In the courtyard, the evening breeze stirred the wind chimes under the veranda, producing a string of clear, pleasant sounds—like the prelude to a romance.
Meanwhile, somewhere unknown, in some underground corner, Iori Yagami—currently digesting his Blood of Madness—suddenly shivered for no reason.
He frowned, purple flames flickering at his fingertips.
"Just my imagination? Why do I feel like... something important is about to be stolen?"
Night. Tokyo Shinjuku. Kabukicho.
This was a crucible of desire, an ocean of neon lights.
The air was thick with alcohol, perfume, and hormones. Behind every flickering sign could lurk a bottomless story—or a bottomless bill.
Cloud currently stood on a building's rooftop, overlooking this land where sin and prosperity intertwined.
He wore a well-tailored black casual suit that made him look like an idol who'd just debuted as center in some top boy band.
But he wasn't here for a photoshoot. He was here to "recruit."
Behind him stood someone who could be called a walking mafia godfather—Mr. Big.
This uncrowned king of South Town's underworld now had influence spanning half the globe.
At this moment, he was meticulously adjusting the cuffs of his seven-figure custom suit. That perpetually stoic face showed no emotion, but just standing there seemed to drop the surrounding air temperature by three degrees.
Two bodyguards like iron towers, wearing sunglasses and matching suits, stood behind him like door gods—radiating "professional" and "keep away."
"Mr. Cloud, according to intelligence, the target is in that club called 'Paradise Lost' down below," Mr. Big said respectfully in a lowered voice.
"Paradise Lost? That's pretty chuuni." Cloud quipped, fishing a lollipop from his pocket and popping it in his mouth. "Let's go meet our future... outstanding employee."
Mr. Big bowed slightly, making an "after you" gesture with the deference of a butler.
If those mob bosses who didn't dare breathe loudly in Mr. Big's presence saw this scene, their eyes would probably fall out of their heads.
Their idol was being so respectful to a young man who looked like a college student?
Had the world gone fantasy? Or were they hallucinating from hitting their heads?
That's right—Mr. Big, once one of South Town's Big Three alongside Geese Howard and Krauser, was now Cloud's personally-cultivated underground agent.
In trendy terms, Cloud was his "angel investor" and "board chairman," while Mr. Big was the diligent "gold-medal CEO" building the empire for the boss.
And their target today was none other than Hakkesshu member Ryuji Yamazaki—the one who only wanted to play yakuza.
...
The "Paradise Lost" club was less a club and more a massive underground fighting pit.
Ear-splitting heavy metal music mixed with the crowd's frenzied screaming and betting calls, nearly tearing off the ceiling.
In the central octagon, the smell of blood and sweat intermingled as two muscular men engaged in the most primal hand-to-hand combat.
The appearance of Cloud, Mr. Big, and their entourage was like pouring cold water into a sizzling oil pan.
Mr. Big's powerful aura made the surrounding chaos pause.
Those gang members tattooed with dragons, tigers, and leopards—looking fierce as demons—instinctively restrained their fervor when they saw Mr. Big and his two "refrigerator-sized" bodyguards, parting to create a path.
They might not recognize Mr. Big, but they could sense this was a "big shot" they couldn't afford to provoke.
"Well, well, if it isn't the big shot from South Town—Mr. Big himself!"
An arrogant, manic, slightly raspy voice came from the direction of the octagon, instantly drowning out all the noise.
Everyone looked toward the voice. Standing there was a man in a single-strap overall, with messy golden hair and a psychotic smile, one foot planted on the chest of the opponent he'd just KO'd.
He extended his abnormally long tongue and licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, his gaze like a man-eating viper.
It was Ryuji Yamazaki.
"Yamazaki-kun, long time no see. Your business is still so... full of vitality." Mr. Big responded expressionlessly, as if the bloody scene before him was just an ordinary stage play.
"Vitality? Hahaha!" Yamazaki burst into wild laughter, sharp and piercing. "I call it cleaning up society's trash! But you, Mr. Big—instead of playing emperor in the Americas, you've come to my little Tokyo. Looking to expand? Fair warning: my toll fees are very expensive!"
As he spoke, his left hand in his pants pocket shifted.
It was naked intimidation.
Facing this unpredictable madman who might attack at any provocation, Mr. Big remained calm and collected.
He stepped slightly aside, completely exposing Cloud to Yamazaki's line of sight.
"I'm not here for myself today. I'm here to introduce you to someone... a truly important person."
Yamazaki's gaze fell on Cloud.
He looked Cloud up and down, the madness in his eyes gradually being replaced by contempt and disdain.
"Isn't this the famous KOF champion, Mr. Cloud? Heh, sounds impressive. But that stuff means nothing to me." He curled his lip. "Fighting tournaments are just kids playing house. What I, Ryuji Yamazaki, pursue is something more substantial."
Cloud didn't get angry. Instead, he studied Yamazaki with interest, crunching the lollipop in his mouth with a crack.
Mr. Big took a small step forward, positioning himself between Cloud and Yamazaki.
...
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