Paradise Liquid

The living room glowed faintly under a single overhead light, its walls lined with simple paintings—abstract swirls and stark lines that caught the eye without trying too hard. A large sofa dominated the space, modern and sleek, its gray fabric stitched with care, piled high with soft cushions. A man perched on it, his posture stiff, his neatly trimmed mustache framing a tight mouth. His polished hair gleamed, but sweat beaded on his brow as he stared across the room.

Three men faced him. Two stood behind the sofa, tall and broad, their black suits tailored so sharp they seemed carved from shadow. The fabric clung to their shoulders and chests, a dull sheen rippling as they shifted. The third man sat opposite, bald and commanding, his presence heavy like a storm cloud. His eyes—hazel and unblinking—locked onto the ten beer bottles lined up on the table between them, their glass catching the light in a neat row.

The bald man waved a hand, slow and deliberate. His gaze snapped to the nervous man. "Herman," he said, voice deep and laced with a strange weight that hummed in the air, "if I find anything wrong with this, you're dead."

Herman—Ruby's father—swallowed hard, his hands rubbing together, slick with sweat. "L-Lord Mu… h-how could there be anything wrong? There's n-nothing wrong with the Paradise Liquid." His stammer cracked the silence, his eyes darting to the bottles he'd delivered today—ten of them, disguised as beer, meant for Lord Mu.

Lord Mu said nothing, his face a stone mask. One of the suited men stepped forward, plucked a bottle from the lineup, and popped the cap. His eyes flared with a faint glow as he peered inside. His jaw tightened. "Lord Mu," he said, voice flat, "there's orange juice mixed in. It's ruined the Paradise Liquid."

"What?!" Herman shot to his feet, face draining of color. "No, that can't—" He froze mid-sentence, eyes bulging. His breath cut off, a choked gasp escaping as he crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Lord Mu stared at the body, his glowing hazel eyes dimming back to normal, emotionless. "Check the rest," he said. "Calculate the cost."

"Yes, Lord," the suited man replied. He opened each bottle, scanning them with that eerie glow. Two seconds later: "All contaminated. 100,000 credits."

Lord Mu nodded. "Leave that amount here. Take the bottles. We're done." He rose, towering briefly before striding out.

The second suited man waved a hand, and two slim suitcases materialized on the table—stacked with cash. Another wave, and the bottles vanished into thin air. The men followed their lord, leaving Herman sprawled in the quiet room.

---

Ryuki set the old rotary phone back on its cradle, "Mother said she can't come home today," he announced, keeping his tone even.

Saki spun around, hands on her hips. "Why didn't you let me talk to her?"

"She was rushed," Ryuki said, shrugging. "Said she's swamped with work and hung up before I could pass it to you."

Saki's hands dropped, her brow creasing. "Does she… have a lot of work?"

"Yeah," Ryuki nodded. "She won't be back till tomorrow evening."

"Can't we go help her?" Saki pressed, stepping closer.

"No," Ryuki said, sharper than he meant. He softened his voice. "Be a good girl, okay? Let me cook." He turned to the kitchen, pulling out a pot to make vegetable soup and rice.

Saki trailed him, tugging his shirt. "Brother… she's really not coming back tonight?" Her voice wavered, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Ryuki's chest tightened. He'd only lied about she was busy in the work—thank god. If he'd said mother was in the hospital, Saki would have bolted there in a heartbeat. He pulled her into a hug, her face pressing into his shirt. "Don't worry," he murmured, patting her back. "She'll be home tomorrow."

She sniffled, nodding against him. He let go, unsure how to keep her from the truth. Should he keep it secret? How long could he?

He focused his ability, How do I hide my adoptive mother's state from Saki?

Go to Michiko, tell her everything, and stay at her house until your mother recovers. Pay the hospital in the morning. By afternoon, she'll be stable enough to talk. Have her tell Saki on the phone: "I'm fine, but I'm going to another city for work. Stay with Asuka's family for a while.

Ryuki exhaled. Lie or truth? This plan sounded solid—cleaner than confessing now. He'd stick to it.

"Dinner's almost ready," he called, stirring the soup. Ruby sat quietly at the table, watching him and Saki with big, curious eyes. He dished out bowls of steaming rice and soup, the three of them eating in a fragile calm.