DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A SHIT?!

[EARLIER]

After Eldric and Diaval handed Taren the 2000 gold coins, they climbed back into their black and gold carriage.

Diaval, impatient to see the land for his mother's bakery, urged Eldric to head there immediately.

The carriage set off, rolling through the streets of Claire City.

However, the journey did not go as smoothly as planned. Despite Eldric's directions, the carriage seemed to go in circles.

The streets blurred together in a confusing maze, and what should have been a straightforward trip became a frustrating loop.

The driver muttered apologies, and Diaval's impatience grew with each passing minute.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived at the supposed address.

But instead of the vacant land they expected, they found a house already built there.

A man noticed the carriage and walked out to greet them, wiping his hands on a rag. He had a sturdy build, with dark hair and an amiable expression.

"Good day, sirs. What brings you here?" the man asked, his tone respectful yet curious.

Eldric stepped forward, his voice measured. "We were told this land was available for purchase. We acquired it from a man named Taren."

The man's eyes widened slightly, and he shook his head.

"I'm afraid there's been a mistake. This land has been in my possession for years. My name is Gregory."

'A mistake?' Diaval thought.

Eldric exchanged a glance with Diaval, who was visibly fuming.

"Could we see proof of ownership?" Eldric asked politely.

Gregory nodded and gestured toward his house.

"Of course. Please, come in. My wife will prepare some tea."

The house was modest but well-kept, with a charming, homey atmosphere.

The walls were lined with framed photos and paintings, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air.

Gregory's wife, a warm and welcoming woman named Lila, greeted them with a smile. She had auburn hair tied back in a neat bun and wore a simple yet elegant dress.

"Welcome," Lila said, setting a tray of tea and biscuits on the table.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Gregory returned with a stack of papers, spreading them out on the dining table.

"Here are the documents," he said, pointing to a property deed and a detailed will.

"This shows that I purchased the land five years ago."

Eldric and Diaval examined the papers closely. The documents were thorough, with signatures, official seals, and detailed descriptions of the property. Gregory's name was clearly listed as the owner.

Diaval clenched his fists under the table, struggling to contain his anger.

"This can't be right. We were shown drawings that looked legitimate."

Eldric, maintaining his calm demeanor, glanced at Diaval.

"These things do happen, unfortunately. We were deceived."

Gregory looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry you were misled. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."

Diaval felt a mix of frustration and embarrassment. He had been so eager to secure the perfect land for his mother's bakery, and now they were back to square one, out 2000 gold coins.

As they sipped their tea, Gregory tried to lighten the mood with a few anecdotes about the neighborhood and his family.

Despite his efforts, Diaval's mind raced with thoughts of Taren's deceit and the wasted money. He had observed Taren and knew something was off, but he had gone along with it anyway.

'I'm such an idiot...'

Eldric, sensing Diaval's turmoil, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find another way, Diaval. This is just a minor setback."

'Find another way?'

Diaval thought, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. He couldn't let this go.

Taren's betrayal stung deeply, especially since it involved his mother.

He vowed to himself that he would get the money back and find the perfect land for her bakery, no matter what it took.

***

Taren stood frozen, staring at the blazing inferno that had consumed his home.

The alcohol-induced haze that had clouded his mind evaporated instantly, replaced by a surge of terror.

His heart pounded as he bolted towards the front door, slamming it open with his shoulder. Flames roared higher, and thick smoke filled the air, making it hard to see or breathe.

"Anna! Betty!" he shouted desperately, his voice cracking.

He stumbled through the smoke-filled house, his eyes burning, searching for any sign of his wife and daughter.

He reached their bedrooms, but both were empty, the furniture charred and unrecognizable.

Panic clawed at his chest as he moved towards the stairs, tears streaming down his face.

"Mr. Taren, I see you're finally home," a voice echoed through the crackling of the flames.

Taren stopped dead in his tracks.

Sitting at the dining table was a figure clad in an all-black suit, with a black mask that had two horns intertwined with his own, making it four in total.

The figure's calm demeanor was in stark contrast to the raging inferno around them. The man casually sat at the dining table, seemingly unbothered by the fire.

Taren's heart raced with a new kind of fear. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice trembling.

"Join me at the table," the masked figure said, ignoring Taren's question.

Confused and scared, Taren slowly approached the table, sitting down opposite the man.

The heat from the encroaching flames was intense, but the figure remained eerily calm. The man slid a cup of tea across the table towards Taren, who just stared at it, then back at the masked figure.

"Who are you?" Taren repeated, his voice shaking.

The figure was silent for a moment, then began to speak.

"How can you sleep with another woman despite having a wife and child?

You're a disgusting man who should have his dick cut off."

'Was Gloria his wife or maiden?'Taren thought.

Taren's eyes widened, and he began to sweat profusely—not from the heat, but from fear.

"I-I'm sorry for sleeping with your woman," he stammered, trying to apologize.

The figure waved a hand dismissively.

"I don't care about your whoring habits. What I care about is the land you sold earlier today. Or rather, the land you scammed from the Astarot family."

"Oh...I-I am..."

Before Taren could respond, the figure's anger erupted.

He flipped the table with a force that sent Taren sprawling backward, the table crashing to the floor and breaking apart. Taren landed hard, the chair beneath him shattering on impact.

"You worthless piece of shit," the figure spat, his voice seething with rage.

"You think you can scam the Astarot family and get away with it?

You think you can cheat people out of their money and face no consequences?"

Taren crawled backward, his mind racing, his body trembling.

"Please, I'll pay it back! I swear, I'll pay it back!" he begged, his voice breaking.

"You'll go to the Astarot House and return twice the amount you scammed—4000 gold coins," the figure commanded.

"And you'll beg for their forgiveness. Failure to do so will lead to consequences far worse than your home burning down."

'4000?!' Taren thought, shocked at the absurd amount.

Taren paused, his mind reeling.

"How am I supposed to get that kind of money?"

"Do I look like I give a shit?" the figure snarled.

"Go scam like you do and whore around."

Desperation and fear gripped Taren, but one thought dominated his mind.

"What about my wife and kid? Are they safe?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The figure's eyes blazed with fury.

"You still dare to ask about your wife and daughter after sleeping with a slut? Men like you should be stripped of their manhood."

With that, the figure moved closer, and with a brutal stomp, he crushed Taren's genitals.

Blood splattered, and Taren's scream of pain and agony echoed through the burning house.The searing pain was unbearable, his vision blurred with tears, his body writhing in agony.

The masked figure leaned down, his voice cold and merciless.

"I want the money—4000 gold coins—in two days. Fail to do so, and this will seem like mercy compared to what comes next."

With that, the masked figure turned and walked away, leaving Taren writhing on the floor, his screams of pain and sobs of despair filling the air.