Dusk settled, and in Puffshroom Home, Bianca zipped around with a few Puffshrooms, tidying the kitchen spotless, pots and pans back in place.
Like always, she herded the done Puffshrooms into a neat line, trotting one by one to the backyard shed lined with a mycelial blanket for rest. One Puffshroom trailed her, its body faintly sloshing—leftover tasty mushroom soup from the shop, packed up with Dylan’s okay.
“Boss, all cleaned up! I’m heading out!” Bianca called toward the counter, voice chipper.
“Wait, Bianca, today I’m going with—” Dylan, crouched behind the counter sorting stuff, stood quick, but she was gone. Only a glimpse of a Puffshroom’s stubby legs flashed outside the inn’s door.
“Geez… kids these days, always in a rush.” Dylan shook his head.
Yesterday, the boss dropped a new skill on him via the Mycelial Network, ordering him to “stock up” at Bianca’s place today—without saying what.
He planned to tag along for an excuse, but she bolted.
Good thing he knew her address. He’d go solo.
Empty-handed felt wrong, so he grabbed a small bag of dried tasty mushrooms from the shelf.
With Mushroom Fields expanding, these once-luxury snacks were now just pricey but affordable.
Bianca’s pay could cover a treat, but she was thrifty. A gift from the boss? Perfect.
Bag in hand, Dylan strolled toward Mushroom City’s northwest resettlement zone.
Meanwhile, Bianca jogged through lively, lamp-lit streets.
She paced herself, not too fast, so the soup-toting Puffshroom could keep up.
On the streets, she often saw fellow Puffshroom Masters with one or two Puffshrooms trailing.
But turning into the resettlement zone, those sights vanished.
The zone, first set up by Farr for war refugees, had dirt-cheap rent but grim conditions.
Rows of cramped, long wooden shacks packed in a dozen, sometimes twenty, people per room.
As Mushroom City stabilized, anyone with means or savings bailed for better digs.
The zone slid toward a slum.
Bianca, despite steady work at Puffshroom Home, couldn’t save for a move—her mom’s illness ate cash for meds.
Now, after months of care, her mom was better, and her Puffshroom Master gig boosted her pay.
Today’s paycheck in hand, she thought it might be time to move Mom to a comfier, hopeful home. The idea lightened her steps.
But reaching her shack, she froze. Familiar, hated figures blocked the flimsy wooden door. She turned to slip away, but they spotted her.
The lanky leader sauntered over, fake smile plastered on.
“Hey, little Bianca’s back? Saves us bugging your mom.” He rubbed his fingers. “This month’s interest—time to pay up.”
“We cleared the agreed interest ages ago!”
“Cleared?” He sneered, pulling a crumpled, smudged parchment. “Black and white: ‘Interest weekly till the principal’s paid.’ Can’t read? You signed it!”
“You didn’t say that!” Bianca’s voice shook. “It was monthly—those extra terms are your scam!”
Neighbors, hearing the noise, shut windows or watched from shadows, none daring to speak.
Everyone knew this shady crew, a new gang preying on the poor and refugees. Cross them, and you’re toast.
“Don’t talk smack, kid. It’s clear as day.” He stepped closer. “No cash? I got a job for you…”
Mid-sentence, he eyed the mycelial marks on her face, hesitated, then dropped the “job” pitch, shoving her. “Enough chat! Got money or not?”
Bianca stumbled, toppling the Puffshroom behind her!
It rolled, spilling warm mushroom soup everywhere. Her money pouch fell, silver and copper coins scattering, glinting faintly.
The leader’s eyes lit up. He snatched the pouch, weighed it, and grinned. “Hiding cash, huh? This covers this month’s interest. Get the rest soon, or we won’t be so nice!”
“That’s mine! Give it back!” Bianca lunged, clawing for the pouch, nearly biting his grimy hand!
“Bianca! Stop!” Her mom rushed out, grabbing her tight, voice breaking. “Don’t! Don’t do it!”
The leader, startled by her fire, turned furious. “You dare? Time to learn some manners!”
“What a punk…”
A sudden voice drew all eyes.
“Boss?” Bianca gaped at Dylan.
“You ran off too fast. This is for you.” Dylan, ignoring the tense vibe, strolled up, handing her the mushroom bag.
“This… can wait till tomorrow…” Bianca fumbled, thrown off.
“Nah, maybe fate timed it to calm your nerves.” Dylan smiled gently.
The leader, ignored, snapped, “Hey! Old man, where’d you crawl from? Meddling?”
“Old man… tch. How much does my clerk owe? I’ll cover it.” Dylan pulled a hefty pouch.
Hearing “pay,” the leader’s eyes gleamed. He sized Dylan up, then demanded, “Not much—two gold coins!”
“He’s lying!” Bianca shouted.
The leader glared, but Dylan, unfazed, calmly handed over a shiny gold coin.
“Let’s talk details privately.” Dylan slung an arm around him, stepping away from Bianca and her mom.
The leader, clutching the coin, followed. Glancing at Dylan’s eyes, he caught a faint purple glint.
Dylan leaned in, whispering like sharing a secret, “Rushed out, short on gold. Tonight, bring your boys to this spot…” He named a quiet area near Puffshroom Dungeon’s entrance. “Not just one gold coin—ten, easy.”
Staring into Dylan’s hypnotic eyes, the leader’s mind fogged. He nodded. “Uh… yeah! Gold’s good! I’ll bring the crew tonight!”
Watching him, Dylan recalled his own charmed daze—same dumb look?
As the leader and his goons swaggered off with the coin, Bianca clutched the mushroom bag, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Boss… you really gave them the money?”
Dylan couldn’t say he’d pay nothing and flip it for profit tonight.
He just smiled, patted her head. “Money’s gone, but you’re safe. Don’t sweat it.”
“Boss…!” Bianca’s bottled-up fear, grievance, and relief burst. She threw herself at Dylan, hugging his neck, sobbing quietly.
She was just a kid, her toughness a shield against thuggish gangs.
Her mom, wiping tears, thanked Dylan endlessly, nearly kneeling.
The spilled Puffshroom, ignored, slowly rose from the sticky soup mess, quietly standing behind Bianca.
(End of Chapter)
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