CHAPTER 15: Q-TARO
Ren Shiroki and Shigeru Akagi turned toward the voice.
It was a small, elderly man. He had a thin, neatly trimmed mustache and sparse hair. He wore a checkered suit that looked slightly out of fashion and leaned on a polished wooden cane. He was smiling, his eyes squinting behind deep-set wrinkles and heavy eye bags.
"That even-odd game just now was spectacular!"
The old man was generous with his praise, clapping his hands together before his tone shifted. "But if you're looking to keep that winning streak going, I'm afraid you'll find it difficult here."
"Even in an underground casino, the house always wins eventually. The more you gamble against the 'Dealer,' the more the math works against you... Am I right?"
The old man's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Ah, forgive me for intruding so suddenly. But my thoughts are the same as yours—gambling is far more interesting when it's one-on-one. That's where the real money is."
"What do you say? We all seem to be kindred spirits..."
The old man prattled on, extending a private invitation to a high-stakes game.
Akagi didn't answer immediately. He took a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes drifting downward as he muttered to himself, "There's a heavy scent of blood here—different from the 'purity' of your fights, Ren-kun. This is the scent of pure malice."
He looked up at the old man. "My apologies. Might I ask your name?"
"Dairoku Kujo."
The old man repeated his name with a chuckle, then added a self-deprecating nickname. "A bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Most people just call me Q-Taro."
"Hmm..." Akagi turned to Ren. "Ren-kun, I believe this is the man you were looking for."
"Oh?" Q-Taro's eyebrows twitched with surprise.
Ren pulled the photo from his pocket, compared it to the man in front of him, and nodded.
Dairoku Kujo—alias Q-Taro. He was exactly the "mogul" the Nogi Group had sent him to find.
"A pleasure, old man," Ren said, stepping forward. "The Nogi Group sent me to have a word with you."
Q-Taro paused, a flicker of calculation crossing his eyes before he erupted into hearty laughter.
"Ka—hahaha! I see! I saw you looking around and thought you were looking for a table with better odds. I had no idea you were looking for me."
"What a coincidence! But don't worry, I'm not the type to dodge a debt or a conversation."
Q-Taro gestured toward the exit with grand hospitality. "It's a bit noisy here for a business talk. I own a real estate building nearby—an abandoned luxury tower. Why don't we head there to discuss the details over a private game?"
His attitude was perfect. He looked like a cooperative, friendly businessman, not a "deadbeat."
But as Ren's "Mental Overdrive" kicked in, memories of a dark story resurfaced. This Q-Taro wasn't a friendly old man. He was a "Demon" who lured gamblers into his private building to murder them for sport!
He was an "Evil" far deeper and more bloodthirsty than any common casino.
"The Nogi Group sure picked a hell of a mission for me..."
Ren didn't blame Akiyama. As she had warned him, he was the one who chose to jump into the furnace. If he wanted safe money, he could have signed with a legitimate Dojo. But Ren felt it in his bones: if he chose the "safe" path, he would never see those Street Fighter phantoms again.
To truly understand "Strength," he couldn't just face the "Good." He had to face the "Evil" head-on.
Before Ren could give his answer, Akagi spoke up first.
"Fine. Let's do that," Akagi said tonelessly.
The sudden agreement surprised both Q-Taro and Ren. They weren't sure what Akagi was playing at.
"Hey, why is everyone looking at me? Did you not understand?"
Akagi looked at Q-Taro with a flat gaze. "I'm talking about the game. Your building. One-on-one. I don't mind playing a round or two."
Ren didn't know what Akagi had seen in that split second, but he had no reason to stop him. As for Q-Taro, he was delighted. A "Buy One, Get One Free" deal on high-quality prey was a rare treat.
As the three prepared to leave, a young man, smelling strongly of expensive wine, stumbled over to them.
"Oi, oi! Did I hear someone talking about an 'interesting game'?"
The youth slung an arm around Q-Taro's shoulder, laughing with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I heard it! A private, one-on-one high-stakes match! My favorite!"
The three of them turned to inspect the intruder.
He had wild, curly white hair that looked soft to the touch. His eyes were large and bright, filled with a sharp, mischievous intelligence. Despite the smell of alcohol, his face was striking, with long eyelashes that gave him a model-like, almost ethereal quality.
He was lean and dressed in a stylish, casual-fit striped suit.
Behind him, a black-haired young man with a buzz cut ran over, looking mortified. "Baku-san! Please, don't just bother random people like that!"
"It's fine, Kaji-kun! Opportunity only knocks if you kick the door down!"
The youth, addressed as Baku, ignored his companion and stayed glued to Q-Taro. He then gestured toward Akagi and Ren, making a shamelessly bold suggestion. "Look at these guys—they look boring. Forget them! Let's have a private match, just you and me, old-timer. What do you say?"
"Heh... haha."
Q-Taro hadn't expected to find so many "delicacies" in one night. It was almost too much of a good thing.
But since Ren was connected to the Nogi Group, he had to be prioritized. As for this "Baku" character, he could always save him for dessert later.
Q-Taro put on a mask of helpless frustration and looked at Akagi. "My, it seems we've been caught by a drunkard. Should I call the security guards?"
Akagi looked at "Baku." Their eyes met for a heartbeat—a clash of two different types of genius—before both looked away.
Akagi smiled thinly. "Sure. Getting caught by a troublesome person is always such a 'trouble.' And I hate trouble more than anything..."
Baku's drunken grin didn't falter. He shifted his arm and draped it over Akagi's shoulder instead.
"Mr. Silver-hair... you're a liar, aren't you?"
Baku's voice dropped. The drunken slur remained, but the tone was suddenly, chillingly calm. "I can see it. You aren't the type of man who fears trouble at all. In fact... you live for it."
"..."
Akagi blew a cloud of smoke, neither confirming nor denying.
Baku's gaze shifted from Akagi to Ren.
When their eyes met, Baku's grin twitched. His smile became a little forced.
"What is with this city tonight? How many 'monsters' can fit in one casino?"
Ren, however, had already recognized the face in front of him.
This was Madarame Baku. Alias: The Lie Eater.
In the original story, he was supposed to be the undisputed protagonist of this gambling den. But tonight, the stage was getting crowded.
Minutes later, the bar where the five men had been standing was empty.
A bartender looked over, confused. "That's weird. Where did that group go? The old guy, the two silver-haired guys, and the tall one?"
"Oh—them?" a nearby gambler replied, not looking up from his cards. "They left with that old-timer. The one with the cane."
The bartender sighed. "That old guy 'Q' took more customers? Man... he acts like this casino is his personal recruitment office."
"Come to think of it," the gambler muttered, finally pausing. "None of the guys that old-timer takes away ever seem to come back. I wonder where they go to party?"