The whole shop was too frozen to erupt in mass panic at the revelation. Mr. Jung, a keyholder? He couldn’t have a Key–I’ve seen him countless times, nothing about him screamed “supernatural” or a man capable of doing anything but baking pastries. The look on Jung’s face showed the same reaction. He was just as bewildered as everyone else.

The silence was potent, leaving the sounds of strained breaths to fill the void. Those who had been watching the sequence of events from the beginning had their eyes glued, unable to pull anyway anymore; people who had been ignoring it prior were unable to keep their gazes away, turning to make it all they could focus on; and well for me, I wanted to fight. This didn’t make any sense, Jung wasn’t—I could tell he wasn’t. No one else… no one else would believe that. Yes, everyone could trust Mr. Jung—

“What a vile man…”

I turned my head to the voice, to see Linda scowling at him. One of the regulars here, had a look of disgust I’d never seen directed at anyone. It seemed to cascade, many people had tried turning their heads away, but they all looked the same. Disgusted, betrayed, saddened; all at a mere revelation.

What? People are actually buying this?! Why was everyone so quick to think that any of this was true? It was Jung!

The sharp woman turned a glance over to the smaller woman, sharing another exchange of nods. “It’d be best for you not to resist. Your Key has been neutralized for the time being, don’t make us resort to force.” She declared, with the short woman having followed through. She pulled a pair of cuffs out from the sleeve of her sweater, but as she touched Jung he seemed to snap back into reality as warm metal hit his arm.

“W-Wait! This isn’t!–” Jung’s face met the counter in an instant, it wasn’t hard but quick. A turquoise snake of what looked to be living paint sprouted from the curly woman’s sleeve, both restraining and pressing him down against the counter.

Panicked shrieks and gasps echoed throughout the establishment, mothers covering the faces of their children, some patrons pulled out their phones to record, and others had been sitting on the sidelines so disgusted that they looked at their plates with contempt.

“Hey!” What the hell was I doing? Everyone else was shutting up.

My feet dragged me to the counter, turning the eyes of many of the patrons in confusion and concern.

“What are you!—” I tried to speak, but the sharp glare of the woman shut me up faster than I ever thought. Getting closer to her seemed to exaggerate the pressure she already had, was that her Key?

“Is there a problem, citizen?” She asked.

“You… You’re wrong, Jung isn’t!”

“How isn’t he? Does he not have a Key?”

“He doesn’t!”

“So that symbol on his chest is fake?”

“Well… yeah… It is!”

“Is there any evidence? Are you saying that he purposely got a tattoo to appear as a keyholder?”

“I–There doesn’t–he wouldn’t get a tattoo…!”

“So, he has a Key or he was incompetent and got a tattoo. He has either violated the Mandatory Key Registration law or the Anti-Impersonation Laws. Both risking an immediate arrest by authorities and by the Black Ring Organization. Especially if a report is filed prior. It took us several days to get the needed jurisdiction to arrive here. That is time wasted that we could be using to subdue threats.” She chastised me, glaring down at me with a scowl that nearly caused me to crumble.

“I-”

“Keep it. Time is a luxury.” She finished, hoisting Jung up from where his body was pressed by the back of his collar. She dropped him in front of me, however, despite the placing I could reason that it wasn’t meant for me. That didn’t make it any better.

I was made to look down at him. A broken, crumbled up man who was humiliated in his own establishment. None of this could be real. He couldn’t have been reduced to this. I could’ve done something, but… they already had him here. What could I do that would… no. I couldn’t.

My head turned to the patrons. They can’t look at me like that.

The shorter woman moved over, the painted snake still lingered as it coiled its body around Jung—lifting him up and onto his feet. Jung’s face had lifted up to me, delirious and confused.

“Noah, I’m…” You’re innocent, come on Mr. Jung. “I’m sorry… you’re a good kid.”

I felt my chest ache, turning to watch him be escorted out of the cafe. In the moments of his arrest, he spoke kindly to me. The stern woman lingered for just a moment longer, just to drive that nail in the coffin. “The threat has been removed, you may all return to your day.” And with that, she left.

“I ate somewhere owned by one of those devils?! A Key?”

“How could they allow him to go for this long…”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I’m going to be sick…”

“How could I work here without knowing… oh god, where will I work now? Who’ll hire me…?” An employee sobbed.

“Good thing they’re cleaning up one of their own.”

“He deserves further punishment.”

“I guess we know what happened to his wife.”

“Oh lord, I don’t even wish to imagine.”

Everyone immediately turned. It hadn’t even taken seconds, as if the removal of Jung was all they needed to get it all out. The frustration, disgust, and betrayal; all of those faces and emotions screamed at me.

I wanted to do something, just move again, maybe I could convince them to let him go. I began walking to the door but a hand grabbed onto my shoulder to anchor me in place. I turned to see Nate standing behind me, shaking his head.

“Don’t. You’ll be getting yourself in trouble too.”

I was confused. I got why he said what he said, but why wouldn’t he want me trying to help? It was only when I glanced around to notice all the other faces in the crowd. Looking at me with indecision but also concern. If I walked through that door, how many people would I have made fear for my safety… or worse, turn against me for seeming like a sympathizer?

So, I stopped. Frozen in place with Nate giving me one last pat on the shoulder as he turned back around and headed for the kitchen. With those emotions now aired, the remaining patrons within the café had stood from their seats in a rush. Pushing them violently, and even with such force that some chairs fell to the floor as the customers began leaving the small restaurant in droves.

That was the day Jung’s Café died.

∎∎∎

[Late Night, 7:00~ PM]

The streets were quieter than they normally were. Many of the surrounding establishments had closed earlier, a likely consequence of the arrest. Now a tad evasive when it came to walking down the block.

While several of the employees had left following Jung’s arrest, there were those who decided to stick it out to see if any profit could be made. We wanted to tough it out, many of them had been here for years, some didn’t want to give up on the cozy job they’ve had; but many of them found themselves jumping ship eventually as the day progressed. No one could blame them either.

The sight of Macy tearing up wasn’t any better. She was the first to go. She was one of the many people like me who were impacted positively by Jung. Heck, he may have raised some of us. Not many of us had qualifications before this job, and now, those qualifications may’ve been royally screwed with the revelations…

I had been cleaning the same table for about ten minutes before Nate walked up to me, hands tucked away in the pockets of black and gray hoodie. I could feel him just watching me, and when he knew I wasn’t going to initiate any conversation he decided to speak up.

“Talked to some of the guys before they left. They’re talking about reviving this place when the bad publicity dies.” He told me, once again, the right words to get me to raise my head.

“They're…?”

“Yeah. It’s a crappy situation, but some of them still like Mr. Jung. And well, some of them think they’d be fucked. A pastry chef isn’t really built for an office. So yeah, if you were going to say “they’re going to continue” then that’s your answer.” He yawned, giving me a silent stare with dullish black eyes.

People were still supporting Jung… or at the very least, they weren’t giving up on the establishment. I would’ve remained astounded if not for Nate slapping the top of my head.

“That means “don’t stay up.” Go get some rest when you’re done with your table cleaning or whatever you’re doing. Close up, don’t want anyone robbing the place. It’s already a bitch to clean up the reputation.” He shoved his hands back into the pockets of his hood. I gathered my thoughts to wave him off as the chimes of the café echoed throughout the empty establishment once he left into the night streets.

Even as my body found it difficult to relax, I could at least smile just a bit knowing that. Nate may have been a recluse on the surface, but once again, he knew people. It was probably because of his help that the cafe wouldn’t struggle for long. Wait, did he say that he was going to aid the others in reviving this place or… dammit, I forgot to ask.

I could wait. That was fine, it was back to the tables.

I fixed things back to where they should be for the night, settling the chairs atop of the tables and broomed whatever speck of dust I could find on the floors. If this place was going to one day be back in business, then I at least wanted to make sure it would be prepared.

…

Nothing felt right.

The situation with Jung, the Black Ring Organization, the quiet streets… it had gotten my body in a feeling of unease. No, it never left. A constant buzz in the back of my mind, suppressed by everything that had taken place in such a short-time. I could feel that odd air once again.

The hairs on the back of my neck were standing. Something was wrong… Jung… that lady… she was never looking at Jung with those eyes of hers. That ferocity she met me with when our gazes crossed in the streets.

…

It all clicked.

Chliik.

My body instinctively fell to a squatting position, the glass of the doors shattering as splinters broke free from the side of a wooden table. My head turned in the direction of the path of the bullet.

Of course, they weren’t after Jung. They were after me.

I heard another click from afar, immediately focusing my eyes on a rooftop afar before I lunged to the left. This time instead of tilting from the force, the table had fully recoiled backwards. A stronger shot that embedded into the wood of the table and created a larger hole.

Was the first shot a warning? Was me dodging all they needed to switch things up?

No, it was something else.

That sense of danger that caused my hairs to stand on end had built up on both sides of my back and front, telling me that the danger was coming from the table. What had been confusion turned to worry as my vision slowed. I watched as the table exploded from the bullet hole inside-out, the repeated sound of the bullet as a burst of splinters rocketed outwards.

Explosions... again?

[October 12th, 2022 : 7:37 PM]

Black Ring Organization vs Noah