I Married Three Calamities (And Got A System For It)

Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Two weeks

COUGH! COUGH!

’It hurts, alright.’ Mars thought as his head spun, his thoughts jumbled and grotesquely mangled.

He drew in a shaky breath, feeling his lungs strain against the damp, moist air of his room.

A room now steeped in the scent of iron, of sweat.

Mars lay sprawled on the ground, his face a bloody mess. His nose was cracked, blood trickling out. His lip was split from a merciless uppercut courtesy of Melinda, the pain still throbbing somewhere deep in his skull.

His whole body was bruised, red with beating; Harow and Melinda hadn’t gone easy on him at all.

Now the two gang members stood over him, Melinda pulling a cigarette from her pocket. She placed it between her lips, leaning toward Harow.

The man snapped his fingers, an orange flame flickering at the tip of his index finger. He lit the cigarette, and Melinda took a deep, satisfied drag, exhaling in a slow ring of smoke.

Mars couldn’t decide whether to be grateful they hadn’t used their Gifts while beating him. Maybe because they knew he’d die if they had.

And if he died, their money would be gone for good.

"We’ll give you two weeks, waiter. Two fucking weeks." Harow ground out, tightening his fist around a lock of Mars’s silver hair, yanking his head up so they faced each other, "You hear me? Next time is the last time. If you don’t have our money ready..."

Harow grinned coldly, fire smoldering deep in his icy eyes.

"...you really don’t want to find out."

Mars didn’t answer. He couldn’t have, even if he’d wanted to.

His throat was raw and aching from the beating, making it a genuine struggle just to breathe, let alone speak.

The two gang members hadn’t expected a response anyway. They looked at him one last time before Harow started toward the door. Melinda, though, crouched beside the breathless Mars, pulled the cigarette from her mouth, and pressed it against his skin, burning him.

Mars groaned.

She leaned down close to his ear,

"I told you, didn’t I?" She said, cruelty twisting her voice, "I told you I’d make you regret turning down my offer. Let’s be honest, asshole, you’ll never scrape together that money in time. So you’ve still got time to change your mind."

Mars looked at her through the blood coating his face as Melinda finished,

"Be my gigolo, and I’ll protect you. I’ll introduce you to wealthy women thirsty for young men like you, and you’ll have money, pay off your debt, actually make something of this life."

She grinned, slapped his cheek a few times, and stood up,

"Think it over, Mars. This is your shot at being someone."

She vanished shortly after, finally leaving Mars alone.

’Sorry, Melinda.’ He thought, coughing, lying on the bloodstained floor with a crooked grin, ’I’m a married man now, I can’t exactly be a gigolo. Thanks for the offer, though. I’d have considered it, if not for my current situation.’

The beating had been brutal, but Mars could already feel himself slowly, steadily healing.

’That’s what a Talent does for you. Sweet.’

He’d be able to move soon, patch himself up as best he could, and get home.

In the meantime, he started thinking about how he might actually raise the money. He doubted two weeks would be enough time for the Food Serum to generate that kind of income.

He needed another way.

’Ah, damn it all.’ He thought finally, before his eyes drifted shut, his body and mind desperate for rest.

It was nearly three hours later when Mars finally woke. He felt considerably better, able to move and speak now, though slowly and hoarsely.

He shuffled through his apartment, dug out some medical supplies, and got to work cleaning and disinfecting his wounds, downing a few painkillers along the way.

Then he washed off his own blood, grabbed his suitcase, and stepped out of the room.

Mars glanced at the sky and realized he’d stayed far longer than he’d planned.

He checked his phone, half-expecting some missed calls, before remembering he and his wives had only met the day before. They hadn’t even exchanged numbers yet.

Sighing, Mars walked out and made his way down the same street. He was limping now, his body still marked with scars and wounds.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. He needed a Healing Serum, and he had none.

Walking that street again brought him back to Aunt Mari, and out of nowhere, an idea struck him.

He walked toward her quickly, spotting Hope playing off to the side with some rocks. The young girl didn’t even notice him.

Mars was relieved. He didn’t want her seeing him in this state.

He arrived, five paces away or so, and pulled the key to his old apartment from his pocket, pressing it quickly into Aunt Mari’s hand before anyone could notice.

"Little Mars! What—!"

"This...this is the key to my apartment." Mars whispered, throat aching, "It’s small and crowded, but it can shelter you for now."

"But—!"

"No buts, please, listen, Aunt Mari." Mars cut in, grimacing through the pain, "It’s only for two weeks. The Wilted Flower gang will be coming to collect their money. But before then, you have two weeks, and I’ll find a way to get you out of there before that happens. Just be careful. Only go to the apartment at night, when no one’s watching. Okay?"

It had all happened so fast that Aunt Mari was still catching up. But the cold, jagged weight of the key in her palm told her this wasn’t a dream.

Her daughter...her daughter would finally get to sleep in an actual house.

That feeling overwhelmed her, though it was tangled with worry over Mars’s wounded state.

"I-I’m so grateful, little Mars, so grateful. But," her lips trembled, tears welling, threatening to fall, "are you okay? Who did this to you?"

"It’s nothing, don’t worry about it." Mars attempted a smile, wincing at the effort, "Nothing at all."

He said, then rose abruptly.

"Don’t forget my warning, Aunt Mari. And," he glanced at Hope, still playing, "tell her I said hi."

Mars disappeared soon after, heading home, limping, aching, dragging himself across the pavement.

"Those damned gangsters..."

...

Mars made it back to the house around 7pm. Before stepping inside, he glanced left and noticed someone standing near the neighboring house.

A woman, around 40, watching him skeptically. Black hair streaked with white, her figure filling out her robe generously.

Under normal circumstances, Mars would have loved striking up a conversation. Not today.

He simply nodded, opened his door, and stepped inside.

The moment the door shut, Mars found himself face to face with all three wives in the living room.

Each occupied with something of her own, none speaking, the silence heavy as a tomb.

But his appearance snapped all three of their heads toward him, eyes widening at the sight of his condition.

"You...what happened?" Moon asked, startled, her voice dropping dangerously, "What happened?"

Solaris frowned so deeply a crease formed between her brows.

Willow said nothing, though a faint, cold aura shimmered around her.

Mars looked at each of them, embarrassment flooding through him at his own state.

He regretted not having a Healing Potion, or any way to hide his wounds.

He already felt pitifully small and irrelevant in front of his wives, but what would they think now?

What would they think of a husband who’d let some gang members beat him half to death?

Shame bloomed in his chest, tightening so hard the words caught in his throat.

He took a deep breath, looked at each of them in turn, shook his head, and walked straight to his room, his voice trailing behind him, barely above a whisper,

"I just took a hard fall. Bad luck. Happens sometimes, I guess."

Soon, his bedroom door creaked open, then shut behind him.

Silence settled over the living room, the three of them exchanging blank looks, trying to make sense of what they’d just seen.

But then Willow rose slowly from the couch, heading toward her own room.

"Where are you going?" Solaris asked, her voice strangely, deeply angry.

"Where else? I want to see where Mars took his hard fall." She turned to look at them, and for the first time ever, Willow smiled.

"It could be dangerous for others, after all."

A dangerous, bloodthirsty smile.

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