The Other Side of the Family
The parking lot was dim, the only light spilling from a flickering lamp at the far end. Hope's big brother, Riku Gojima, ducked into his black sedan, the kind of car that hummed low and heavy even at idle. He loosened his collar, cracked his knuckles against the steering wheel, and exhaled a long breath. For a moment, he allowed the soft smile he wore when playing cards with Hope and Naoki to linger.
His phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID.
"...Father."
He swiped to answer, voice low and respectful.
"Good evening, sir."
A deep, gravelly voice came through. "How is she?"
Riku's shoulders eased, his tone brightening.
"She's good. She's laughing again. Can you believe that? Playing cards, even teasing me like old times. The boy—Naoki—he's been keeping her company. Honestly, Father... it's been a while since I saw her smile like that."
For a fleeting second, Riku's tough exterior cracked into pure relief.
But then the voice on the other line sharpened.
"And the task?"
Riku's smile vanished. His jaw tensed, his grip on the wheel firm.
"...Almost done. Me and the boys are on it."
Silence. Then the father's approving grunt.
"Good. Don't disappoint me."
The line went dead.
Riku pocketed the phone, started the engine, and drove. The city blurred past—neon lights, restless pedestrians, the pulse of nightlife—but he was heading elsewhere. He turned into a narrow alley, tires crunching over gravel, until he stopped in front of a rusted steel door marked only by faint graffiti.
The door creaked open. Men with tattoos up their arms and cold eyes greeted him. Riku shrugged off his coat, tossing it to one of them. The man caught it with a nod.
Inside, the warehouse was dark except for a single swinging bulb. Riku walked with heavy steps, his presence enough to silence the low chatter around him. He reached a metal chair at the center of the room and sat down, elbows resting casually on his knees.
"Turn on the lights."
With a click, harsh white flooded the center of the warehouse.
A man was tied to a chair, ropes cutting into his wrists, a dirty towel stuffed into his mouth. His eyes were wide, trembling like a rabbit caught in a wolf's den.
Riku leaned forward, expression calm yet cold.
"So... do you have a name to give us?"
The man mumbled frantically against the gag.
Riku tilted his head. "Oh, right. You can't talk like that."
He stood, leaned over, and yanked the gag free. The man coughed and gasped for air, lips trembling.
"P-Please... please let me go. I have a family. A daughter—she's waiting for me. Please... I'll disappear, you'll never hear from me again."
Riku chuckled softly. Not warm. Not kind.
"Shh..." He crouched down, his sharp eyes locking onto the man's. "Just give me names. And I'll let you go. You'll see your... imaginary family."
The man froze, color draining from his face.
Riku's smirk widened. "Yep. I knew it all along. We've done our background check. No daughter. No family. You live alone in a cheap apartment. Pathetic." He tapped the man's cheek lightly, mockingly. "So drop the act."
The man's breathing grew ragged. His knees bounced violently against the floor.
Riku's voice dropped to a low growl.
"If you don't want to be fish food tonight... talk. Talk. Talk."
The trembling rival swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his face. His lips parted—
And finally, he began to speak.
The warehouse filled with silence, broken only by the sound of his voice giving up secrets.
Riku leaned back in his chair, satisfied.
The Gojima family's shadow business was still very much alive.