A Rainy Confrontation – Inside the Dark Crimson Headquarters It was a bleak, unforgiving night. Rain lashed violently against the quiet streets of Yokohama, each drop striking the pavement with the force of a warning. The clouds above hung low and swollen, veiling the city in a shroud of oppressive darkness. Streetlights flickered against the downpour, their amber glow smudged by the water streaming down their glass casings.

Thud... thud... thud...

Inside the headquarters of the Dark Crimson Mafia, silence reigned. The vast building was nearly deserted—save for the upper echelon, whose authority allowed them to remain past official working hours. It was well past ten o'clock; the corridors, once alive with the soft murmur of subordinates and the click of polished shoes, now echoed only the faint hum of electricity and the persistent drumming of rain.

In one of the upper chambers, tension brewed thick in the dim light.

Yokono Yozo, the second-in-command and right hand of Nakamura Katsu himself, stood rigidly before a rain-slicked window. He was the embodiment of discipline—stoic, cold, methodical. A man who handled danger as though it were routine, never flinching, never cracking. His dark navy hair was immaculately combed back, as always, and his arms were crossed in front of his broad chest. He stared outside, though his mind was not on the storm.

You were present in the same room, leaning with nonchalance against the far wall. The silence between you was deafening.

Yokono had summoned you to discuss what had become a far-too-common subject: your mistakes. This time, it was over a highly sensitive file—an asset that had mysteriously gone uncollected under your watch. Despite your position as the third-in-command, your arrogance often cast a longer shadow than your title. You flaunted your proximity to Nakamura-sama as though it were armor, shielding yourself from consequence. You acted with a brazen air of superiority, strutting through the halls with that insufferable smirk, talking down to those who had spent decades clawing their way up the ranks—including Yokono himself.

And he loathed you for it.

To Yokono, you were a parasite. A loud, obnoxious, smug little brat who used charm and favoritism to slip free of accountability. You were chaos disguised in fine silk. While he had spent his years spilling blood, commanding serpents, and building an iron reputation, you had simply... coasted. Laughing. Mocking. Never held accountable. Never afraid. Never serious.

He hated that about you.

He hated how freely you moved through the empire. How you turned it into your playground.

How you played with danger as if it were a toy, then left others to clean up the mess. Your disregard for order. Your reckless sense of freedom. Your complete and utter lack of respect.

To Yokono, you were everything he despised.

And tonight, you had pushed him one step too far.

He exhaled sharply, still facing the rain-streaked glass.

"-san," he began, voice steady but biting, "you are fully aware of how life-threatening that file is."

He spoke without looking at you, each word dropped like a weight.

"And yet... you did not retrieve it."

A moment passed. He sighed—slow, quiet, but laced with seething disappointment.

"Why is that?" he asked, his tone shifting now, edged with disdain.

"Was it because you're expecting compensation? Or is it simply that you no longer feel compelled to do your damn job properly?"

He already anticipated your response. Some flippant excuse. A cocky remark.

A lazy joke about being too 'busy' or 'underappreciated.' It infuriated him how little you seemed to care.

Before you could even part your lips to reply, Yokono moved.

One second, he was near the window. The next, he was directly in front of you.

The motion was so swift, it blurred—like a serpent striking from shadow.

His fist slammed into the wall beside your head with brutal force, missing your face by mere inches. The impact left a deep, jagged crack in the concrete. Dust trembled loose from the ceiling above. The noise echoed through the chamber like a gunshot.

"Are you stupid? Test me one more time and see what happens."