The doors swung open again, and Keito stepped in, casually adjusting the blindfold over his eyes. He was calm, as if the entire situation wasn't worth expending any extra effort. All eyes immediately turned to him, as though he were the center of everything happening.
"Kept you waiting, huh?" he said, tilting his head slightly, as if testing their reactions.
A heavy silence hung in the room. Still reeling from what had just transpired, they couldn't hold back their questions.
"What were you talking about with the Prime Minister?" one of the people present asked, barely containing their excitement. "Are you really acquainted with people like that?"
The response came quickly, but with an unexpected ease. Keito glanced at the group, holding back a smile that didn't quite surface.
"What? Don't like it?" he said, almost brushing off the gravity of the situation. "Yeah, we're acquainted. So what?"
Zhao Meili, who had been watching him with a hint of suspicion this whole time, frowned before speaking up.
"But… how is that even possible? The Prime Minister? Who are you, really?"
Keito paused for a moment, as if he were about to say something significant, but then he merely shrugged.
"The people I deal with aren't limited to those you'd meet at some ordinary gathering," he replied quietly, yet his words carried a weight that made everyone in the room sense a hidden meaning. "I see you're curious about who I am. But does that really matter? Right now, I'm just a guy handling his business."
Sergei Gromov couldn't hold back any longer and stepped closer.
"But this isn't just some casual acquaintance. The Prime Minister! That's beyond… ordinary. How did you even end up in circles like that?"
Keito let out a laugh, but there was no joy or malice in it. It was the laugh of someone who knew far more than the rest, and for that reason, remained far calmer.
"Too many questions." He paused, scanning the room. "Shouldn't you be wondering why I'm even here in the first place? Here we are, in the same room, and I… how should I put it… outrank you in status and resources. Yet you're still doubting who I am and what I want. And besides, what are you all thinking about? Isn't it the treatment?"
His words hung in the air like a heavy weight. For a few seconds, no one knew how to respond. The silence was so profound that even breathing felt too loud.
"But seriously," Keito continued, "I don't usually meddle in political affairs. If the Prime Minister is interested in me, just know I've done something right. I simply use the circumstances to get what I need. No secrets."
Everyone sat in tense anticipation, but Keito no longer paid attention to their reactions. He was focused on something of his own, as always.
He lazily walked past the group, his steps slow and deliberate, as if the whole situation was just a game to him, unworthy of serious effort. Turning toward the window, he gave a slight shrug, the faint sound of his shoulders shifting echoing in the room, as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the atmosphere grew increasingly charged.
"Let's not waste time," he said, raising a finger into the air. "As I said, I don't like dragging things out. We're here for business."
The group exchanged glances, as if on cue. Confusion flickered in their eyes. Zhao Meili could barely contain her irritation, while Sergei Gromov and the other guests began rising from their seats, each instinctively pulling back with caution.
"You… you're finally going to help us?" one of them finally blurted out, his voice trembling but laced with determination.
"Why else are we even here?" Haruko added, her tone growing sharper with impatience. "Time's running out."
Keito didn't rush. His gaze drifted over each person in the room, as if waiting for the moment they'd realize this entire conversation was just a piece of his carefully laid plan.
His smile, faint and barely there, wasn't friendly or warm by any means. It was more like a frozen mask, concealing thoughts no one could decipher.
"Well," he said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of menace, "you need the treatment, don't you? But you won't get far without the relics. Bring them here."
He swept his eyes over them, and in that moment, it became clear that every word he chose, every gesture he made, was meticulously calculated, part of his broader scheme.
"So you'd better not dawdle," he added, his tone unchanging. "Call your… lackeys. Tell them to hurry up and speed things along. Time's running out."
The room fell silent, as if frozen in place. Keito's words hung in the air like heavy weights, pinning them down, unable to respond.
They understood: there was no room for debate. Any delay could cost them dearly. It was clear Keito knew they couldn't afford to lose this game.
Zhao Meili was the first to break the silence. Her face was a mix of anger and unease, but she knew she couldn't afford to lose face in his presence.
"I'm making the call," she said sharply, turning to her phone.
Everyone in the room realized this wasn't just a request—it was an order. They had to act quickly before Keito changed the rules of the game. In that moment, their pride and vanity took a backseat. Only one goal mattered now: securing what was promised and escaping this trap alive.
Keito didn't react immediately. He slowly scanned her with his gaze, as if he'd been waiting for this exact moment. But instead of arguing, he simply turned his attention to the others.
Elena Gromova nervously clenched her fists, sensing that this was more than a simple demand. The talk of treatment… his words weren't about help—they were about cold, calculated control.
"You don't need to threaten us," she said, meeting his gaze with defiance. "You know we're willing to pay any price."
"Oh, I'm sure you are," Keito stepped forward, his eyes glinting. "But you'll have to prove just how much you value your lives. Given the circumstances, I think you'd better make the right choice."
Meanwhile, everyone in the room began to realize that this conversation about a favor had morphed into something far deeper. This wasn't just about treatment anymore. It was a test, a fight for their chance to survive.
"Hold on a sec!" Keito's voice cut through their reactions, calm but laced with barely restrained mockery. He stretched lazily, rubbing his eyelids as if bored by the whole routine.
"I didn't specify which relics I need," he said, pausing as if weighing whether to continue. Then, his lips curled into a small, faintly mocking smile. "Although, you know, if your people get ambushed while hauling that stuff here…" He twirled a finger in the air, as if sifting through possible scenarios. "It'd be tough to find the right relics in all that chaos, hmm, brilliant!"
He paused, as if lost in thought. The others waited in silence, unable to respond or object. Each word he spoke drove them further into a corner. It was becoming clear—this game was stacked against them.
Keito let out a chuckle, his eyes glinting with something almost inhuman.
"Alright, alright," he continued with an almost childlike innocence, as if the situation held no weight for him. "Bring everything you've got. We'll sort it out later. Heh, no risk, no reward."
Sergei Gromov, casting aside all caution, was the first to step forward. His eyes blazed with determination. He wasn't about to wait. Every day of delay was a chance slipping away. With a sharp exhale, he looked at the others and said, barely containing his impatience:
"I'll go first! I don't have time to waste!"
Zhao Linfei, who had been lingering on the sidelines, suddenly clenched his fists. His face darkened with resolve, a surge of resentment flaring toward anyone who dared stand in his way.
"Have you lost your mind?" he said in a low, growling voice, stepping forward. "You're not the only one dying from this damn virus! I'm not wasting a single second either."
Ludovic Dupont, with a faint smirk playing on his lips, quickly glanced at Richard before turning back to Keito and speaking calmly:
"I'm in. No doubt, this is an opportunity we can't afford to miss. But I trust you'll ensure fair conditions for everyone, Mr. Keito."
Richard Winters, ever composed and cool-headed, couldn't allow himself to fall behind. His eyes gleamed with determination as he silently stepped closer, ready to give everything to save his own skin.
"No need to drag this out," he said, as if voicing a long-considered thought. "I don't have time for idle talk. Just show me how this works."
Friedrich Weiss seemed even more resolute than the rest. He knew he was teetering on the edge of death and couldn't afford to wait a second longer. His intensity wasn't just in his words—he was ready to fight for this. His eyes burned with fury.
"I'll go first if need be," he declared firmly. "No question about it."
With every word, the tension in the room grew thicker. Everyone was now on their feet, half-ready to leap into battle. Meanwhile, Catherine and Elena, standing slightly off to the side, exchanged glances. This wasn't just a chance for their fathers—it was a chance to change everything.
Haruko, typically more reserved, couldn't ignore the sharp edge of competition, but for her, it was simpler. She couldn't afford to be last, not at this moment.
"I'm not waiting," she said firmly. "We need to act fast."
And now, the room was a powder keg of instability. They were all ready to compete for the chance to save their lives. No one could afford to hesitate—each was prepared to go all in to come out on top.
Keito leaned back in his chair, yawning with that same lazy, indifferent flair that instantly put everyone on edge. He propped his feet up on the table, looking as if he were in the most comfortable spot in the world, in no rush to respond.
"Ughhh!" he exhaled, dragging out the word with a long, exaggerated sigh. "Enough already! My head's pounding from all your chatter."
He scanned the room with an expression that suggested they were the ones causing his discomfort. His careless smile only heightened the tension.
"Hey, gentlemen, you stay put," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "But the ladies, kindly make yourselves scarce. Unless…" He raised an eyebrow through his blindfold, hinting that what followed would be far less polite. "Unless you want a kick out the door!"
A strange silence filled the room. The women exchanged glances, their eyes flickering with surprise as they looked at Keito. Haruko's gaze held a spark of irritation, but like the others, she didn't dare argue. Catherine stood silently, casting a glance at her father, who remained off to the side, before seemingly deciding to comply.
Meili's lips twisted into a grimace, but she held back from objecting. Her gaze was as cold as ever, and though she wasn't about to back down, she clearly didn't want to act just yet.
Elena, catching the look on Keito's face, sat back down and shot a glance at Sergei, who stood stiffly, eyeing her sidelong.
Keito lazily rose from his chair, as if debating whether the conversation was even worth continuing. He sauntered toward the door and, with a single gesture, pointed at the women.
"Yes, yes. Out you go, or I'll personally boot you out right now," he said, his voice calm but carrying such authority that no one even considered arguing.
Looking at him felt almost unbearable. He was carefree, utterly confident in his position, and it showed
The women silently left the room, and the moment the doors slammed shut, everything seemed to freeze. In an instant, a blinding flash of light erupted, momentarily dazzling them. All four squinted instinctively, stumbling backward.
"Damn it! What was that?!" Meili gasped, struggling to regain her vision.
"My eyes!" Haruko cried out, trying to shield herself with her hands, but it was already too late.
"He… Has he lost his mind?!" Catherine added, now certain they'd made a grave mistake by leaving the room.
A few seconds later, in a panic, they rushed back, flinging the doors open. What they saw left them in shock: their fathers lay unconscious on the floor, while Shigeru stood over them, motionless, his face cold and unyielding.
"What have you done, you bastard?!" Meili screamed, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and fear.
Shigeru paid no heed to their outbursts. He merely glanced at their frantic faces with detachment and responded casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world:
"Just cured them, little ladies." With that, he strolled off to the side, completely unbothered. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head, as if mildly annoyed by something.
The women stood frozen, rooted to the spot, as their fathers began to stir, blinking cautiously and slowly lifting their heads.
"What… what happened to us?" Yamato Rejiro was the first to pull himself together, sitting up and touching his head. His face was still pale, but he was starting to come around.
Haruko rushed to her father's side, her eyes still filled with worry. She tried to speak several times, but the words wouldn't come.
"Are you okay?" she finally asked, searching his face. "What did he do to you?"
Ludovic, just coming to, rubbed his neck, not entirely sure what had happened. His eyes held not only confusion but also a strange sense of unease.
"He… he just touched us?" Catherine stammered, staring at Shigeru, still unable to process what had occurred. "Or was it something more?"
Shigeru seemed oblivious to their agitation, watching them with an impassive expression. Whatever had happened to their fathers now seemed to interest him far less.
"I told you, everything's fine. You just got caught up in my treatment." He shrugged again, as if that explained it all. "Believe it or not, your fathers are alive and well. What more do you want?"
The women stood in silence, still grappling with what had happened. Was this truly a cure, or something far more dangerous? Shigeru remained unfazed, as if the entire ordeal was hardly worth his attention.