Chapter 33: The Other Party Insists on a Price Reduction

Inside a white Mercedes, Fujiwara Nao was in a state of frantic panic, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Calm down! Your father has just passed away; the family still relies on you to hold things together!" Mrs. Fujiwara said with a look of displeasure.

"How do you expect me to be calm!"

Nao pulled the car over in front of a café, stepped out, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

He snapped aggressively, "That old fool drove the family business into the ground and then just committed suicide. Does he expect me to inherit all his debts?"

His father, unwilling to bear the disgrace of selling off the family legacy, had chosen to kill himself, leaving all the trouble behind for his son.

"I suspect it wasn't a suicide," Mrs. Fujiwara said quietly.

"What?"

Mrs. Fujiwara continued, "Do you remember the man named Seiichi who visited the house last night?"

"I have some memory of him. He’s an arrogant young heir," Nao replied. "He actually wanted to buy the Fujiwara cinema chain for half its value. Did he really think the world revolves around him, that he could take such advantage of us?"

"Sell it to him," Mrs. Fujiwara said.

"Are you joking?" Nao shot a sidelong glance at his mother. You are already divorced from my father; you shouldn't be bossing me around.

"Do you want to follow in your father’s footsteps?" she pressed. "Do you really think your father committed suicide? He never showed any signs of suicidal tendencies before. How could he possibly decide to end his life immediately after one meeting with Seiichi?"

Nao frowned, murmuring, "Who makes their suicide a global spectacle before they even do it?"

"Then you should really reflect on the rumors surrounding Seiichi," she said.

The rumors about Seiichi were no secret in Tokyo. Previously, Nao had dismissed them as jokes, thinking people were just exaggerating the terror of the wealthy elite—surely no one could be so completely indifferent to the law. But the thought of his father’s body, piece by piece, made his heart waver. Still, he stubbornly retorted, "Even so..."

"Look out!"

Mrs. Fujiwara pulled Nao forward just as a large truck careened down the slope, smashing his Mercedes to pieces before crashing into the café. Nao stared at the truck, his heart pounding in his chest. A moment later, and he would have been crushed along with his car. In a daze, he caught a glimpse of a disheveled man and a small child rushing into the café.

"I want to meet Mr. Seiichi," Nao said.

...

"Hello? Yes, you want to invite me to dinner? Of course, I’d be happy to."

Inside Sato’s car, Seiichi finished the call with Nao and turned to the officer. "Mr. Fujiwara’s son wants to invite me to dinner. Could you trouble yourself to drive me to the Beika Hotel, Officer Sato?"

"Mr. Fujiwara’s son?" Sato’s instincts flared. Why isn't he busy with his father’s funeral arrangements? What does he want with Seiichi?

"Would you like to join us, Officer Sato?" Seiichi asked.

"No," Sato replied coldly.

They were currently closer to the Beika Hotel than to Seiichi’s house. Sato simply wanted to be rid of this man as soon as possible.

"Very well. If you were there, it might be inconvenient to discuss business with Mr. Fujiwara’s son," Seiichi said.

Inconvenient? Sato narrowed her eyes. This man was definitely planning to use his usual tactics of coercion and intimidation to force the son into selling his business.

*Screech.*

The police cruiser pulled up in front of the Beika Hotel. After Seiichi helped Ai out of the car, he turned back to Sato. "Are you sure you won't join us, Officer? You helped solve the case of Mr. Fujiwara’s suicide today. I’m sure his son wouldn't mind an extra guest."

"Fine. I’ll go," Sato said, her expression unreadable.

"Oh?"

Seeing the look of surprise on Seiichi’s face, Sato felt no change in her resolve. *What’s the matter? If I’m actually there, will you find it difficult to make your threats?*

Upstairs, Nao and Mrs. Fujiwara were finally waiting for Seiichi. To their astonishment, the policewoman had tagged along. Had collusion between officials and businessmen reached such a level that they now brought police to business dinners? Mrs. Fujiwara felt a chill of anxiety. If the negotiation didn't go well, would they just haul them off to the station? If he could frame Fujiwara’s death as a suicide, he could just as easily frame it as a murder, with either Nao or his mother as the culprit.

It was said that Tokyo’s Metropolitan Police Department was already under Seiichi’s thumb; it seemed the rumors were true.

"You’ve finally arrived," Nao said, forcing a smile.

Seiichi took off his coat and sat down. "My apologies for keeping you waiting."

"Not at all, not at all. We were the ones being abrupt," Nao said. He gestured to a waiter, who brought over a bottle of wine. Nao poured it for Seiichi himself. "This is a vintage I had air-shipped from France. Please, have a taste."

Seiichi swirled the glass, then pushed it toward Ai.

"My apologies, but I’m only nineteen. I’m not allowed to drink. Especially with a police officer present, I can’t be seen breaking the law," Seiichi said.

"My mistake. Mr. Seiichi is so young and accomplished that one often forgets your actual age."

More hollow flattery followed, making Sato frown. Ai, however, had grown accustomed to it. At first, it had disgusted her, but now she simply focused on eating. The food at such events was excellent—infinitely better than the mess hall at the Organization. She needed to eat well and grow strong so she could eventually take revenge on Seiichi.

Nao squeezed a few tears from his eyes, attempting to stir Seiichi’s pity.

"With my father having just passed, I know I lack the ability to manage these assets. I want to entrust them to you, at the price you agreed upon with my father. What do you think?" Nao asked, bowing his head.

Seiichi shook his head, his face filled with feigned kindness. "No need. If that was the price before he died, and that’s the price now, wouldn't your father’s death have been in vain? Let’s do this: I’ll increase the acquisition price by ten percent. I can’t have Mr. Fujiwara feeling cold in the afterlife."

Nao looked overjoyed. Although it was still a massive loss, the ten percent Seiichi was "bestowing" upon him would mitigate the damage. Just as he was about to agree, Mrs. Fujiwara tugged on his sleeve.

Nao looked at his mother, frowned, and then suddenly froze. He remembered the large truck at the café. If that truck had actually hit him, Seiichi wouldn't have had to pay anything at all.

Nao gritted his teeth. "Fine! Let’s stick to the price we agreed upon—actually, lower it by ten percent!"