CHAPTER 14: THE DEMON LURKS IN THE ALLEY
Kaede Akiyama had seen that look before—the look in Ren Shiroki's eyes.
It was strange. Normally, "Fighters" and "CEOs" were two entirely different breeds of people, even when they collaborated. But Kaede had noticed that the elites of both worlds occasionally shared the same gaze.
Was it pure fighting spirit? Or something more calculated?
"..."
Regardless, her mission was complete. She handed Ren her business card and the dossier on the real estate mogul, then took her leave.
After seeing her out, Ren tucked the documents and the card away.
Come to think of it, he hadn't made much money lately, but his collection of business cards was becoming legendary. Personal cards, corporate cards... he had them all.
Metsudo Katahara.Yukio Tonegawa.The Teiai Group.Fusui Kure.Kaede Akiyama.The Nogi Group.
The first two alone were worth their weight in gold. If he flashed them in the business world, they'd cause a literal earthquake.
"I should probably buy a cardholder at this rate."
The dossier provided by Kaede detailed the recent movements of a man named Dairoku Kujo, a real estate tycoon with a nasty reputation.
In the underworld, delay only breeds complication. Nightmares grow longer the more you wait. So, the very next evening, Ren set out.
Arisa wanted to come along, but Ren was firm. This wasn't a "comeback match" in a backyard; this was a plunge into the unknown. The danger level was exponentially higher.
"Onii-chan..."
Arisa watched him as he stood by the door. she wanted to tell him to be careful, but she didn't want to nag. After thinking for a moment, she tried to keep her voice light.
"What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?"
It was her way of telling him: You'd better come home safe.
Ren gave a cheerful wave. "Rice, tamagoyaki, and miso soup."
"Got it!" Arisa waved back vigorously until her brother rounded the corner and vanished into the city.
Ren's destination was an underground casino in the heart of Shinjuku.
Unlike the Zanshi-gumi's amateur "shack," this place was run by professionals. Rumor had it that even high-ranking police officials were on the payroll to keep it secure. The Zanshi-gumi's place was a crude imitation; this was the real "Black Industry."
The interior was lavish. The floors were polished red and white marble, gleaming under soft lighting. There was a full bar, plush seating, and every gambling machine imaginable: Poker, Roulette, Mahjong, and Pachinko. The dealers were sharp, and the waitresses wore sleek bunny-girl outfits.
The clientele wasn't composed of street thugs or bikers. These were high-stakes gamblers, wealthy "salarymen" in expensive suits, and socialites.
Ren stood in the middle of it all, empty-handed and dressed simply. He looked out of place.
According to the Nogi Group's intel, Dairoku Kujo was a regular here. But how to find one man in a place like this was the real challenge.
"..."
As he scanned the room, Ren felt a familiar "scent."
It was like catching a whiff of a specific flower—an instinctual pull. He followed the feeling until he reached a table for Cho-Han.
There, surrounded by a crowd, sat a middle-aged man in a striped suit with silver-white hair and piercingly clear eyes.
Shigeru Akagi.
The "Deity of the Realm" whom he had met just a few days ago was sitting right there. Was he here for fun? Or on business?
The answer didn't matter. As the saying goes: "Demons roam the alleys, and demons love the taste of bone."
A gambler with Akagi's otherworldly talent was bound to turn up wherever the stakes were high.
"...Oh?"
Akagi glanced up and spotted Ren in the crowd. He gave a faint, cool smile. "Ren-kun? What a coincidence to see you here."
"Akagi-san."
Ren squeezed through the crowd to stand beside him. He noticed that everyone was fixated on this specific table, drawn by the invisible gravitational pull of the man with the silver hair.
Looking at the table, Ren understood why.
Even-Odd dice was a simple game, but when the "Abnormal" happens in a "Normal" game, it becomes a spectacle. Akagi's side of the table was buried in a mountain of chips. He had clearly been on a winning streak that defied the laws of probability.
There were three dealers standing by the table—meaning two had already been rotated out, unable to break Akagi's momentum.
A junior dealer ran up and whispered to the Floor Manager: "We checked the cameras. He's not cheating. No magnets, no loaded dice. It's clean."
"Tch..."
The Manager's face was pale. He whispered something back, and the junior dealer hurried away. Having made his preparations, the Manager turned to Akagi and whispered a plea.
"Listen, friend. We have no grudge against you. But there's no need to bankrupt our house's bankroll in one night, right?"
"Hmm?"
Akagi looked genuinely surprised. "I wasn't aware this was a 'charity' casino that protected its house from losing. I thought this was a place for gambling."
"Haha..." The Manager's laugh was hollow and dry.
In an underground casino, people went bankrupt every hour. But a player clearing out a house's entire float? That was unheard of. If the Manager allowed this to continue, he wouldn't just lose his job; he'd likely lose his life to the syndicate that owned the place.
"Friend, let's make a deal," the Manager whispered, leaning in. "Next round, bet half your chips—just half. We'll play a 'fair' round. You lose that half, and we let you walk out with the rest. How about it?"
It was a blatant demand for a fix. The house wanted Akagi to take a dive to cut their losses.
Without waiting for an answer, the Manager began rattling the dice cup.
Akagi didn't even blink. He pushed his entire mountain of chips—all of them—onto the "Even" square. All-in.
The Manager, sweating buckets, peeked under the rim of the cup. A three and a five. Total: Eight. Even.
Akagi had won. Again.
"Friend..."
The Manager's face turned a sickly shade of green. "The cup isn't open yet. You can still change your mind. Why don't you reconsider?"
Akagi's voice was like ice. "Even."
As they spoke, a commotion broke out behind them. Several Yakuza enforcers pushed through the crowd, led by the junior dealer from earlier. It was clear the Manager had decided that if he couldn't convince Akagi with words, he'd use lead pipes.
Akagi ignored them entirely. He kept his eyes on the table and tapped the wood with a finger.
"Even. Open it."
That final response caused the Manager's face to twist with malice. He signaled the thugs to move in and "handle" the problem.
But as the first thug reached out to grab Akagi's shoulder, a hand caught his wrist mid-air.
"Eh?!"
Before the thug could process what was happening, he felt a jolt of white-hot agony. Ren Shiroki had caught him. With a casual twist of his arm, Ren dislocated the man's wrist, pinning his hand back against his own forearm.
The three other Yakuza lunged at Ren. They were unarmed, and compared to a Kengan fighter, they moved in slow motion. Ren didn't even feel the need to dodge.
Chop! A hand-blade strike to the first man's throat.
Crack! A spinning elbow to the second man's nose.
Hiss! He caught the third man in a lightning-fast rear-naked choke, putting him to sleep in seconds.
The entire sequence was a masterpiece of efficiency—fluid, professional, and terrifying. The crowd, who had been cheering for Akagi's luck, were now staring in awe at Ren's violence.
The Floor Manager, seeing his backup dismantled, prepared to rush Ren in a desperate "suicide" charge. But before he could take a step, a heavy fist slammed into his jaw.
BANG!
The Manager crumpled to the floor, out cold.
The person who hit him was the casino's Head of Security. He was a professional.
In a high-end underground casino, "House Ethics" mattered. If word got out that they cheated or threatened players who won fairly, the high-rollers would never return. The business would die.
"Our sincerest apologies for the unprofessionalism of our staff," the Security Head said, giving a deep bow to Akagi and Ren. He began to offer reparations and complimentary services, but the two men brushed it off.
Ren was still looking for his target. Akagi didn't care about the money.
"Hoo..."
Akagi lit a cigarette and sighed. "I was just out for a walk and felt a spark of interest. It ended up being a boring game, after all. But seeing a friend again... that's a nice bonus."
Ren smiled. Having a legendary gambler by his side made him feel a lot more relaxed. He was about to suggest getting a drink when a small, elderly man nearby spoke up.
"My, my. Casinos these days have no class at all. If you truly want to make money, you need a one-on-one match. But finding a worthy opponent is so difficult, isn't it?"
Ren and Akagi turned toward the voice.
The old man was smiling warmly, looking like a kindly grandfather. He gave a polite nod.
"A pleasure to meet you. My name is Dairoku Kujo. Would you gentlemen care for a private game?"