Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 204: Boy in the Thorns (7)

Dragon Raja 3

Without waiting for a reply, Anjou turned and headed for the exit. Hasegawa scrambled to grab the suitcase and follow him, while the men in black lined up on both sides, bowing deeply.

Anjou waved his hand dismissively without breaking stride. “Good day, classmates!”

“Good day, Principal!” the men in black chorused.

Dozens of black-suited men followed in Anjou’s wake, spreading out like black wings, with Anjou as the eye of this dark crane. Kaoru stood there, stunned, along with everyone else in the hall.

As night fell, the convoy of Mercedes pulled up in front of a gleaming black crystal-like building. Hasegawa Yutaka respectfully opened the door. “Please, Principal.”

Anjou glanced up at the massive neon sign in the night sky. “Tamamo-mae Club.”

“You didn’t bring me to a shrine or your newly built headquarters, but to a club?” Anjou seemed neither displeased nor resistant, in fact, he looked mildly intrigued.

“This is the most luxurious club under our family’s management. The welcoming party is being held here,” Hasegawa explained as he led the way. “The family head said that you were a romantic man in your younger days. ‘Tamamo-mae’ is a sacred place in the hearts of men. All of Tokyo’s men know that Shibuya is a catwalk of beautiful women, but they also say that seeing all the beauties of Shibuya doesn’t compare to spending a night at Tamamo-mae.”

“What’s the meaning behind the name ‘Tamamo-mae’?” Anjou asked.

“Tamamo-no-Mae was the name of a nine-tailed fox spirit from mythology. She was a seductress born in India, who later became Daji in China and bewitched King Zhou of Shang. After being hunted by Jiang Ziya, she fled to Japan, where she charmed Emperor Toba, who gave her the name Tamamo-no-Mae. In the end, the onmyoji Abe no Seimei and his ancestor Abe no Taira slew her in the Nasu fields. Tamamo-mae Club is famous for its beautiful women,” Hasegawa explained enthusiastically. “We hope the Principal will be satisfied.”

“Does Agawa know what kind of women I like?” Anjou smiled slightly. “I’m very particular.”

“Whatever your preferences may be, the Inuyama family is confident we can fulfill them,” Hasegawa said, pushing open the door.

The space felt ethereal and pristine, like the glass world described in Buddhist scriptures.

The floor was seamlessly pieced together with crystal glass, and beneath their feet, colorful lights shifted and glowed. The ceiling, however, was adorned with elegant wooden pillars and eaves, while crimson staircases spiraled up the walls. Anyone stepping into Tamamo-mae for the first time would feel an overwhelming sense of unreality, as if they were floating amidst rays of sunset.

Girls dressed in maple-red kimonos lined up in the dance floor, their skin as smooth and luxurious as golden silk. In myth, the nine-tailed fox Tamamo-no-Mae had a body of pure gold, one that even emperors could not resist. To recreate this allure, the girls were dusted in golden powder, their bodies shimmering. Faint patterns could be seen on their golden skin — short Japanese poems. Before applying the gold dust, the girls had placed stencils on their skin, and after peeling them away, verses from the Diamond Sutra remained. Each girl had different phrases etched onto her body, and together, they formed a complete sutra.

“It’s like standing in a golden forest of monuments,” Anjou smiled. Indeed, it was a forest of monuments, each girl’s body serving as a monument inscribed with the most seductive Buddhist scripture.

An old man wearing a navy blue kimono stood at the top, holding a white paper fan, tapping it rhythmically against his palm.

The music began, and the golden dancers moved energetically, dozens of golden legs forming graceful curves in the air. Anjou strolled through the formation, the forest of legs rising and falling around him, the scent of gold dust wafting through the air.

The band, located on the second floor, was made up of girls dressed in traditional kimonos, their necklines open to reveal skin as pale as jade, a contrast to the golden dancers below. No wonder Hasegawa Yutaka was so confident in the appeal of Tamamo-mae’s girls. As far as the eye could see, beauties filled the hall. Over a hundred different women, each with their own distinct allure, sang and danced to welcome the same guest. There might be clubs in Tokyo more luxurious than Tamamo-mae, but few would dare claim to have a more dazzling ensemble of beautiful women.

This was the specialty of the Inuyama clan — they had been the emperors of Japan’s entertainment industry for generations.

When the song ended, the dancers and musicians bowed in unison, “Good evening, Principal!”

A burst of confetti exploded from the ceiling, and countless flower petals rained down, covering the floor, stairs, and Anjou’s shoulders.

Anjou ascended to the third floor, where a man in a navy kimono waited by the crimson railing. He had salt-and-pepper hair, a strong, upright posture, and thick, arched eyebrows — in his youth, he must have been a strikingly handsome man with an Eastern elegance.

It was Inuyama, the head of the Inuyama clan.

“Principal, it’s been sixty-two years since we last met,” Inuyama said with a slight bow.

“I thought you might welcome me with a hail of bullets, but it looks like you’ve opted for something softer — flesh,” Anjou replied with a smile.

“I merely wanted to show you my collection from over the years,” Inuyama replied. “Beauty is the most precious of my treasures.”

“You never change, you damn pimp.” Anjou slapped Inuyama Ka’s shoulder hard. The two men laughed, then embraced with vigor.

At the end of the hallway, a door slid open, revealing a room filled with soft light and the silhouettes of girls.

“Welcome,” the girls bowed in unison, their long hair cascading down in delicate arcs.

It was a serene Japanese-style room, with all four walls made of wooden latticework covered in white paper. In the center of the room stood a long table, and on it was a copper basin filled with clear water, scattered with cherry blossoms. The room was minimalistic, its only decoration being the girls themselves.

“Looking at these girls, I see that you do understand my tastes after all, Agawa.” Anjou sat down at the far end of the long table.

The girls seated along the sides of the table wore black school uniforms and white blouses, each with her own unique beauty. It was like experiencing ten different romantic encounters, from different times and places, all gathered together in this one room. Compared to them, the sexy and elegant dancers downstairs suddenly seemed less striking. Anjou pulled out a cigar from his case, lit it, and then tossed the case onto the table. Immediately, a flicker of flame appeared in front of him, and the girl closest to him knelt down to light his cigar with a long matchstick. Anjou exhaled a puff of blue smoke and locked eyes with the two men sitting across from him.

“Ryoma family head, Ryoma Genichiro,” Inuyama introduced.