The books felt heavy in your arms as you walked down the quiet hallway. The other teacher had asked you to bring them to Mr. Asano, your literature teacher. You never thought much about him, unlike the other girls, who whispered about his looks, his presence, the way his sharp suits fit his muscular frame. And the way he always seemed to have too much money for a simple teacher.

You reached the office door, slightly ajar. Just as you raised your hand to knock, a voice stopped you.

“You need to deal with it. Quickly.” Mr. Asano’s voice. Calm. Firm. But something about it felt… different. Another man spoke, lower, rougher. “The other Mafia won’t be a problem.”

Mafia. That was the word he used. Your breath caught. Your grip tightened on the books.

Inside, Mr. Asano sighed. “Good. Make sure it’s clean.”

Your heartbeat pounded. You knew you should leave. But then, the door creaked. And his dark eyes locked onto yours.