Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 208: Boy in the Thorns (11)

Dragon Raja 3

“Boss, you’re the head of the family now. You don’t just have little money.”

“The family’s money is the family’s. Mine is mine. I have a fund at Mitsubishi Bank, and I set up a trust for the three of you. Once I leave, the family won’t tolerate you three any longer. You’re the former head’s retainers, so you’ll be pushed out. You’re not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, and family politics aren’t your game. Before I leave, I’ll have you expelled from the family, but the money in Mitsubishi Bank will be enough for each of you to buy a house. I’ve also bought a few small shops in Minami Aoyama, all under Sakura’s name—not because I’m not giving them to you and Crow, but because you’re a gambler, and Crow’s always tangled up with women. You’d never hold onto the money. Sakura will be the owner of those shops, and every month she’ll distribute the profits to you two. There’s a ramen shop in one of the buildings, and if you ever hit rock bottom, you can eat there for free.” Chisei spoke softly.

“Congrats, Boss,” Yasha said after a long silence.

“Congrats for what?”

“For real this time. You’ve always talked about leaving, but you never did much about it. You’d just buy some sunscreen online to experiment with. But now, you’ve got everything arranged, so that means you’re ready to leave at any time.” Yasha scratched his head and sighed. “Boss, have you thought about taking Sakura with you to sell sunscreen?”

“Taking Sakura?” Chisei frowned.

“Crow and I both think Sakura’s pretty. You’re not that fluent in French, so it won’t be easy to blend in. Wouldn’t it be nice to bring along a beautiful woman? She could serve as a maid and keep you company.” Yasha peeked at Chisei’s expression from the corner of his eye.

“Get lost. Let me be alone for a while. Take the Principal’s file back to the archives,” Chisei said, his face expressionless.

“I’ll finish this cigarette and then get lost.”

“Get lost now.”

“Fine, fine. Should I get lost and then come back later?” Yasha knelt beside the table, packing up the file.

“No need for that. Go find Crow and Sakura and hold a meeting. I need a plan to attack the Elysium Hall. It’s a den of evil, yet it’s been operating in the mountains of Osaka for so long. There must be politicians and high-ranking police officers protecting it. I want to know who those people are. I also want to know how many guards, how much weaponry, how much cash, and how many customers are at Elysium Hall. The fewer casualties, the better. I don’t want to deploy the entire Execution Bureau for this. Block all the roads in and out, and don’t let a single one of the listed targets escape!” Chisei crushed his cigarette on a stone sculpture.

“Boss… do you want to take a look at this photo? I feel like the relationship between Head Inuyama and the Principal doesn’t seem like one of deep hatred,” Yasha said, sounding surprised.

Chisei paused, turning back to the table. The photo Yasha was referring to was tucked into the file. It was an overexposed black-and-white picture of an old man and a young man posing in front of a naval port. They stood in the water, which came up to their calves, with their pant legs rolled up high. In the background was an aircraft carrier, towering like a skyscraper. The older man stood behind the young one, his hands resting on the younger man’s shoulders. Both of their faces were squinting and contorted from the bright sunlight. The label underneath indicated that this was a 1948 photo of the first head of Cassell College’s Japanese branch, Inuyama, and Anjou. Chisei was a bit surprised. In the photo, Inuyama sported the “youth” hairstyle typical of the Showa era, looking quite immature. Chisei did a quick mental calculation, realizing that at the time, Inuyama was just a young man in his late teens, and standing next to Anjou, he looked half his size. But today, they seemed like peers, with Anjou appearing even younger.

“This doesn’t necessarily indicate a close relationship. Back then, Inuyama was the Principal’s puppet, probably acting friendly on purpose,” Chisei said.

“No, no, that’s not it. You wouldn’t understand because you don’t have a father. If you had one, you’d see it.” Yasha’s voice carried a hint of pride.

“What does this have to do with me not having a father?” Chisei’s soft spot had been poked.

“Look at Anjou’s posture, with his hands on Inuyama’s shoulders. My dad used to do the same thing in photos, resting all his weight on me. I’d complain, telling him to stand up straight, and he’d hit me with an umbrella, saying, ‘A son is a father’s crutch! It’s your job to hold me up!’ He was just making excuses. In a father’s mind, his son is always a child, someone shorter than him. When taking pictures, the shorter one is supposed to stand in the front,” Yasha explained.

Chisei paused, realizing that Tachibana’s final gesture before leaving had been similar—placing his hands on his shoulders, just like in the photo of Inuyama and Anjou.

“The Principal is here because of the mass resignation at the Japanese branch, right?” Miyamoto Shio finally couldn’t hold back his question.

“You’re managed by the Execution Bureau. Your mass resignation is Schneider’s problem to deal with, not mine. I came here mainly to visit old friends. It’s cherry blossom season, a perfect time for travel,” Anjou replied, sounding a bit tipsy.

“You mean to say you don’t want to go to war with the Eight Houses of the Orochi?” Ryoma Genichiro asked, confused.

Inuyama waved his hand. “Let me explain. You might not be familiar with how the Principal talks. What he means is that your resignations aren’t a big deal to him. He’s leaving it to Professor Schneider to handle. He’s here for a bigger issue.”

“Ah, you’re a good interpreter” Anjou chuckled.

“If it’s something big enough for you to personally come, it must be the Tengen Plan, right? For decades, the Secret Party has coveted the secrets of the Eight Houses of the Orochi. That’s why you high-and-mighty European aristocrats have stooped to working with the underworld,” Inuyama Ka’s tone suddenly grew cold.

“No, not at all. Really,” Anjou continued to smile. “I don’t look down on the underworld.”

“You never used to be one for polite words, Principal.”

“When I say I don’t look down on you, I mean it. Don’t mistake me for one of those stiff old board members,” Anjou said as he raised his glass slowly. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have let you live until today.”

It was as if invisible swords shot out from all around him, making the girls nearby instinctively back away.

“Principal, up to this point, we’ve treated you as a friend. That’s why I had my goddaughters accompany you and why we arranged such a grand banquet. Do you really want to flip the table over?” Inuyama frowned, his gaze sharp as a blade.

Anjou played with his glass. “In 1946, I came to Japan on behalf of Cassell College, and you represented the Eight Houses of the Orochi in our negotiations. That was also in a tearoom like this. You brought a group of women to drink with us, and halfway through the meal, you started talking business. You put on the same aggressive face, saying that Japanese hybrids would never bow to foreigners. The way you’re talking to me now feels just like it did in 1946—except now we’re both a few decades older.”

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