Chapter 7: The last sip.

The"Caronte Threshold Café"was a small establishment with warm lights and the aroma of freshly ground coffee. Its decor, with statuettes of boatmen and rivers painted in dark tones, evoked a morbid yet elegant atmosphere. It was a quiet place where people used to take refuge from the autumn chill that was already beginning to hit the city.

Dylan shifted in his seat, listlessly stirring the coffee in his cup. Emma, across from him, looked impatient, her nails tapping against the worn wooden table.

"I don't know why you insisted on coming here," Emma muttered, crossing her arms. "If you wanted a date, we could have gone somewhere else. This place is disgusting."

Dylan sighed.

"I thought it would do us some good to get away from it all, you know? Try to get back to normal after... after everything."

Emma snorted, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Back to normal, of course," she said sarcastically. "As if that were possible after what happened."

There was an awkward silence. Outside, the rain was beginning to fall gently against the cafe's large windows.

Emma abruptly set her cup down on the table and glared at Dylan.

"You know what would really help me get back to normal? If that bitch Myeong would just disappear."

Dylan frowned.

"Emma, stop it."

"No, seriously," she continued bitterly. "This all started because of her. Don't you see? It's just too weird. Everything was going well, but then, out of nowhere, the gym catches fire and we almost died. And who was there? Myeong."

Dylan gritted his teeth.

"Do you hear yourself? That's ridiculous."

"No, it's not. Tell me, how did she know exactly when to get us out of there?"

"Emma, stop it. She saved us," Dylan replied firmly. "If it weren't for her, you and I would be dead."

Emma laughed in disbelief.

"Saved us?" she said disdainfully. "Please, Dylan." Don't be naive.

While they were arguing, small events began to unfold around them, unnoticed by them.

A waiter passed by their table, holding a tray with three cups of coffee. One of the customers suddenly moved out of his seat, colliding with the waiter. The tray wobbled, and one of the cups fell to the floor, spilling the steaming liquid.

The hot liquid slowly slid under the table, reaching an exposed wire hanging from one of the decorative ceiling lights. The heat from the drink caused a slight spark, barely perceptible, but enough to heat a small loose screw within the electrical system.

The screw, weakened by the heat, fell into the lamp's mechanism.

The vibration caused the lamp to flicker and one of the bulbs to explode with a small pop. A shard of glass fell into the glass of an unsuspecting customer, who, while trying to clean it, spilled his soda on the table.

The liquid slid to the floor, right where a waiter was carrying a tray of sharp cutlery. It slipped, and the tray fell to the floor with a loud crash. A kitchen knife slipped and slid under the coffee counter, colliding with a cleaning bucket leaning against a pile of dirty dishes.

The bucket tipped, causing soapy water to run down one of the legs of a wobbly table.

The ill-adjusted table tilted slightly. An open salt shaker lay on it.

The jar fell.

The contents of the salt shaker spilled onto the floor, right where an old man was struggling to get up from his seat.

When the old man stepped on the salt, he slipped, sending his cane flying into the air.

The cane collided with a shelf where several porcelain cups were placed.

The cups fell like dominoes, causing one of them to bounce and hit a glass vase on the coffee bar.

The vase fell, shattered on the floor, and one of the larger glass shards slid dangerously close to the foot of an employee who didn't notice it.

Meanwhile, Dylan and Emma continued their argument, completely oblivious to the chain of events unfolding around them.

"I don't understand why you're so defensive of her," Emma said, her eyes narrowed. "Do you even like her?"

Dylan sighed in frustration.

"It's not that, Emma. I'm just saying you can't blame someone without proof."

"Of course I can!" Emma exclaimed, slamming her palm on the table. "Because this is all her fault!"

At that instant, the employee who had stepped on the glass let out a cry of pain and stumbled backward, pushing a tray of plates and cutlery.

The tray tipped over, and one of the large knives flew out.

The knife spun through the air, reflecting the lamplight.

Dylan and Emma finally looked up when they heard the scream and the crash of breaking plates.

But it was too late.

The knife landed hard on Emma's neck.

Her eyes widened in horror as the blade sank deep into her flesh.

A spurt of blood erupted from the wound, splattering the table and Dylan's face.

Emma tried to speak, but only made a sickening gurgle as blood filled her throat.

Dylan screamed, bolting upright, his chair falling to the floor with a crash.

"Emma!"

The horror in his eyes intensified as Emma fell to her knees and then to the floor, writhing in a pool of her own blood.

But the tragedy wasn't over yet.

Stepping back, Dylan stepped into a puddle of spilled coffee.

He slipped, losing his balance, and fell backward.

His head hit the sharp edge of the coffee counter with a sharp crunch.

For a second, his limbs spasmed before he went completely still.

A trickle of dark blood began to slide from his skull, staining the floor beneath his head.

The entire café fell deathly silent.

The customers stared at the scene in horror.

One of the servers, still pale from what he had just witnessed, looked at the check he had been about to hand to Dylan and Emma before it all happened.

With trembling hands, he dropped it on the bloody table.

The paper was stained with a trail of blood.

The final amount printed on it:23.40.


Notes:

So, who can guess what the number 2340 has to do with all this?