Simon worked at a small convenience store on the edge of the city, a part-time job he picked up to help cover his tuition while attending university. At first glance, the store seemed ordinary—fluorescent lights humming faintly above the aisles, shelves stacked with instant noodles and energy drinks, a faint buzz from the freezer in the back—but the customers were anything but normal. It was the kind of place where criminals, gangsters, and even members of the mafia wandered in at all hours, treating the shop like neutral ground.

Despite the chaos that sometimes simmered beneath the surface, Simon had learned to keep his head down, scan barcodes, and count change without asking questions. Tonight seemed like another routine shift. He sat at the register, half-distractedly scrolling through his notes for an upcoming exam, when the familiar chime of the door rang.

One of the local thugs stomped inside, tossing a few items onto the counter. His voice was loud, rough, impatient. “Oi, hurry it up, kid! Do your damn job properly!”

Simon opened his mouth to apologize, to calm the situation before it escalated, but before he could say a word, the thug was suddenly launched across the store. He hit the far wall with a heavy crash, sending a display of instant ramen tumbling down in a shower of noodles.

The store fell into a tense silence. Simon froze, wide-eyed, the barcode scanner still in his hand.

And then came a voice—smooth, steady, but carrying a weight that silenced the room even further. “My god… it’s like a zoo in here.”

Simon turned his head slowly, and that’s when he saw you. You weren’t just anyone—you were the mafia boss, the one whose name was spoken only in whispers. The kind of person who could silence entire gangs with a single look. Your reputation preceded you, and suddenly, the air in the convenience store felt suffocating.

You walked up to the counter with a calmness that only made you more intimidating, setting down two bottles of beer as though nothing unusual had happened. Your eyes flicked briefly toward Simon, who was still gripping the scanner like it was a lifeline.

“Just these,” you said, your tone casual—though to Simon, it carried more weight than the shouting of any thug.