturb our other valued guests. Unfortunately, that courtesy does not extend to you." Her smile sharpened. "Now, if you would be so kind, please leave the premises."
Merth froze.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
Like a fish buffering.
The table stared in awe. Shutting Merth up was, frankly, a medical anomaly.
"Sir?" Hyouka waved a hand slowly in front of his face. "Did you not hear me?" She sighed, disappointed. "Ugh… even a goldfish has better comprehension than this guy," she muttered—not quietly.
Merth's face flushed red, embarrassment and rage wrestling for dominance. His breathing turned heavy, sharp, feral.
"Oh, can you believe this?" Hyouka turned to a nearby waiter, who had been frozen in place like a deer in headlights. "This ho is trying to do breathing exercises now?" She gasped theatrically. "The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch!"
"Is this how you treat your customers?!" Merth barked, shooting to his feet. "I'll burn this place to the ground! Don't you know I'm live right now?!" He jabbed a finger at the tiny camera clipped discreetly to his shirt. "Y'all are fucking cooked!"
"Oh."
Hyouka gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. "You're livestreaming?"
She turned smoothly to the camera.
"Hello, chat!" she said brightly. "As you can see, our establishment is highly reputable—excellent food, immaculate vibes." She gestured around casually. "So if you're ever in the area, feel free to stop by."
A wink.
Then she snapped her attention back to Merth, smile still perfectly intact.
"We sincerely thank you for the free advertising," she said coolly, "but you will still need to leave the premises, sir."
No mercy. No hesitation.
Merth's chat exploded.
"F's in the chat for Merth 😭"
"BRO GOT COOKED BY A WOMAN LMAOOO"
"Got scolded by Mommy, damn 💀"
"This is fucking hilarious"
"Skibidi sigma Merth??? Nahhhh 💀💀💀"
Even his own people turned on him—incels cannibalizing their own—each message digging the knife deeper.
Merth stood there, shaking with rage, humiliated on every possible front.
And somehow, impossibly—
It only got worse from there.
"You!" Merth jabbed a finger at Hyouka. "Do you even know who I am?"
He said it like a threat. Like a prophecy. Like the air itself should've trembled.
"As a matter of fact, sir," Hyouka replied smoothly, "I don't."
She smiled. "And I'm actually very happy for it to stay that way."
The table collectively choked. Coughing, wheezing, eyes watering—holding in laughter was no longer a choice, it was a losing battle.
"Call your supervisor. NOW," Merth barked.
And just like that, Hyouka felt the unmistakable sting of déjà vu.
"Sir," she said patiently, "didn't I already introduce myself? I'm the manager." She tilted her head, then turned to the waiter still lingering nearby for reasons known only to God. "Right?"
The waiter glanced toward the actual manager, who was hiding behind the bar like this was a nature documentary. The manager subtly flashed a thumbs-up.
The waiter nodded.
"Well," Merth sneered, "you'd better call someone higher than you before I start losing my shit. And trust me—you don't want that."
Hyouka closed her eyes briefly.
Aw, shit. Here we go again.
If I had two nickels for every time someone demanded my superior, I'd have two. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice.
"What are you standing there for?!" Merth snapped. "Pick up the phone and call whoever's above you!"
Hyouka sighed. Slowly. Deeply. Then she stepped forward and held out both hands, palms open.
"Then kindly take both of my hands," she said gently, "and I'll let you speak with my supervisor."
Merth didn't hesitate for a second.
In his mind, all he could think about was finally watching this female get demolished.
He grabbed her hands.
Mistake.
The moment his skin touched hers, Hyouka's fingers snapped shut—tight, unyielding, trapping him completely.
And then—
"Heavenly Father," Hyouka began, her voice suddenly reverent.
Foca, Luca, Tuesday, and even Pearl instinctively reached out, joining hands, eyes squeezed shut—trying desperately not to lose their shit laughing. A full-blown prayer circle formed around Merth before he even realized what was happening.
"—we come to You once again," Hyouka continued solemnly, "as this child before me is seeking someone higher than myself. And no one in this world is higher than You, Father."
Merth stood frozen. Captured. Confused. Absolutely doomed.
"So we pray that You guide him accordingly," she said sweetly, tightening her grip just a bit, "and take him as well."
She bowed her head.
"In Jesus' name, Amen."
"Amen…"
The word echoed—Foca, Luca, Tuesday, Pearl, the diners who'd been spectating like it was dinner theater, the waiter, and even the manager still hiding behind the bar all chimed in.
Hyouka smiled serenely at the once-again stunned Merth.
"Now that you've met my higher-up," she said sweetly, "you may kindly leave the premises."
She turned to the camera one last time.
"Bye, chat." She waved.
That—
That snapped something in him.
It happened fast. Too fast. And somehow, in slow motion.
A sharp crack split the air.
Hyouka staggered back, clutching her cheek. The pain burned—hot, humiliating, vicious. Tears threatened, stinging at her eyes, but she swallowed them down. She refused to give him that satisfaction.
Slowly, she turned back, eyes blazing.
"You hit like a bitch," she spat.
That did it.
Merth swung again—
—but Cole caught his arm mid-air.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Cole roared, rage ripping straight out of his chest.
"I could ask you the same!" Merth screamed back. "What the fuck are you doing?! I'm your fucking brother and you're just letting these fuckers treat me like shit?! Fuck you!"
Pearl, Luca, and Tuesday shot to their feet, fury already loaded and ready—
"H-hello?"
The voice stopped everyone cold.
It came from Foca's phone, sitting on the table. Speaker on.
Silence fell like a dropped plate.
Merth went pale.
It was his father's voice—but not the usual thunderous one. This one was small. Tight. Afraid.
"You'd better call your son," Foca said calmly, ice-cold. "Immediately. If you don't want to lose everything."
"…W-which one?" the man asked shakily.
"You only have one son left," Foca replied. "Remember? After you threw out the one who actually had brains and common sense."
Pearl smirked, pride lighting her up. Yeah, her look said. That's my brother.
Cole might share blood with the man on the phone—but that was it. Nothing more than a sperm donor.
Not to him. Not to his mother. Not anymore.
That was why he abandoned that surname without a second thought, taking Pearl's when they married. Family was earned.
"I want you to contain your foolish son," Foca continued evenly. "If I ever see him in public again, make no mistake—you lose everything."
It wasn't a threat.
"R-right away!" the man blurted before the line cut dead.
A heavy beat passed.
Then Merth's phone exploded with ringing.
His livestream had already been nuked the moment he hit Hyouka—permanently banned for his actions.
"Dad, what the f—" Merth froze mid-sentence. The color drained from his face.
"W-wait! Dad!"
He bolted for the exit, panic chasing him out the door.
Silence followed. Thick. Heavy.
"Whew," Hyouka finally said, lifting both hands—now very visibly fitted with brass knuckles. "Thank God he left. I was this close to making the evening news."
"Where the hell did those come from?" Luca asked.
"Oh, I keep them in my purse," Hyouka shrugged. "For emergencies. You know."
Foca stepped closer, gently inspecting her cheek. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, very much so!" she said brightly. "I'll wear this battle scar proudly—for you. Honestly, with your concern alone, I already feel better."
Then, without shame: "But if you step on me and make me bark, I'll be brand new."
"…Let's not do that," Foca said, mildly startled—though clearly amused. He turned to the still-shell-shocked waiter. "Could we get a bag of frozen peas?"
"R-right away, sir!" The waiter practically teleported out of existence.
"Welp," Hyouka sighed. "At least I tried."
"That you did, boo," Tuesday laughed.
"Argh, now I want her even more," Pearl groaned, eyeing Hyouka like a premium cut of Wagyu.
"Let's get you seated," Foca said, guiding Hyouka between him and Tuesday. "Preferably far away from my sister."
"I'm sorry," Cole said quietly. "I didn't expect him to show up."
"You're not at fault," Foca replied gently. "None of us expected that."
Cole turned to Hyouka. "And I'm sorry he hit you."
"I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt like a bitch," she admitted. "But it's all good. Not your fault." She tilted her head. "What I don't get is how you're related to that."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"How did you even know they were related?" Luca asked.
"Context clues," Hyouka said casually. "And I stumbled across it during my research."
"…Are you sure you're not CIA?" Luca asked.
"Ain't nobody got time for that," she scoffed. "I'd rather be Sir Foca's personal assistant for life."
Foca glanced at Pearl with a smug little smirk. See? My personal assistant.
Pearl raised a brow, smirking back.
Fine. I'll allow it… for now.