The evening after their Murder Bakery deep clean, Max woke up with the worst back pain of her life. She groaned dramatically, rolling onto her side, only to regret it immediately as pain shot up her spine. "Oh my God. Caroline."

From across the room, Caroline, who was happily sipping coffee and reading something on her phone, barely looked up. "Hmm?"

Max stretched, wincing. "I think I died. I'm dead. My ghost is talking to you right now."

Caroline smirked, flipping a page. "Then stop talking. You're annoying in both life and death."

Max grunted, trying to sit up. "No, seriously. My spine feels like it's been personally attacked by a gang of angry construction workers."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "It's because you have terrible posture."

Max scowled. "It's because my boobs are too big."

Caroline snorted into her coffee. "Excuse me?"

Max groaned, dramatically flopping onto her back again. "No, I'm serious. Do you know how heavy these things are? My entire center of gravity is off. My poor back has been carrying this burden for years."

Caroline bit back a laugh. "Max."

"I need insurance for these bad boys."

Caroline sighed, rubbing her temples. "Max, you are literally built like a cartoon character. Your boobs defy the laws of physics. I swear, if the world were fair, you'd be tipping over constantly."

Max nodded aggressively. "RIGHT?! It's not fair. Some people get normal-sized assets, and then there's me." She gestured dramatically to her chest. "Two certified watermelons strapped to my chest for life."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Oh my God."

Max flopped again, defeated. "Ugh. I bet you don't have this problem."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Max. I literally had a boob existential crisis last week."

Max snorted. "Oh yeah. The 'Rich Men Only Like Big Boobs' panic."

Caroline groaned, covering her face. "DON'T BRING IT UP."

Max grinned wickedly. "I should've recorded it. You grabbing your own boobs, dramatically comparing them to mine... Ha, priceless."

Caroline huffed. "Look, I was tired. And delirious."

Max smirked. "So what's the verdict? Have you accepted your tiny, peasant boobs?"

Caroline threw a pillow at her.

Max cackled.

Caroline sipped her coffee calmly. "You know, we could always trade. You take some of mine, and I'll take some of yours."

Max perked up. "Wait. Is boob redistribution surgery a thing?"

Caroline blinked. "I don't think so?"

Max squinted. "Science has failed us."

Caroline sighed. "Oh my God, Max. Go take a hot shower. You'll feel better."

Max groaned, slowly rolling off the couch like a sloth in distress. "If I don't come back, I've drowned."

Caroline waved her off. "I'll send flowers."

...

[Diner Shift]

Unfortunately, back pain didn't excuse them from work. Max and Caroline dragged themselves into the diner, exhausted but determined. And to make things worse, Earl called out a day since he was having some pain in his old bones, so he went to a Japanese massage parlor. Well, more work for the team.

Max, still grumbling, leaned against the counter, massaging her shoulders. "Han. Back me up here. Boobs are a scam."

Han, without looking up, sighed. "Oh boy. What did I just walk into?"

Caroline slid past him with the coffee pot. "Don't engage. She's having a crisis."

Max whipped around dramatically. "IT'S NOT A CRISIS. IT'S A MEDICAL ISSUE."

Oleg, poking his head out of the kitchen, immediately perked up. "Ah. We're talking about Max's boobs?"

Max threw a fork at him. "DON'T YOU EVEN START."

Oleg dodged expertly. "What? They are very nice."

Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oleg."

Max scowled. "Oleg, I swear to God."

Oleg smirked. "You should let me massage them. It will help the back pain."

Han slammed a cup down. "OLEG."

Oleg shrugged. "What? It's science. And I am good with my hands. Trust me."

Max, deadpan, turned to Caroline. "I'm going to jail."

Caroline sighed. "No, you're not."

Max picked up a butter knife. "Just one little stab."

Caroline grabbed her wrist. "Max. We talked about this."

Oleg grinned. "I love when she gets violent."

Max screamed.

Han groaned. "Everyone SHUT UP and GET TO WORK."

[Two Hours Later]

After dealing with drunk customers, greasy old men, and Oleg being Oleg, Max and Caroline finally collapsed into their usual booth, taking a much-needed break.

Max rubbed her temples. "We need to get rich. Fast."

Caroline, stirring her coffee, nodded. "Agreed."

Max groaned. "My boobs are too big, my back hurts, my job sucks, and Oleg exists. That's four whole reasons to change our lives."

Caroline sipped her coffee. "We have the bakery."

Max sighed. "I know. It's just... terrifying."

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Caroline tilted her head. "Why?"

Max hesitated.

She looked down at the coffee, swirling the spoon absently. "I guess... I've never really put everything into something before."

Caroline's expression softened.

Max sighed. "Like, what if we fail? What if we spend all this money, work our asses off, and it flops? Then what? We go back to cleaning Murder Bakery shelves and dodging Oleg's sexual harassment?"

Caroline was quiet for a moment.

Then she reached across the table and flicked Max's forehead.

Max yelped. "Ow! What the hell?!"

Caroline smirked. "We're not gonna fail."

Max rubbed her forehead. "Great pep talk, Coach."

Caroline leaned forward. "I'm serious, Max. Look, we have something good. People love our cupcakes. Alex freaking Wilson—Hollywood's biggest name—is investing in us. We just have to deliver."

Max exhaled. "I hate how logical you sound."

Caroline smirked. "It's a gift."

Max sighed, stretching. "Alright, fine. I'll stop being a pessimistic little gremlin."

Caroline grinned. "Progress."

Max smirked. "But I'm still getting a boob reduction if we get rich."

Caroline snorted. "Deal."

Max lifted her coffee cup. "To getting stupid rich."

Caroline clinked hers against it. "To making it."

...

After their diner shift from hell, Max and Caroline dragged themselves toward the subway station, exhaustion weighing them down like a pair of overworked mules. "Remind me again why we're taking the subway," Max groaned, adjusting the strap of her purse.

"Because," Caroline sighed, clearly as dead inside as Max, "we just spent thirteen grand on ovens. The rest we need to save for supplies and pay off our bills. And we are broke."

Max huffed. "I hate responsibility."

They trudged toward the platform, waiting in line with the usual mix of half-asleep commuters, grumpy old ladies, and the occasional person who smelled mysteriously like hot dogs despite not holding any food.

Max yawned, stretching. "At least we don't have to deal with any more bullshit today."

The universe, sensing this statement as a challenge, immediately proved her wrong.

[Ten Minutes Later – Aboard the Subway]

Max and Caroline managed to grab seats as the subway jerked forward, rattling them like dice in a cup.

Max slumped in her seat. "God, I could sleep right here."

Caroline, checking her phone, muttered, "Please don't. I'd like to avoid getting stabbed by a hobo today."

Max waved her off. "Pfft. What are the odds of something happening?"

Once again, the universe accepted the challenge.

A petite woman, well-dressed brunette in her mid-30s, casually brushed past them. Max didn't think much of it.

Until, thirty seconds later, the woman returned.

Holding Max's purse.

Max blinked.

Caroline blinked.

The pickpocket sighed dramatically, waving the purse in Max's face. "Here. Take it back."

Max frowned. "Uh. What?"

The woman plopped the purse onto Max's lap like she was handing back lost homework. "I stole this from you five minutes ago."

Max and Caroline stared.

The woman sighed. "But when I checked inside, I found... this."

She held up three cents, a discount coupon, an old makeup set, and a punch card for a coffee shop that had already expired.

Max winced. "Oh."

The pickpocket folded her arms, judging her hard. "Girl, are you seriously walking around New York with an empty purse?"

Max groaned, rubbing her temples. "Listen, lady, it's been a long day."

The pickpocket snorted. "Clearly."

Caroline, still processing, finally spoke. "So let me get this straight. You stole my best friend's purse... checked inside... saw it was basically a black hole of poverty... and decided to return it?"

The pickpocket nodded. "Pretty much."

Caroline choked back a laugh.

Max glared. "I don't know whether to be mad or deeply insulted."

The pickpocket patted her shoulder. "Honey, I've robbed a lot of people, but I've never felt pity before today."

Max groaned. "Great. This is my rock bottom."

The pickpocket took out a five-dollar bill and shoved it into Max's purse. "Here. Get yourself a sandwich or something."

Max gasped. "Are you PITY-DONATING TO ME RIGHT NOW?!"

Caroline completely lost it. She was wheezing, gripping the subway pole to keep from falling over. "Oh my God. Max. You just got reverse mugged."

The pickpocket grinned. "Consider it charity."

Max scowled. "Lady, I swear to God—"

The subway screeched to a stop, and the pickpocket casually hopped off before Max could finish her sentence.

As the doors slid shut, Max was still holding the five-dollar bill, seething.

Caroline, still laughing, patted her back. "Well, look on the bright side."

Max turned to her, glaring. "What bright side?"

Caroline gestured at the money. "At least now you can afford a bagel."

Max groaned, stuffing the bill into her tragic excuse for a wallet. "I hate everything."

....

[Let's go back to Earl and Han]

Han sat in the waiting area of The Lotus Blossom Spa, feeling deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

He wasn't sure how Earl had convinced him to do this.

Actually, no. He knew exactly how.

[The Diner- During noon] [Flashback]

Earl had been massaging his old-man knees and groaning dramatically. "Damn bones don't work like they used to."

Han, cleaning the counter, snorted. "Maybe because you're seventy."

Earl pointed a threatening spoon at him. "I'm sixty-five, you disrespectful little shit."

"Same thing."

Earl ignored him and leaned back. "Went to this Japanese massage parlor last week. Let me tell you, life-changing."

Han raised an eyebrow. "Life-changing?"

Earl nodded sagely. "They got these tiny ladies with hands like God's personal chiropractors. Fixed me right up. I felt twenty years younger."

Han rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh."

Earl smirked. "Bet it could fix that stick up your ass, too."

Han scowled. "I do not have a stick up my ass."

Earl cackled. "Then why are you always so uptight?"

Han opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned.

Earl slapped a voucher down on the counter. "I already booked you an appointment."

Han stared at it.

"…Why?"

Earl shrugged. "Because if I gotta deal with your grumpy ass every day, you might as well be relaxed while doing it."

Han sighed.

That was how he ended up here.

...

[Present – The Lotus Blossom Spa]

Han sat rigidly in the waiting room, flipping through a glossy brochure titled "The Art of Zen Relaxation."

His mind, however, was NOT RELAXED.

Because across the room stood her.

The most stunning woman he had ever seen.

She had sleek, dark hair tied into a loose bun, smooth skin, and a ridiculously attractive figure, even in the modest spa uniform.

Her name tag read "Yumi."

Han, for the first time in years, panicked.

[Han's Internal Monologue]

'Oh no.'

'She's hot.'

'Why is she so hot?'

'Do I look okay? Oh God, am I sweating?'

'Wait. This is a MASSAGE PARLOR. Does she think I'm some pervy old dude here for weird shit?'

'ABORT MISSION. ABORT. MISSION.'

Yumi approached, her soft, melodic voice cutting through his internal chaos.

"Mr. Han?"

Han choked on air.

She smiled politely. "Are you ready for your session?"

Han nodded too aggressively and immediately regretted it. "Y-Yeah. Sure. Totally. 100%. Let's do this."

Yumi's perfectly arched eyebrows lifted slightly, but she simply gestured for him to follow.

Han, mentally preparing for war, trailed behind her.

...

[Massage room]

Han sat on the massage table, fidgeting.

Yumi smiled, lighting a scented candle. "Just relax."

Han's brain: RELAX? HOW?!

He cleared his throat. "So, uh… you do this often?"

Yumi blinked. "Massage therapy? Yes. Every day."

Han internally cringed. Idiot. She LITERALLY WORKS HERE.

"Right, right," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "I just meant, like… y'know… a lot?"

Yumi tilted her head slightly. "Yes. That's what 'every day' means."

Han wanted to die.

But it got worse.

Because then she gently placed her hands on his shoulders.

And Han, involuntarily, made a noise.

A noise that was not human.

A mix between a dying animal and a man who had just seen God.

Yumi paused.

Han's soul left his body.

He cleared his throat so aggressively he almost gave himself an aneurysm. "I, uh… sorry. Didn't mean to—uh—do that."

Yumi smiled, amused. "Tense?"

Han forced a totally normal laugh. "Me? No. Pfft. I'm cool. So chill. Ice cold. Freezer-level chill."

Yumi giggled.

Han, internally: SHE GIGGLED. OH MY GOD.

She started massaging his back, her hands skilled and firm.

Han, meanwhile, was having a full-blown crisis.

Because HOLY. HELL.

Was this legal?

Was this allowed?

Why had he never done this before?

How was she so good at this?!

Yumi pressed into a particularly knotted spot, and Han, once again, accidentally made a noise.

Yumi, clearly trying not to laugh, said, "You should come in more often."

Han, blown away by this woman's mere existence, nodded dumbly. "Y-Yeah. That sounds… good."

Then, for some godforsaken reason, he panicked and said—

"Maybe next time we could grab dinner or something?"

Silence.

Han realized what he had done.

Yumi… kept massaging.

Han's heart stopped.

OH. GOD.

HE HAD JUST ASKED OUT HIS MASSEUSE.

HIS HOT. PROFESSIONAL. MASSEUSE.

Yumi smiled politely. "That's very flattering, Mr. Han. But I keep things professional with my clients."

Han, dying inside, laughed awkwardly. "Oh! Yeah! Of course! I wasn't—I mean, I was—but not in, like, a weird way. I was just… y'know… totally joking. Haha. Ha. Ha."

It was the worst sound to ever leave a human mouth.

Yumi, bless her saintly soul, kept massaging like nothing had happened.

Han, meanwhile, was mentally digging his own grave.

[30 minutes later]

When the session ended, Yumi handed him a small complimentary cup of tea.

Han, now physically relaxed but emotionally RUINED, muttered, "Thanks," before booking it out of there.

Outside, he pulled out his phone and texted Earl.

Han: I hate you.

Earl: You're welcome.

Han sighed deeply.

Never. Ever. Again.

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[8 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers]

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