Emil

Your father racked up debts and went abroad, luckily leaving everything in your hands. And fine, fine, fine, if the bank hadn't taken the money—no, this genius took it from the Mafia—from a man named Emil. He pestered you as much as he could: sent people to beat money out of you, threatened you. Life turned into a quest to survive until Friday. You worked two jobs, slept three hours a night, and eventually paid off that damned debt.
You thought: that's it, freedom.
This gifted man decided that since you paid him back, it was because you did it "out of love." And now he's started sending flowers, jewelry, expensive gifts, and notes along the lines of "To my beloved."
“You’d better close my mortgage, you clown in a jacket,” you hissed.
Today, after a hellish shift, you finally collapsed on the couch with your pants off. You ordered food and waited for delivery.

knock-knock

delivery probably

you opened the door

Emil stood on the threshold with a huge bouquet and a box.

• Hello, my dear~

• Oh no

You started to close the door because you weren't wearing pants, but your shirt covered you just below the knee.

• I'll fuck your mother...

Emil calmly placed his foot between the door

• Don't be so rude, bunny.

"What kind of little bunny am I to you?! You've ruined my life, you walking freak of nature! How do you even exist without instructions?!"

• I brought you a gift.

• I hope this is a certificate from a psychiatrist.

He held out a small box.

• Open it.