Hell'O' Brother 🔞

Chapter 1 : A Taste of Fire

"In the quiet corners of life, where warmth meets strength, sometimes a stranger walks in, carrying the weight of fire in his eyes. And just like that, the world shifts, as though fate had been waiting all along for two forces to collide."

- Vespera

In the cozy bustle of a small cafe, the scent of roasted coffee beans mingled with the soft chatter of patrons enjoying their drinks. Warm lights cast a gentle glow over mismatched chairs and worn wooden tables, giving the place a homely charm. People sipped from their cups, lost in their books or conversations, savoring the comfort of the space.

At one table near the window, a shy, slender boy with tousled hair sat clutching a mug of cocoa, his gaze lowered as he stirred quietly. His sweater looked a little too big for him, swallowing his small frame in soft folds. But the calm of the cafe shattered when a group of rough-looking young men strolled in, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere with laughter that sounded more like jeers.

Noticing the boy by the window, one of them snickered, nudging his friend with a smirk. They swaggered over, blocking the light that had been spilling through the window onto the boy's table. "Hey, kid," one of them sneered, leaning in too close. "Having a good time?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he reached over, flicking the edge of the boy's cup, spilling some cocoa onto the table.

The boy's face flushed as he tried to slide his chair back, but another one of the bullies held it in place, trapping him. They started taunting him, one by one, each louder and more intrusive. Finally, one of the bullies took a carton of milk and poured it over the boy's head, sending a milky cascade over his hair and down his sweater. A small whimper escaped the boy, but his cries only fueled their laughter.

"Look at him-he's about to cry" one of them mocked, waving his phone as if to record the humiliation.

But just as another boy lifted a steaming cup of coffee, ready to throw it onto the poor boy, a hand shot out and gripped his wrist firmly. The laughter died as the group looked up to find a girl standing there, her eyes fierce and unwavering, her hand holding the bully's wrist in an iron grip.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said with a calm yet icy tone. Her eyes flashed with a controlled fury, and she tightened her grip, making him wince. The boy jerked his hand, trying to free himself, but she didn't let go.

"Back off, lady. This isn't your business," one of the bullies spat, trying to intimidate her.

She only raised an eyebrow. "It's very much my business. This is my shop, and I don't allow trash like you to litter it," she said, her voice deceptively sweet. "This is a place for my customers to relax. And guess what? He," she pointed to the trembling boy with milk dripping down his face, "is one of my customers."

Another bully sneered and, in an act of defiance, grabbed a vase from a nearby table, letting it fall to the floor with a loud crash. Broken ceramic shards scattered across the floor, and a hush fell over the cafe.

Her gaze darkened, and without warning, she slapped the boy who'd dropped the vase. It wasn't a quick, panicked slap-it was a calm, deliberate strike that left him stunned. "I warned you not to mess with me or my shop," she said, her tone colder than ice.

One of the others stepped forward, puffing up his chest, trying to look tough. "You think you're scaring us? You're just a girl," he sneered.

"Oh, I'm scared," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she folded her arms. "And you think you're what some big shot?" She grabbed his wrist and twisted it slightly, enough to make him flinch but not enough to hurt. "Look at you, trying to threaten me while you still wear your pants with a belt, like some child playing dress-up."