Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 181: Girl with Sandalwood Scent (13)

Dragon Raja 3

The boys kicked the door open, and at the last moment before it opened, Caesar silently flattened himself to the ground. In the harsh light, Lu Mingfei and Makoto were revealed, but the boys strode forward without noticing the person lying right at their feet.

Any flashlight’s beam is cone-shaped. While it can illuminate a hallway, it often leaves the area directly in front of the user in shadow.

Caesar suddenly reached out, grabbing the ankles of both boys. They lost their balance and stumbled forward. Though they were bōsōzoku and quick on their feet, they instinctively raised their short-barreled shotguns as they fell. But Caesar wasn’t about to let them fire. His fists shot out, delivering a powerful blow to their abdomens, targeting their stomachs and diaphragms. The intense, nerve-racking pain caused them to instantly lose their breath, forcing them to remain silent. Their shotguns clattered to the ground, and Caesar swiftly tucked both into his belt. Then, with a sharp uppercut, the sound of bones cracking filled the air, as he broke their jaws, causing concussions. He held both unconscious boys tightly, gently lowering them to the floor without making a sound.

It was a perfect ambush, textbook-worthy by Cassell College’s tactical standards—no unnecessary noise from start to finish. Caesar smiled to himself, satisfied. But then, disaster struck. One of the boys, who should have been unconscious, suddenly jumped up, clutching his shattered jaw, and ran toward the exit.

He had remained conscious despite the heavy blow! Caesar had no choice. He drew his Desert Eagle, wrapped his jacket around the gun, and lunged forward, pressing the muzzle to the boy’s back and firing. He only had one bullet—one Frigg tranquilizer round meant for a critical moment. Perhaps this was it. The muzzle flash burned the boy’s back, and within moments, the tranquilizer entered his bloodstream, knocking him out. Caesar caught the boy before he hit the ground and gently lowered him. He drew the two shotguns again, pointing them down the corridor. Despite muffling the gun with his jacket, the Desert Eagle’s power was too strong—the sound was like a heavy object hitting the floor. Caesar wasn’t sure if the bōsōzoku in the lobby had heard it.

Among the careless laughter of the boys in the distance, Caesar could hear the cries and pleas of the girls. He listened carefully, frowning deeply. After a few tense seconds, his hands slowly lowered, the barrels of the shotguns touching the ground. Though he hated hearing the girls being abused, their cries had helped cover their actions.

Makoto trembled in fear. Not long ago, she had reassured herself that Caesar wasn’t the kind of criminal described in the wanted posters. Yet, here she was, watching him press a gun against a boy’s back and fire with ruthless efficiency, like a beast sinking its claws into its prey’s heart.

Caesar grabbed Makoto’s hand and pressed it against the boy’s neck. “It may look like a lethal shot, but it’s actually a tranquilizer round. Don’t be scared.”

Makoto felt the steady pulse under her fingers, and her pale face regained some color. She nodded vigorously. “I knew Mr. Gattuso was a good person!”

Lu Mingfei, watching from the side, muttered, “Tch!”

While it was true that the Frigg round wasn’t fatal, Caesar didn’t bother having Makoto check the condition of the two boys with broken jaws… If they didn’t get top-notch surgery from an orthopedic specialist, they’d likely end up with entirely plastic jaws.

Except for Pompeii, who always resolved issues with charm, the rest of the Gattuso family never hesitated to use violence. Caesar was in a foul mood, the girls’ cries getting on his nerves, but all he could do was crawl along the walls like a rat. As a result, his strikes became heavier naturally. He stripped off the jacket covered in silver chains from the unconscious bōsōzoku and threw it over his own shoulders, then swapped his shoes for a pair of brown Martens boots. Unfortunately, he had to abandon the shoes Makoto had carefully polished. All the bōsōzoku wore heavy Martens boots with steel-toed soles, and a pair of shiny leather shoes would only make him stand out. As for his hair, the filthy and tangled blond locks were perfect for the bōsōzoku’s aesthetic. He simply tied it into a ponytail at the back—just messy enough to blend in.

“Boss, are you trying to blend in and sneak out?” Lu Mingfei finally caught on.

“We still need to find you some clothes as well,” Caesar said, glancing at the bōsōzoku kid he had shot with the Frigg tranquilizer. The white lambskin coat had a bloody stain and a bullet hole, making it impossible to use as a disguise.

Caesar turned to Lu Mingfei. “Makoto, do you have another uniform like yours? Height about 1.7 meters, waist around 21 inches?”

Makoto thought for a moment and then clapped her hands. “Actually, Mingfei can wear mine!”

“I didn’t realize you were so tall,” Caesar said, looking her over.

“They always said in middle school that I was destined to marry an athlete.” She straightened her posture, standing tall in her heels. Indeed, she was over 1.7 meters, but she often kept her head down in Caesar’s presence, making her height less noticeable.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! Shouldn’t you ask for my opinion first? Why me and not the boss? I can’t walk in high heels!” Lu Mingfei quickly protested.

“Have you ever worn them?” Caesar asked coolly.

“Of course not! Do I look like someone who cross-dresses?” Lu Mingfei shot back, glaring.

“Then how do you know you can’t walk in them?” Caesar grabbed Lu Mingfei by the collar and dragged him into an empty room. “Besides, you’re about to become a cross-dresser!”

The two unconscious bōsōzoku were also dragged in. Just as the door slid shut, heavy footsteps approached from down the hall. A large group of bōsōzoku passed by, cocking their shotguns as they went, clearly eager to try them out on someone. Lu Mingfei trembled slightly in fear. These were real, ruthless criminals—people who could kill for the thrill of it. If they noticed the bloodstains on the floor, they might blast through the door with their shotguns. Hundreds of lead pellets would tear through the air, and getting hit at close range would leave nothing recognizable. He finally understood why the college offered free body transportation services—it wasn’t just lip service. The school really had their students’ well-being in mind, making sure they were well prepared for any unfortunate “repatriation.”

“Take off your clothes!” Caesar commanded, standing with guns ready, keeping an eye on the door.

“And what about Miss Makoto?” Lu Mingfei muttered as he started unbuttoning his shirt.

He had a bad habit of cracking jokes when he was nervous. The more anxious he felt, the more he laughed and made awkward comments. It was a coping mechanism, a way to stay calm. He once had to get daily penicillin shots for a bad cold and was terrified of needles. But even as the nurse applied iodine to his backside, he’d stammer, “Nurse, let me tell you a joke about a spider wanting to marry a bee. The spider asks its mother why it has to marry a bee, and the spider’s mom says, ‘Well, she’s a bit talkative, but at least she’s a flight attendant!’ The spider says, ‘But I prefer mosquitoes.’ The mom replies, ‘Don’t even mention that little nurse. Last time she gave me an injection, I got swollen like a balloon!’” The nurse would giggle, and the needle would snap mid-injection.

“Quit joking and strip! Pants too!” Caesar barked.

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