The murmur of conversation faded as Hideo Takeda stepped into the center of the ballroom. He moved with the kind of confidence that could not be taught—only earned through years of wielding power. His presence alone commanded the room, and even the wealthiest elites straightened their postures as he raised a champagne flute.
The chandeliers above bathed everything in a golden glow, the light catching the sharp angles of Takeda's face. His silver hair was slicked back, revealing cold, intelligent eyes that missed nothing. A faint smirk played on his lips as he surveyed the room, as if he was amused by the gathering of wolves dressed in silk and Armani.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Takeda's voice cut through the silence, smooth yet edged with the weight of authority, "tonight, we do not simply celebrate luxury, nor do we indulge in excess without meaning." He paused, letting the anticipation settle. "Tonight, we honor power. Ambition. The will to carve one's legacy into the bones of history."
A carefully measured round of applause followed—polite, respectful, but also wary. Every person in this room knew Takeda did not waste words.
Akihiro, holding Mai's hand looked irritated. "Finally," he muttered, voice laced with boredom, "enough of this romance bullshit."
Mai shot him a sharp look. "Could you at least pretend to care?"
Akihiro smirked. "Why? You enjoying playing my loving wife knowing your real husband will never compare to me?"
Mai's glare darkened. " your goddamn ego."
"Jealousy"
The game was moving.
The underground air was sterile, cold. The elevator hummed softly as it descended, the dim overhead light flickering slightly.
Ren and Kaede stood frozen, bodies tense, eyes locked onto the man in the black coat standing before them.
The moment stretched thin—predators sizing each other up.
The man was broad-shouldered, his posture unnervingly relaxed. His dark eyes flickered between them, assessing, calculating.
Kaede's fingers twitched toward her weapon, but Ren didn't move. His gaze was razor-sharp, his body still as a statue.
He had already decided.
This man was a threat. Not security. Something worse.
The silence snapped.
Kaede struck first. Her knife flashed upward, shattering the flickering lightbulb. Glass rained down.
Then—
A suppressed hiss.
Gunfire.
"Shit!"
Ren jerked to the side, dodging the bullet by inches. It embedded itself in the steel wall behind him.
Kaede had already dropped low, moving on instinct.
The elevator was thrown into darkness.
The black-coated man exhaled. Not surprised. He expected this.
Then the elevator lurched.
Emergency lights flickered on, bathing them in an eerie red glow.
A second gunshot hissed through the air.
Ren didn't dodge. He moved forward.
A blur of motion.
His knife sliced forward, a silent execution.
The black-coated man twisted, stepping just out of range—the blade skimmed past his throat by millimeters.
Kaede struck from below, aiming for his knee.
A sharp pivot—he dodged, fluid, effortless. His elbow snapped toward Kaede's ribs.
"Fuck—"
She twisted at the last second, rolling away, barely avoiding the impact.
Ren capitalized on the opening. No hesitation. No wasted movement.
He lunged again, his blade a streak of silver.
Clang.
The man parried with a dagger of his own. Close combat.
The confined space made it awkward. Ren's strikes were **sharp, calculated—**but limited. The elevator walls boxed them in, restricting his full range of motion.
Kaede saw it now.
They weren't losing. They were just fucking handicapped.
If they had space, if they had coordination—this guy would already be dead.
The man smirked. "Not bad."
Ren didn't react. His knife slashed up—aiming for the carotid artery.
The man twisted, dodging—just as Kaede moved.
Her dagger feinted high, but her real target was low.
The man stepped back—but not fast enough.
Kaede's blade sliced across his forearm.
First blood.
The man exhaled, glancing at the cut. Then—
He smiled.
Then the elevator slammed shut.
Kaede's stomach dropped.
A soft hiss.
Gas.
"Shit—"
Ren barely reacted.
His knife lashed out, closing the gap, even as the air thickened with poison.
Kaede felt the burning sensation hit her throat—but only for a second.
Then—she moved.
A kick to the panel. Sparks exploded as the elevator doors slid open—halfway.
She dived out. She realized they had gotten to the underground facility.
"Ren, let's—"
She turned back.
Ren wasn't following.
He was still inside.
Still fighting.
"Ren!"
He didn't care.
His knife clashed against the man's once more, their movements sharp, controlled, deadly—
Then—
The black-coated man smirked. "Game ov—"
Ren ripped the blade across his throat.
The man's eyes widened. A wet, gurgling choke escaped him as blood poured from the gash.
Ren didn't blink.
Didn't react.
Didn't even watch him hit the floor.
He just stepped over the body.
"They know we're here"
Kaede stared. "You—"
Ren walked past her, his breathing barely uneven.
The poison should've been kicking in.
Should've been crippling him.
Instead, he just muttered, "I'm fine."
Kaede wasn't too surprised as they had been trained to withstand positing but as usual ren exceeded more at it like everything, What kind of childhood did the syndicate have to give him to become such a perfect killing machine she wondered.
The alarms shrieked.
Security was coming.
Ren barely glanced at her.
"We're moving. Kill anyone on sight"
Kaede tied her hair.
This wasn't over.
They had a mission to finish.
Now.