Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 385: Night of the King’s Assassination (1)

Dragon Raja 3

In Tokyo’s Minato Ward, not far from the coast, one could faintly hear the sound of midnight tides. The tower stood tall in the pouring rain, like a gaunt giant, silently holding up the sky.

Tokyo Tower.

This tower, once the tallest point in Tokyo, had now been surpassed by the Tokyo Skytree. But looking up at it from directly below still inspired awe at its grandeur. The jagged steel supports made it seem less like a giant and more like the skeletal remains of one.

“Ukyo, Ukyo, Ruri calling, report your location,” Ruri’s voice came through the earpiece.

“We’ve reached the first level of the underground garage. It’s eerily quiet here,” Chu Zihang shined his tactical flashlight around. “The parking lot is wide and empty, most spots look like they haven’t seen cars in ages. No tire tracks anywhere.”

“Since the Tokyo Skytree was built, this place has been forgotten. People would rather climb a tower over 600 meters high to view Tokyo than come to this former tallest tower, which is only 300 meters now,” Ruri explained. “That’s why Osho chose this place for the meeting. It used to be a landmark of Tokyo, appearing in countless manga and movies. Couples considered it romantic to visit Tokyo Tower together, while heartbroken people would come here to commit suicide. It symbolized both the prosperity and loneliness of Tokyo. In Tokyo Babylon, there’s a ghost wandering inside Tokyo Tower, saying, ‘I hate Tokyo. It looks so glamorous on the outside, but inside, it’s so filthy.’”

“From the way you talk, it sounds like you don’t like Tokyo much,” Caesar commented.

“It’s more than just dislike. I sometimes wish I could burn this city down. It’s a city that makes people sad, like a glittering cage.”

“Sorry to interrupt your deep conversation, but I’m here, soaking wet and freezing cold. Loneliness and emptiness aside, hearing you guys chat so warmly makes me a bit envious.” Finger’s irritated voice crackled through the earpiece. “Could you two shut up, please?”

“I can’t see you at all from my position. You’re well hidden. Where exactly are you?” Lu Mingfei asked.

“I’m on the northwest side of the tower, about 60 meters from the special observation deck. Want me to shout a greeting so you’ll remember there’s a poor soul shivering in the wind and rain over here?” Finger snapped. “And by the way, is this balloon really reliable?”

“It’s a zeppelin,” Lu Mingfei corrected.

He lowered his sniper rifle and raised binoculars to scan the sky. Following Finger’s directions, he spotted the large black object floating in the storm, like a giant whale suspended in the restless sea. Its color blended with the night sky so well that it was almost impossible to discern.

It was a black advertising zeppelin, with Finger strapped beneath it, holding a laser eavesdropping device shaped like a rifle. The idea had come from Lu Mingfei, inspired by how Lu Mingze had used an advertising zeppelin to record his and Erii’s entire time together. Lu Mingfei had never suspected the zeppelin, even when he felt he was being followed—he only paid attention to people and vehicles around him. For most people, the sky was a blind spot, and though the zeppelin was close to the special observation deck, it was easily overlooked.

It was tough on Finger, though. Due to the zeppelin’s limited lift capacity, it couldn’t support a gondola, so they had to tie him up with ropes.

“We’ve reached the second level of the underground garage. There’s been a slight problem,” Chu Zihang said. “It’s been raining so long that the area is flooded. The water is half a meter deep. Caesar and I will have to wade through it to reach the duct entrance.”

The second level of the underground garage had turned into a small lake, with all the lights out and a few old cars submerged in the water. Caesar and Chu Zihang exchanged a glance, switched on their tactical flashlights mounted beneath their guns, and began wading through the water towards the location of the cable ducts on the blueprint. The stagnant water rippled and splashed as they moved.

“Basara! Ukyo! Silence! An unknown vehicle is approaching Tokyo Tower!” Ruri’s voice came through urgently.

A silver vintage Mercedes-Benz drove down the rain-soaked street, sending waves of water splashing as high as a person’s head. It pulled into the first level of the underground parking lot, and Caesar could hear the light, powerful sound of footsteps echoing above, as if the person were tapping out a fast-paced rhythm with their heels.

The high-speed elevator carried the mysterious visitor straight to the observation deck.

“It’s Tachibana. He arrived an hour early and drove himself,” Ruri said quietly.

“From the sound of his footsteps, he seems young,” Caesar remarked.

“Confirmed. I can see him clearly from here. He’s reached the main observation deck and is looking out the window. You’re right, he’s acting very strangely tonight—like a young man… just like the old Major Bondarev.”

Tachibana stood at the window, gazing out at the rain. In Ruri’s binoculars, the old man’s profile was strikingly handsome, his posture so upright it seemed as if some force had pulled him back thirty years to his prime. From this high vantage point, he looked down at the world below as if it were all within his grasp. Only someone like him—a madman—would dream of claiming the throne of the world. In his eyes, nothing was impossible.

Tonight, Tachibana wasn’t wearing a kimono. Instead, he was dressed in the black trench coat of the Execution Bureau, with the front open to reveal a multicolored shirt beneath.

All around him, there were glass walls. The rain pounded on the windows, reflecting both the city of Tokyo and Tachibana’s own image. The skyscrapers, illuminated by countless lights, stood tall in the rain-soaked night like massive bejeweled tombstones, giving the city the grandeur of ancient Rome, only more splendid.

“Journeying through illness, galloping across the wilderness in dreams,” Tachibana softly murmured. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Chisei, is it too late for me to be calling? Is it disturbing your rest?”

“No, I’m still working,” Chisei’s voice came through the phone. “What’s up, Dad?”

“I’m handling some things as well, but I had a few minutes to spare and thought I’d call to check on you, and also to ask how Erii is doing.”

“Her condition has stabilized. After she woke up, she ate something, and she no longer needs glucose infusions. This afternoon, she received a package with some of her old toys and a few outfits. She seemed really happy.”

“As long as she’s happy and has come back safe, that’s all that matters,” Tachibana said. “Do you remember the knife I mentioned I was having made for you? The blade is nearly finished. It’s my first self-forged knife, though I didn’t have time to decorate it. I’ve had it sent to you. Make sure to check for it.”

“No problem. Anything else?”

“Nothing. Goodnight,” Tachibana said, hanging up.

Suddenly, the lights went out. The hum of the generator ceased, the ventilation fans stopped, and all the security doors flew open, letting in a blast of wind and rain.

The power had gone out, and the radio tower was suddenly reduced to a lifeless ruin. Cold winds howled through the space, making eerie, laughing sounds. Tachibana’s trench coat fluttered violently in the wind, but his expression remained calm, his eyes glowing in the darkness, and his posture taut like a drawn bow.

“Basara calling Ruri! The power just went out in the underground garage!” Caesar’s voice was hushed. “All the gates have shut down!”

“Ruri here. It’s not just Tokyo Tower; the surrounding streets have gone dark as well. The entire district’s power supply has been cut off,” Ruri replied. “But the lights on the staircase have come on.”

Amidst the pitch-black surroundings, the iron stairs encircling Tokyo Tower lit up. LED lights installed beneath each step glowed with a soft white light, forming a staircase to the heavens.

“It seems we all still maintain the habit of arriving early, even after all these years,” a voice echoed, laced with amusement. The sound came from the tower’s speaker system, loud enough for everyone to hear without any eavesdropping equipment.

“That’s Osho’s voice!” Lu Mingfei whispered.

“Of course, the first to arrive always holds the advantage. People like you and me can never allow the other to take the upper hand,” Tachibana looked around. “This time, I’m late. What have you prepared for me?”

“What else but the best—genuine Red Label vodka, chilled with ice from the far reaches of Siberia. Isn’t that how friendships between men should be? Alcohol that burns through the veins and ice that never melts,” Osho said, the sound of liquid pouring accompanying his words. It wasn’t hard to imagine him pouring strong liquor over the ice.

Tachibana pushed open the security door and ascended the glowing stairs, step by step, towards the special observation deck. He walked steadily, his posture straight and youthful.