"Kaguya-sama," Hayasaka murmured, her voice shaking ever so slightly, revealing the fear tightening in her chest. "We have to go. Now."
Kaguya kept her gaze fixed on her cup, her tone steady despite the whiteness of her knuckles. "What's up, Hayasaka? Did Shirogane say something to you?"
"No, Kaguya-sama," Hayasaka whispered, her gaze flicking to the locked front door before shifting to Jun, who was casually brushing a brown butter glaze over a warm sponge cake.
"It's Oko-sama."
Kaguya's head jerked up, her crimson eyes sparking with sudden alarm. "Oko? What's he after?"
Hayasaka took a deep breath, feeling the heavy burden of the Shinomiya name pressing firmly against her chest.
"He's sent the retrieval team," Hayasaka murmured, her voice barely rising above the soft hum of the refrigerators.
"They're not here to ask—they're here to take you back to the main estate for the Kujō engagement talks. And… they'll be here in less than an hour."
Hayasaka's gaze locked with Kaguya's, raw fear gleaming in her eyes.
"They'll be here in five minutes."
The café's ambient sounds—the gentle tick of the wall clock, the steady hum of the refrigerators, the quiet rustle of Ririka folding napkins at the counter—suddenly seemed overwhelmingly loud.
Hayasaka quickly snatched Kaguya's coat from the back of the booth, her hands shaking as she held it out.
"We need to take the back exit. If they catch me, head straight to the Kyoto branch and find Unyo-sama. I'll hold them off."
Kaguya glanced at the coat, then at the cozy café. Her eyes shifted to Ririka, frozen in place, her sky-blue eyes wide with fear.
Finally, she looked at Nouno, the grumpy Persian cat, who had sensed the change in the air and was now scrambling beneath the heavy oak espresso machine.
Kaguya placed her ceramic cup on the table, the soft clink breaking the silence. "No, Hayasaka," she said, her voice stripped of the usual melodic grace of the Shinomiya heiress.
It was cold, steady, and unshakable. "I'm done running. If they want me, they can walk right through the front door."
The heavy wooden kitchen door swung open, and Jun Izanami stepped out.
He moved with an absolute, chilling silence, the floorboards failing to utter a single creak beneath him.
The easygoing chef who had been humming an off-key city-pop tune moments earlier had vanished.
In his place stood a predator—posture loose, but every bit of his attention sharp and locked in.
He strode right up to Kaguya and Hayasaka, his large, warm hands resting firmly on their shoulders.
The steady grip grounded them both, pulling their focus to the here and now.
He met their eyes, his dark gaze calm, steady, and completely free of fear.
"Don't worry," Jun murmured, his voice a calm, steady rumble. "I've got you."
He let go of their shoulders, turned, and strolled back to the counter. He didn't reach for a weapon, just grabbed a heavy, solid oak rolling pin, holding it loosely against his thigh.
Half a minute later.
The ear-splitting roar of three black SUVs shattered the calm of the quiet gravel lot, their aggression unmistakable.
The crisp autumn air quickly filled with the harsh stench of burning rubber and exhaust, smothering the warm aroma of roasted coffee.
The vehicle doors swung open together, and heavy, synchronized footsteps thudded across the wooden deck outside.
Kurosu, the head of security for Oko Shinomiya, came into view through the wide glass windows.
He was built like a mountain, his broad shoulders pressing against the seams of a perfectly tailored dark suit.
A coiled earpiece rested in his right ear, and his eyes were cold, lifeless, and completely lacking in empathy.
He was surrounded by four towering ex-military brutes, their hands resting casually near their jackets.
Kurosu lifted a hand and rapped twice on the glass, the sound sharp and insistent. Jun strolled to the door, unlocked it, and eased it open just a sliver.
"Kaguya-sama," Kurosu said in a gravelly monotone that left no room for debate. Without glancing at Jun, he continued, "Your brother Oko asks that you return to the estate at once. The Kujō family is waiting. Come quietly, or we'll have to escort you."
"Can't you see we're closed?" Jun said casually, unfazed by the four armed men on his property. "And you're tracking mud onto my deck. Turn around and leave."
Kurosu's lifeless gaze finally shifted to Jun, a faint, condescending smirk curling at the corner of his lips. He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers.
The thug on the far right stepped up, pulled his leg back, and slammed a heavy steel-toed boot into the reinforced glass door.
The destruction played out in grim clarity.
The tempered glass cracked instantly, a web of fractures spreading from the impact point.
Then, with a thunderous crash, it burst inward, scattering countless razor-sharp shards across the polished hardwood.
The wooden door frame splintered and creaked under the overwhelming force.
The cold autumn wind swept into the cozy café, snuffing out the warmth in an instant. The force of the kicked door rattled the counter, and a small wooden pedestal near the edge toppled over.
Sitting on it was Jun's grandfather's old, hand-cranked wooden coffee grinder. It was the last piece he had ever carved himself, a cherished relic from a simpler time, kept polished and protected for more than twenty years.
It hit the hardwood floor with a sickening crack, the antique wood splintering into dozens of jagged, irreparable pieces that echoed through the room.
The brass crank was bent, and the wooden housing lay in splinters.
"..." Jun stared at the damage.
The hum of the refrigerators faded. The ticking clock fell silent.
The room's temperature plunged, the air turning heavy and stifling. Under everyone's gaze, Jun's eyes went blank and dull as his third personality suddenly emerged.
°°°°°°
Wasting no time, Kurosu yanked a high-voltage stun baton from his belt. Blue arcs of electricity crackled along its length, throwing sharp shadows across his face.
He strode through the splintered doorway, lifted the baton, and swung for Jun's neck, intent on dropping the chef in one hit.
This prompted Jun, who had been standing perfectly still like a statue, to step forward—not to dodge, but to move closer into the swing's arc.
The baton struck the side of his neck with a sharp, sickening crack of electricity. Blue arcs flickered wildly across his skin, casting the room in sudden, harsh bursts of light.
This didn't make Jun flinch as his Absolute Learn skill kicked in within a microsecond.
It analyzed the voltage, adjusted his bioelectric resistance, and increased his muscle density to endure the shock.
The electricity fizzled harmlessly against his skin, leaving only a faint, smoking scorch mark on the collar of his dark gray sweater.
"..." Jun slowly turned his head toward Kurosu, his eyes pitch black and filled with purpose.
The first thug lunged in, swinging a heavy right hook straight toward Jun's jaw.
Jun's hand shot forward in a flash, clamping onto the thug's face, fingers pressing hard into his cheeks. The sharp crunch of breaking nasal cartilage filled the cramped room.
With a single arm, Jun hoisted the 220-pound man clean off the floor, twisted his hips, and drove him straight through the solid oak dining table.
The wood burst apart in jagged shards, and the thug crumpled to the floor, out cold before he even landed.
The second thug let out a roar, yanking a solid steel pipe from under his jacket. He swung it in a wide, vicious arc aimed straight at Jun's head.
Jun caught the pipe mid-swing, the force of the impact cracking the floorboards beneath his feet, yet he stood firm.
With a tight squeeze of his hands, the steel groaned in protest before snapping cleanly in two with a sharp, metallic ping.
Before the thug could even register what had just happened, Jun rammed the blunt, jagged end of the broken pipe into his solar plexus.
The sharp crack of ribs rang out like far-off gunfire, and the man hunched over, gasping for air as he collapsed to his knees.
The third and fourth thugs charged at him together, pulling out hefty tactical batons.
Jun crouched low, sweeping the third thug's legs out from under him with a fierce kick.
The impact cracked the man's kneecap with a sickening pop.
As the man collapsed, screaming, Jun grabbed the fourth thug by his suit collar and belt, lifted the hefty 250-pounder into the air, spun to build momentum, and hurled him clear across the room.
The thug smashed through the hallway drywall, leaving behind a massive, dusty, man-shaped hole.
Plaster rained down from the ceiling as a support beam groaned and splintered under the pressure.
A piece of broken steel pipe flew off and grazed the side of the commercial espresso machine, leaving a dent in the stainless steel with a sharp clang.
It was a complete, unapologetic, and visceral massacre, leaving only Kurosu still standing.
The head of security shook, eyes wide with primal fear, as he stared at his elite squad sprawled and defeated, and the calm, electricity-scarred chef standing unruffled in the middle of the wrecked room.
Kurosu's hand drifted to his waist, smoothly drawing a compact 9mm sidearm in one urgent motion. But Jun's hand moved so fast, it was a blur to the eye.
He closed the gap in one swift step, his fingers clamping onto Kurosu's wrist before twisting it back with cold, calculated precision.
There was a loud pop, followed by a wet, sickening crunch of cartilage tearing that drew a scream from Kurosu.
The gun slid from his numb fingers, clattering onto the hardwood and skidding through the shards of broken glass.
Jun hasn't thrown him yet like he usually does.
Jun's lifeless black eyes followed the weapon. Moving with an unsettling ease, he bent down and grasped the cold steel handgun.
With a flick of his thumb, he racked the slide, loading a round with a crisp metallic clack that rang through the shattered café.
He moved slowly toward the shattered doorway. Kurosu knelt on the floor, clutching his dislocated wrist, his face pale and glistening with cold sweat. He glanced up, his breath catching in his throat.
Jun halted just a foot away, lifted his right arm, and leveled the weapon, its dark, empty barrel aimed squarely at the middle of Kurosu's forehead.
The air pressure in the doorway suddenly dropped, and the temperature fell so fast that Kurosu's breath turned into thick white clouds in the icy air.
Jun's shadow loomed over the head of security, unnaturally dark and heavy, swallowing up the glow of the streetlamps outside.
Jun's face showed no trace of empathy, his expression blank and his eyes like bottomless black voids.
The heavy, predatory force of his presence bore down on Kurosu, locking his body in place.
Kurosu's pupils expanded until his eyes were nearly all black, his instincts screaming that he was facing an apex predator—and that his fate was already sealed.
"Do you know how much pressure it takes to crush a human skull?" Jun's voice was a hollow, vibrating rasp, stripped of all warmth and cadence. It sounded like grinding stones.
About a thousand newtons—the brain liquefies, and bone fragments scatter into the frontal lobe.
Jun's finger lingered gently on the trigger guard as he tilted his head ever so slightly.
"I wonder," Jun murmured, his voice slicing through the howling wind. "How many newtons would it take to crush this?"
Kurosu's lips quivered. He couldn't speak, couldn't even blink. He just stared down the barrel, bracing for the flash, for the end.
Jun lifted his left hand, his fingers wrapping around the cold steel frame of the handgun in his right.
The tendons in Jun's forearm tightened, flexing like thick steel cables under his skin. With his Absolute Learn skill, he instantly pinpointed the structural weak spots, the hairline fractures, and the molecular makeup of the forged steel alloy.
He squeezed it, making the metal shriek.
A sharp, high-pitched screech of strained metal cut through the wind. The handgun's solid steel frame warped inward, its slide splitting clean down the center with a sharp ping.
Sparks burst from the firing pin as the springs gave way under the unbelievable, crushing strength of Jun's grip.
The barrel twisted into a sharp ninety-degree bend, the trigger guard snapped clean off, and the grip panels crumbled into a fine plastic dust.
Jun kept the pressure steady for three more seconds, making sure the inner workings were thoroughly destroyed before easing his grip.
He opened his fingers, letting a mangled, twisted lump of scrap metal drop onto the wooden deck with a clatter. It was unrecognizable, as if it had been flattened by a freight train.
The cold air carried the acrid scent of burnt gun oil and scorched steel.
Kurosu stared at the crushed lump of metal, his mind completely fracturing. The man hadn't just disarmed him. He had crushed a solid steel firearm into scrap with his bare hands.
Jun stepped up, seized Kurosu by the lapels of his once-expensive, now-ruined suit, and hoisted the big man off his feet like he was weightless.
He strode to the jagged doorway and tossed him out into the chilly night air.
Kurosu tumbled down the wooden deck steps, rolling hard onto the gravel, wheezing for breath, clutching his dislocated wrist, eyes wide with sheer, soul-shaking terror as he glanced back at the café.
Jun stood framed in the splintered doorway, the cold wind tugging at his apron as he stared down at the crumpled figure.
"Let Oko Shinomiya know his dogs are too loud," Jun said, his voice dropping back to a low, rumbling monotone. "If he sends any more, I'll start burying them in the herb garden."
°°°°°
The black SUVs peeled out of the gravel lot in a panic, tires spinning and kicking up dirt as they fled into the night.
Jun bent down, picked up a sturdy piece of the remaining wooden door frame, and jammed it into the shattered doorway to keep out the wind. His third personality disappeared in an instant.
Jun rolled his shoulders, flinching as the adrenaline drained away. The fight's toll was setting in, a steady ache spreading through his muscles.
He returned to the counter, dropped to his knees on the hardwood floor, and, unfazed by the scattered glass, started gathering the broken fragments of his grandfather's wooden coffee grinder.
His chest tightened as the splintered wood rested heavily in his hands, the last tangible reminder of the man who had taught him everything he knew.
His grandfather's voice echoed in his mind, warm, gravelly, and filled with quiet wisdom.
"No matter what happens to this place, Jun, it's yours now. The wood will break, the glass will shatter. But it's your duty to make your own memories in these ruins."
Remembering those words, Jun closed his eyes, took a deep, steadying breath, and gently placed the broken pieces into a small wooden box on the counter.
He stood up, not with sadness, but with resolve. The old era of Café Sazanami had come to an end. He turned to face the room.
Kaguya stepped forward, her eyes drifting from the scattered glass to the busted grinder. A flicker of fierce, protective guilt darkened her crimson gaze—she knew she was the reason this danger had found its way to his door.
"My brother messed it up," Kaguya said, her voice losing its usual melodic charm and turning cold and firm. "So I'll take care of it. The Shinomiya real estate division will grab the three lakeside lots next to each other by midnight. I'll push the zoning permits through."
Erina moved up beside her, magenta eyes shining with the same fierce determination. She wasn't just visiting; this place was her sanctuary as well.
"The Nakiri Group's construction arm will take care of the rebuild," Erina said, pulling out her phone. "We're not just restoring it, Izanami. We're expanding it—and making it impenetrable."
"You two..." Jun glanced at them. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving just a 20-year-old guy standing before the two most powerful heiresses in Japan.
They weren't flinching or telling him to get out. Instead, they were using their influence to piece his broken home back together—because, to them, it was their home as well.
Without thinking, guided by pure instinct, Jun stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around Kaguya and Erina, pulling them into a tight, unconscious embrace.
Resting his chin near their shoulders, he buried his face for a brief moment and softly whispered, "Thank you, you two. I'll be back soon."
Kaguya's breath hitched, a warm blush spreading across her cheeks as she felt the steady, soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. Slowly, her slightly trembling hands lifted to clutch the back of his shirt.
Erina stiffened, closing her eyes as she released a shaky breath, then, like Kaguya, she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her forehead on his shoulder.
Jun stepped back, giving them a warm, sincere smile. Turning to the rest of the room, his demeanor shifted into that of the active leader again. "Ririka," he said, "did you call Kirari?" Ririka shook her head, hesitated, then reached into her pocket and took out her phone.
"I didn't have to ask," Ririka said, her voice calm, confidence flowing from her. "I called her the moment they kicked the door in. She's already keeping an eye on the security feed."
In the lavish, dimly lit dorm of Hyakkaou Private Academy, Yumeko Jabami's phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen with her deep burgundy eyes—it was a message from Ririka, accompanied by a photo of a wrecked café, shattered glass, and a close-up of Jun's collar marked with a faint scorch from a high-voltage stun baton.
Yumeko's eyes flared a fiery red as she pressed her hands to her cheeks, a wild grin spreading.
"He fought them off?" she whispered, voice shaking with exhilaration.
"Oh, Mary-san, look! The game just got so much more exciting!" Across campus, Mary Saotome's phone lit up with the same message.
Her golden eyes narrowed dangerously as she spotted the Shinomiya security detail in the background.
"That idiot Oko," she muttered, grabbing her coat and slamming the door. "He has no idea what he's just stirred up."
Back at Café Sazanami,
Jun stepped behind the counter and reached up to flip the sign in the window to CLOSED.
He pulled a sturdy canvas duffel bag from the back room and tossed in a few changes of clothes, his toiletries, and his prized set of Japanese kitchen knives.
He looked at the girls. "Hayasaka, Hisako, stay at the Garden House and keep them safe. Don't let anyone from the Shinomiya or Nakiri factions near them unless I say so."
Hayasaka gave a deep bow. "Got it, Izanami-san."
Jun tossed the duffel bag over his shoulder and glanced at his phone one last time. Kirari's message still lingered on the screen.
Grab your things, Jun-kun. We're heading to Hyakkaou.
Jun slid the phone into his pocket, stepped over the broken glass, squeezed past the jammed wooden doorframe, and headed out into the chilly, dark night.
The comfort zone had vanished. It was time to face the battle.