Chapter 6: So This Is Who You Really Are...

Ring. This live house located in Ikebukuro, Tokyo, can be considered the largest of its kind in the city. In this current era of girl bands, it holds a pivotal position.

From the outside, it resembles a trendy department store, with morning sunlight flowing across its black glass curtain walls. The interior features a brand-new apartment-style aesthetic; in addition to a multitude of performance halls and recording studios, there are shops selling musical instruments and even a café for resting. Nowadays, high school girls love to stop by and check in here after school.

Soyo Nagasaki woke up extremely early today. Almost as soon as Ring opened in the morning, she took the train to visit.

Sakiko Togawa, who had been silent for so long, finally replied last night. However, Sakiko did not specify when she would be coming today, and her repeated follow-up messages remained unread.

To ensure she wouldn't miss her, Soyo naturally woke up early; she intended to stay at Ring for the entire day.

However, the moment she stepped inside, the scene before her halted her steps. Her breath caught, and she nervously gripped the strap of her handbag.

Standing in front of the reception desk were two uninvited guests. The one on the left was taller, with thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. His face lacked color, appearing cold and ghastly like a corpse, and he was leaning against the counter with one arm.

The one on the right was shorter, wearing oversized crocodile-skin shoes over bare feet. He was burly, his muscles bulging as if they were about to burst through his clothes. His gloomy gaze scanned the shop like a hawk, and everyone who caught his eye quickly averted their gaze and hurried away.

Japan is a country that values "reading the air." For instance, single women rarely visit ramen shops because the clientele is usually male students or office workers; a woman sitting there alone would feel conspicuous.

Conversely, the same logic applies to men visiting a place that is essentially a garden for girls. Ring's primary customers are teenage girls—a world of perfume, skirts, and long hair. It is as easy to understand as not seeing men in a women's lingerie shop.

The presence of these two here was like a pair of big bad wolves breaking into a group of white rabbits. Yet, Ring, located in the heart of a busy district, had no such thing as heavily armed security.

"Is there stock or not? We had an agreement!" the bespectacled man slammed the desk, causing Miss Ririnko, who was in charge of the front desk, to tremble.

"No..." Ririnko said timidly, carefully watching the man's expression.

"Huh?" The burly man next to him leaned in, his eyes squinted and his mouth twisted at a 45-degree angle, wearing a ferocious expression that screamed, "Do you want to die?"

Their black suits hung open in the wind, with linings embroidered with blue yasha demons and naked female ghosts, as vibrant as ukiyo-e paintings.

Yakuza! Soyo was stunned. How could Ring possibly be involved with the Yakuza? She had never heard of a place like this needing to pay protection money. The word the man used was "stock"—could there be some unspeakable trade going on in the shop?

Soyo quietly opened her bag and grabbed her phone, hesitating over whether to call the police.

"Tch." The man in glasses clicked his tongue, looking troubled as he propped his forehead with his hand.

This allowed him to see the scene across the entire shop. Although it had just opened, because it was a holiday, bands had arrived early to practice. The girls were all watching from afar, whispering to each other, and no one dared to approach. A magical empty semicircle had appeared in front of the reception desk.

The burly man nudged the bespectacled one with his arm. Impatient, the bespectacled man waved his hand, and the burly man jumped over the counter.

"I’ll ask you one more time." The man in glasses stared into Ririnko’s eyes, leaning in slowly, his murderous intent fully revealed. Ririnko turned pale with fright.

"Is there any more... of that... that... Pastel*Palettes... tickets..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that..." Ririnko asked cautiously.

"He said Pastel*Palettes!" The burly man, as if having grabbed some leverage, shouted it at the top of his lungs.

The bespectacled man's face turned as red as a monkey's backside. Even though he maintained a stern expression, the twitching at the corner of his eyes betrayed the uncontrollable shame within.

Pastel*Palettes—a currently very famous idol girl band. Soyo also liked their music, as one of the members was a senior from Haneoka Girls' High School.

These two were actually here to ask for concert tickets? Soyo felt as if she were witnessing creatures from another dimension, and Ririnko was equally dumbfounded.

"Get lost! I told you not to shout so loudly!"

Amidst the shocked, questioning, disgusted, and "Yabai!" gazes of the girls, the bespectacled man finally snapped. He kicked his accomplice in the rear with such force that it seemed fueled by a blood feud.

For two high-ranking Yakuza, coming in person to buy tickets for a girl band's performance was truly humiliating, especially when exposed in front of so many people.

This feeling is like being a grown man who looks like he could be sentenced to ten years, wearing pink underwear printed with your 2D idol, walking down the streets of Shinjuku, when suddenly your belt snaps, your pants drop to the ground, and everyone is staring at you and the little bird wrapped in the smiling face of your idol...

This wasn't just social death; committing seppuku might be faster!

The heavy pressure completely killed any remaining sense of shame. As a tough guy who had climbed his way up from the streets to become a vassal of the young master, in the face of the girls' disgusted glares, Crow completed the final sublimation of his life and completely devoured his moral integrity.

"What are you looking at?! The boss told us to buy them!" At times like this, the big-footed burly man had thicker skin. With the domineering aura of "those who block me will die," he turned back and scared the girls' chatter away with just a look—true to the name of Yasha!

"Anyway, that's the situation. Our young master wants to book the entire house for the next Pastel*Palettes performance at Ring."

At this point, the only option was to sell out the young master; after all, the girls here didn't know who the boss was anyway.

Crow took a black card out of his pocket and offered it with both hands: "Full payment."

When they walked out the door, Crow sighed, and Yasha sighed as well.

It wasn't because of this incident, but because they were worried about their future.

Their young master was the emperor of the Yakuza! He collected over 30 billion yen in tributes from the Japanese underworld annually, and the businesses under his name generated hundreds of billions in revenue. The man who wielded such power should be the kind of decisive, cut-throat leader; he was a figure of fear and god-like status in people's minds, and the mere mention of his name made people tremble!

Yet, the young master was a fanboy. It was said that after hearing a song called "Fuwa Fuwa Waltz," he was captivated by the girl's pure and innocent smile. He began to support Chisato Shirasagi exclusively, and then had the Sakurai family operate the acquisition of Bushiroad as a family business.

Nominally, it was for profit, but Crow suspected it might be a case of using public funds for idol worship.

Imagining themselves in black suits, black pants, and black sunglasses, standing behind the young master with that "those who block me will die" cold-hearted look, while the young master—wearing a white headband—waved glow sticks and cheered, surrounded by the skirts and waists of girls... Crow felt his life was disillusioned and crumbling.

Come to think of it, the clan patriarch seemed the same. He heard he liked an unknown band called CryChic, saying that the way the lead singer sang with