Damian, the imposing figure on the underworld, entered the cafe and quickly spotted Logan by the window.
Without any pretense, he walked over with a warm, approachable smile.
"Logan, what a rare occasion..."
The affectionate greeting and joyous reunion earned Logan an approving 'Not bad' glance from Olivia.
"Rare indeed," Logan replied while rolling his eyes at her. Originally, Damian had called him "little brother," but after too many meetings, the terms of address had inevitably grown more familiar.
"Getting you to agree to tea isn't easy. But since you prefer refined and quiet places, I can certainly..." Dressed in a sharp suit and exuding enthusiasm, Damian trailed off as he noticed Olivia, who had now moved to sit beside Logan.
"This is my senior. I ran into her by accident."
A sharp pinch on his thigh forced Logan to maintain his poker face, "Sorry about that."
Damian blinked. An extra woman was unexpected, but he smoothly adjusted. As someone well-versed in social graces, he adapted effortlessly.
Olivia greeted him politely before settling into a corner, quietly observing with wide-eyed curiosity.
Her status in Fresno was upper-class, and she had met plenty of influential figures. But the so-called 'gray underworld' was entirely new to her.
Driven by restless curiosity, she shamelessly insisted on staying.
Yet Olivia was destined for disappointment. The changing times had washed away the old-school underworld, and what remained was just as dirty and grim.
The conversation between the two men was hardly stimulating. After all, they inhabited different worlds, especially since Logan had come straight from school in his uniform, facing off against a thirty-something gangster.
The exchange felt like switching between incompatible channels. Whether in packaging or substance, after the initial pleasantries, the tone gradually spiraled out of control.
"How've you been lately?"
"Not bad, just a bit busy and tired." Damian loosened his tie with practiced nonchalance.
"Ah, same."
The topic seemed to align perfectly, until Damian stared silently at Logan's youthful school uniform.
"..."
Grinding through college entrance exams was fundamentally different from consolidating underground power.
They tried their best, setting aside discomfort and exchanging platitudes to maintain harmony.
Meanwhile, Olivia was struggling to stay engaged. The streets outside glittered with neon, the glass windows reflecting a kaleidoscope of colors. All she heard was empty small talk, nothing thrilling.
Pedestrians and cars came and went, the city's bustle never fading. No gang wars, no corrupt police chiefs, no dramatic confessions of redemption. Olivia stifled a yawn.
She was ready to make an excuse and leave.
When the topic of 'jobs' came up, Logan grew slightly embarrassed.
Eventually, the conversation truly ran dry. Damian, a seasoned socialite, could endure, but Logan couldn't. He started wondering how to broach the subject, because a diligent student wouldn't care about money.
Damian took a sip of water, subtly steadying himself. He had assumed Logan's invitation meant there was something to discuss. No one was naive enough to think this was just a casual catch-up.
If Logan needed something, Damian wouldn't hesitate, as this wasn't some veiled negotiation. The problem was, he had no idea what to offer!
After an internal struggle, Logan tentatively asked, "By the way, do you still have conflicts these days?"
'Questioning our influence?'
Damian laughed heartily, "No conflicts at all. In Fresno, our word carries weight. The situation's better than before."
"I see..." Logan felt a twinge of awkwardness and changed tactics, "What about back when fights were common...?"
"Ah, that's all in the past." Damian felt a flicker of embarrassment, his pride stung. He meticulously clarified, "No one dares cause trouble now. If we're developing something, we negotiate first. If there's friction, we smooth it over… contracts, official seals, all above board. Government-approved."
Well, there it is. Incorporated, peaceful profit-seeking, they'd fully gone legit.
Violence never truly disappeared, it just evolved, hidden and less overt. Logan sensed complications.
Neon signs dotted the night, and a flicker of chaos disrupted one spot by the window.
Logan listened half-heartedly as Damian confidently assured him everything was under control. Then, there's a sudden pause and Logan looked up sharply. Olivia was idly counting napkins, while Damian's gaze flickered toward something unsettling.
Following their line of sight, Logan turned and noticed a crowd gathering near the street corner.
Tap, tap, tap.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Damian's expression tightened.
"Boss, there's trouble at Phoenix Dance—"
The second floor was empty except for their table. Two underlings barely got a word out before Damian barked, "Out! Can't you see I'm discussing matters with a friend?"
"Y-yes, sir."
"Heh, new recruits. Don't mind them..."
When Damian turned back with a forced smile, he found Logan and Olivia suddenly alert, eyes gleaming.
'Huh? The mood shifted.'
"Someone's causing trouble?" Logan asked cheerfully, his sharp gaze confirming the commotion down the street.
Damian froze, then sighed in realization, 'So that's what he wanted.'
"Ah..."
'Of all things...' Damian cared more about his bruised pride as a 'big boss' than the actual disturbance.
The situation suddenly became clear.
Outside a garishly named nightclub, Phoenix Dance Heaven, chaos reigned. One of the glass doors was shattered, shards and blood strewn across the entrance.
Scattered shouts echoed inside. Most patrons had fled. Rolling up his sleeves, Logan waved off Damian's pained expression and slipped inside.
Two minutes later, two vans pulled up. A group of men appeared, only to stop in surprise at the sight of their boss. After a brief exchange, they sheepishly retreated to their vehicles.
Inside, a brawl was in full swing. Logan felt oddly reassured by the familiar scene. He was about to wrap things up quickly when a slender figure suddenly darted past him.
The club's lighting was erratic, colors swirling unpredictably.
"So this is a gang fight." Olivia mused, scanning the dance floor with keen interest.
"Whoa, why'd you follow me?" Logan stared, alarmed. "Get back outside. It's dangerous."
"It's a rare opportunity. Besides, isn't the great Sage Hattori here?" A barstool smashed into a shelf of liquor bottles, sending expensive alcohol cascading across the floor. Olivia gave him a knowing look, "You used to do this often? Wouldn't have guessed."
"Don't slander me. This is my last job, I'm retiring after this."
"Tsk tsk tsk."
Just then, two burly men locked in combat rolled nearby. The victor stood, glowering, only to falter at the sight of the newcomers.
A girl is fine, but a kid in a school uniform?
"This one's an enemy, right?" Olivia asked.
"Probably..."
"Let me try."
To Logan's surprise, Olivia stepped forward boldly, dodging a meaty fist and countering with a punch. The man staggered back as if scripted, crashing through chairs before collapsing in a heap.
A mix of martial arts and faint Chakra. Olivia stared at her hands in disbelief, as if she'd unlocked protagonist's halo, "I'm invincible."
"..." Logan facepalmed, torn between exasperation and an odd fondness for her childish enthusiasm.
"Hey, big guy, you're not faking, are you?" Olivia called out.
The man clutching his chest on the floor began questioning reality.
"See that, Logan?"
"Yeah... Now get back here." Logan didn't share her excitement.
Like a cultivator testing her skills, Olivia wasn't about to stop after a warm-up. With Logan covering her, she took down two more opponents, thoroughly enjoying herself.
For a while, Logan let her be, handling his own tasks while keeping a close eye on her.
Then, a defiant young man noticed them and pulled out a switchblade.
The blade gleamed ominously. Faced with real danger, Olivia hesitated before steeling herself to strike first.
But she didn't move. An immovable force held her back, her collar yanked firmly.
"Step aside."
The words lingered in her ear as Logan shot forward like lightning.
Olivia straightened her clothes, pouting, "What's the big deal?"
Still, she knew her limits. Calming her racing heart, she settled for spectating the close-quarters combat display.
Bodies crumpled in rapid succession.
Amid the flying debris and furious shouts, clearly perilous, she felt no fear.
The wrecked bar, overturned bottles, one against one, one against ten… no one could touch him, no one could land a hit.
In the dim, chaotic light, the air thick with smoke and alcohol, Olivia pressed a hand to her pounding chest, her face flushed and eyes sparkling.