Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 223: Men’s Flower Arrangement (6)

Dragon Raja 3

“Damn, a cross-dressing fat guy is that impressive?” Lu Mingfei’s eyes widened.

“In short, there are no weaklings among the hosts at Takamagahara. Each one has thousands of admirers and hundreds of clients willing to pay regularly just to spend time with them. That’s why Takamagahara has the strictest screening process among host clubs. Every host must go through a probationary period, during which they need to stand out and have enough clients willing to buy flower tickets for them to stay. After that, they must pass the manager’s interview, proving that they are perfect men inside and out,” Caesar said. “Chu Zihang and I are gathering flower tickets quickly—I’ve got 925, and Chu Zihang has 900.”

“How many is enough?”

“Eight hundred in two weeks. After that, Chu Zihang and I will be scheduled for interviews. Once we pass, we’ll officially become hosts.” Caesar exhaled a puff of smoke. “We should be fine, judging by our popularity.”

“And you’re proud of that? This is nothing to brag about!” Lu Mingfei said angrily. “Didn’t you say that people from the Gattuso family never live to please anyone?”

“Women are the exception. Pleasing women isn’t shameful; you must treat them as angels, regardless of their looks. It’s a basic rule you need to learn before entering high society.” Caesar spread his hands.

“The problem is that in high society, there aren’t rich, beautiful women scheming to get in your pants! Here, you can’t be so sure! We’re basically selling ourselves, and what if some drunk women want us to do both shows and ‘services’?” Lu Mingfei worried. “What about my twenty years of chastity?”

“Who said there aren’t rich, beautiful women trying to get in my pants?” Caesar raised his eyebrows, looking proud.

“Stop! That’s not the point! Why on earth are we hiding in a host club? How did we even end up here? This plot twist is insane! If our lives were a novel, the author would have zero boundaries!”

“You don’t remember what happened after you got shot that night. Chu Zihang and I hijacked a motorcycle to find a clinic to treat your gunshot wound, but everywhere we went, both large hospitals and small clinics had police cars parked outside. The Yamata no Orochi must have tipped off the police, and they were guarding the entire route from Chizuru Town to Tokyo. We had no choice but to keep going, avoiding checkpoints, and finally realized we’d stumbled into Shinjuku. We had no idea what to do when we saw an advertising truck parked on the street with slogans like ‘Men’s Parade, Women’s Heaven’ painted all over it. The guy handing out flyers warmly greeted us and asked if we needed help. We were desperate, so we told him we were foreign stowaways, and our friend had been hurt by the yakuza. We asked if he could help us find a clinic. The guy was super enthusiastic and said he could take us to his shop to rest and call a doctor. So, we got into the truck and came to Takamagahara.”

Thinking back to that night felt almost like a fairy tale. By the time they reached Mambo Internet Café, Caesar and Chu Zihang were exhausted. After all the fighting and running, they were barely holding on. When the motorcycle crested a hill and the bright lights of Shinjuku came into view, they were stunned. They had somehow made it back to the heart of Yamata no Orochi’s territory. Since the Edo period, Shinjuku had been their capital, and here, the police had less power than the local gangs. They were trapped—either they rushed into the enemy’s den or turned back toward the barricaded Chizuru Town. Just then, they saw the brightly lit advertising truck with fairy lights draped all over it. A loudspeaker on the roof played soothing music, and a magnetic male voice announced an advertisement they didn’t understand. Young men in flamboyant clothes handed out discount vouchers and candies at the front and back of the truck. It was like mountain climbers, weary and parched, suddenly stumbling upon a brightly lit inn, with a large pot of simmering beef on the stove. In that moment, the Takamagahara advertising truck was the most beautiful sight they had ever seen.

“Later, we found out it was a host club. But the people here kept their word; they immediately called a doctor to treat your wound. Then the manager came out to talk to us, saying he saw potential in me and Chu Zihang, and he invited us to intern at the club. He even said not having ID wasn’t a problem. Takamagahara is a well-known, law-abiding nightclub in the Shinjuku area, and the police never come here. If we agreed to become trainee hosts, we would be given protection.” Caesar continued.

“They’re obviously just interested in your good looks! But what does that have to do with me? Just treat me like a wounded guest and don’t drag me into this!” Lu Mingfei grimaced.

“No, no. The manager seemed pretty excited after looking at you too. What was his comment about Lu Mingfei again, Chu Zihang?”

“A rare and delicate treasure,” Chu Zihang said each word clearly.

“That’s disgusting, but I don’t even have anything in my stomach to throw up!” Lu Mingfei covered his face. “Did it ever occur to you that this place might be in cahoots with Yamata no Orochi and they brought us here to trap us?”

“We suspected that at first, but it’s been a few days now. They’ve had plenty of time to inform Yamata no Orochi to come and get us, but nothing has happened. Running into them was just a coincidence. Yamata no Orochi couldn’t have predicted we’d come back to Shinjuku on that particular route, so there’s no way they planted the truck there to capture us.” Caesar replied. “At least for now, this host club is the safest place we’ve found. They provide free room and board, pay weekly, and we get a 10% commission on every bottle a guest orders. I’ve already made hundreds of thousands of yen in the past three days.”

“Would the young master of the Gattuso family be tempted by a few hundred thousand yen? You wouldn’t even bend down to pick up that kind of money if it fell on the ground!”

“That’s different. I wouldn’t bother with family money, but this is my own hard-earned income.”

“By the way, how does this work? What if I run into a guest who throws money in my face and demands I sleep with her? Do I call the police?”

“You need to understand how things work in Japan. A host club is just a social venue that provides entertainment and drinking services, so it’s legal. In lower-end host clubs, hosts might engage in illegal transactions with guests privately, but Takamagahara is the ‘top-tier’ of host clubs. The hosts here are like the most elite ‘Tayu’ courtesans—typically, they sell their talents, not their bodies.” Caesar said confidently. “I read a book called The Erotic History of Japan. It said that in the past, Tayu courtesans held very high status. Even if a wealthy noble didn’t mind spending money, it wasn’t easy to meet a Tayu. First, you had to spend lavishly at the shop and show that you were wealthy, handsome, and charismatic. Only then would the shopkeeper issue an invitation for you to have an ‘initial meeting’ with a Tayu. At that point, the Tayu would agree to see you. When she came, she’d be escorted by young boys and girls carrying lanterns, and bodyguards wielding sticks followed behind. The Tayu would wear a twenty-kilogram outfit and walk on wooden clogs half a foot high, with a peculiar gait. She’d cross the entire street to meet you, and all the men on the street would come out to watch, thinking you were the man among men. They’d envy and admire you.”

“Damn, it’s like your girl picking you up in a Ferrari to take you to the movies!” At that, Lu Mingfei felt a slight pang in his heart—yeah, that red Ferrari… Everyone is both envious and jealous of you.

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