Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 301: Second Son of Gen Family (4)

Dragon Raja 3

“I’m so touched! I’ve been to the bar in Osaka where you appeared! Could I have one of your cards later?” The fat woman was overwhelmed with joy.

It was said that of the women lucky enough to encounter Master Kazama, only a mere 10% had the chance to taste his homemade breakfast.

“Of course, since we’re fortunate to meet here,” Ruri smiled, “Mr. Whale is our witness.”

He found some cocoa powder, milk, eggs, and instant noodles in the fridge near the bar.

“The ingredients are too simple! Quick, go to the basement freezer and bring up the fresh fish and Koshihikari rice from yesterday… No! Bring the entire kitchen here! Master Kazama is going to demonstrate his cooking skills!” Whale bellowed.

“There’s no need. Actually, I’m not really good at making any proper breakfast; those are just rumors. I can only fry eggs,” Ruri rolled up his sleeves, “My brother taught me how to fry eggs.”

He skillfully turned on the induction stove and coffee machine. While frying the eggs, he mixed the milk and cocoa powder and poured it into the blender. He also found half a fresh matsutake and two shiitake mushrooms in the fridge, diced them, and spread them over the eggs. Once the water boiled, he used a ladle to cook the instant noodles quickly. The golden noodles were poured into a bowl, seasoned with seafood soy sauce and scallions, with the matsutake egg placed on top. The hot cocoa milk was also ready. In less than ten minutes, the breakfast was served on a tray and placed in front of the fat woman.

“The ingredients are incomplete, so please make do,” Ruri apologized.

The fat woman took a bite of the fried egg and silently shed tears. The egg was perfectly cooked, with a faint scent of matsutake. It wasn’t so delicious that it would make one cry, but just knowing she was eating a breakfast made by Master Kazama, something thousands of women dreamed of, made her feel like her life was complete. She no longer remembered anything about apologies; all her resentment disappeared like clouds. Her heart was filled with a pink glow, longing for Ruri to speak to her a bit more, smile a bit more, or best of all, take a photo together as a keepsake.

Ruri sipped coffee as he watched her eat, his smile calm. In the morning light, the fine hairs on his face were visible, and his skin seemed almost transparent.

Caesar’s face was filled with dark lines. In the span of 24 hours, he had been dealt one blow after another: first, he had to admit the existence of a super Hybrid stronger than him, and now he had to admit there was a legendary host whose charm surpassed his own.

“Master Kazama, your visit to our humble establishment—what teachings do you bring us?” Whale rubbed his hands together.

“I’ve heard about the elegance of Basara King, Ukyo, and Sakura, and I’ve been eager to meet all of you. This time, I’ve come to invite you all to attend my kabuki performance tomorrow night.” Ruri presented the bouquet of tulips to Caesar.

Tucked within the bouquet was a plain envelope, and inside it were three simple invitations. Each invitation had a sketch of a character: one was a woman standing beneath the sun, another was a woman soaring beneath a cold moon, and the third was a man with a skull mask holding an unusually long blade. Though the drawings were hastily done with ink, the spirit and essence of the characters seemed to leap off the page. The invitations were not signed by Ruri, but instead bore the name “Gen Chime,” though it was obviously written in Ruri’s own handwriting.

Caesar found these three figures vaguely familiar but couldn’t quite place where he had seen them. He instinctively looked a few more times… then his pupils suddenly dilated, and he sharply raised his eyes to look at Ruri. Yes, he had seen these three figures before—just last night, on those ancient murals. One of the murals depicted a grand funeral, with a sun priestess and a moon priestess worshiping on either side of a giant golden skull, while a skull-masked male priest plunged a long blade into the skull’s brow. Although the murals were crafted from colorful mineral powders and gold, exuding an ancient and vibrant aura, Ruri’s ink-drawn style was minimalist and expressive. Yet, the energy of the figures was identical, and someone who hadn’t seen those murals would never have been able to draw such images.

Caesar stared intently into Ruri’s eyes. At first glance, they appeared clear and captivating, but upon closer inspection, they resembled deep pools of water—though transparent, they were far too deep, and gazing into their depths revealed an abyss of darkness.

“Pleased to meet you,” Ruri said in a voice only Caesar could hear, “my true name is Gen Chime, second son of the Gen family. Chisei is my older brother.”

“I look forward to seeing all three of you at the performance,” Ruri—or rather, Chime—raised his voice, bowed deeply, and took his leave. He turned and walked toward the entrance, where a black Rolls-Royce silently glided to a stop. The driver opened the door for him.

Caesar flipped the envelope containing the invitations over. On the corner was a small seal, depicting an abstract dragon and the Chinese character for “Ghost.” Although Caesar wasn’t entirely familiar with the structure of Japan’s underworld, he recognized this as the emblem of the mysterious organization, the “Oni Clan.” If present-day Japan were a chaotic chessboard, then the most hidden piece in this game had finally revealed itself. That the Oni Clan would choose such a bold and open method of appearance surprised Caesar. He had many questions for Ruri, but keeping him here for questioning at this moment didn’t seem like the best approach. Those questions could wait until after tomorrow night’s performance.

Ruri dared to come alone, so Caesar and Chu Zihang would also dare to meet him.

“There’s a phone call for Basara King. The voice sounds like it could be Sakura,” said Fujiwara Kansuke, holding out the receiver.

Caesar took the phone, “It’s me. You’re not dead?”

“Just barely,” Lu Mingfei’s sly voice replied, “but let’s not talk about that now. I’m sending you an address. You and senior brother get a cab and come over right away. Don’t ask why, and don’t tell anyone. Just come take a look, and you’ll understand!”

The address led them to a five-story building on the outskirts of Shinjuku, with some history behind it. The sign read, Capsule Hotel.

It was one of those so-called capsule hotels—cheap, with rooms only slightly larger than coffins, just enough space for one person to lie down. Taller people would even bump their heads when trying to sit up. Yet now, three people were crammed into one of these tiny capsule rooms: Lu Mingfei, Caesar, and Chu Zihang.

When the three of them approached the front desk to request “one room for three people,” the landlady gave them a suspicious and almost disdainful look, sighed deeply, and threw them the key.

“Hey, hey, hey! Boss, your elbow’s poking me! Look at the girls all you want, but don’t get so handsy about it!”

“Could you two get off my lap?”