CHRISTIAN
It had been days since Liam and I arrived in Tokyo, and still, the silence in Ryuji’s home was unnerving.
Not the peaceful kind, no. This one was suffocating—heavy with grief, tension, and unanswered questions. His estate was tucked away from the city, cloaked in tall trees and security that rivaled the damn Pentagon. It was always quiet here, but this time, it felt like even the air was mourning.
I sat across from Ryuji in his private room, the same room where we’d smoked cigars after major deals, where we toasted wins, where Hajime used to burst in uninvited like he owned the place. Now… It felt like a tomb.
He looked different now.
Gone were the suits, the silk ties, the polished cufflinks. Instead, Ryuji sat in shiro-muku—a white mourning kimono. A traditional sign of gr
