Tanaka, usually composed, now stood before Takuya, drenched in sweat, his tie askew, clutching a document so tightly his knuckles were white.
"Managing Director, we have a crisis," Tanaka rasped, shoving the document into Takuya's arms before he could catch his breath.
"Come in." Takuya stepped aside to let him pass, closed the door behind them, and gestured toward the sofa. "Even if the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up. You're only 170 cm tall—no need to panic."
Tanaka had no patience for his boss's sarcasm. He barely touched the sofa before springing up. "There's a major leak on the Mega Drive assembly line in Hong Kong. We've been hearing rumors about super-cheap, stripped-down consoles flooding the market. We thought they were smuggled goods, but after investigating, we found the source is our own factory."
Takuya's hand paused mid-turn as he flipped through the document, then quickly regained his composure. He sat down at his desk and rapidly skimmed the thin report.
The report was meticulously detailed.
At a contract manufacturing plant in Kowloon, Hong Kong, the scrap rate had recently skyrocketed.
"Are they scrapping good products as defective and reselling them?" Takuya closed the file, his tone as calm as if discussing lunch plans. "This scheme is decades old. Did you identify the perpetrators?"
"We did," Tanaka replied, swallowing hard. "It's a warehouse supervisor colluding with two quality inspectors on the assembly line. They're labeling perfectly good machines as defective, filing scrap reports, and then smuggling the goods out during the night shift."
"Since we've identified them, report it to the police, press charges, and let them serve their time." Takuya tossed the file back onto the desk. "Why does this kind of procedural matter need to be reported to me?"
Tanaka's expression turned uneasy. He rubbed his hands nervously, looking visibly uncomfortable. "The problem lies in the man's background, Managing Director. We initially planned to handle this internally, but the culprit's older brother is connected to a certain... Triad in the area."
Hearing this, Takuya leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest.
Hong Kong in the 1990s, during the period leading up to its return to China, was indeed rife with such "Triads"—criminal organizations that operated like hydra-like tentacles, their influence pervasive and their operations murky.
"What gang are we talking about?"
"The one operating around Kwun Tong. Their exact name is hard to pin down, but they definitely control the transportation routes around the factory." Tanaka lowered his voice. "That warehouse manager is acting with total impunity. Even when we threatened to call the police, he had someone send a message: if we dared to touch him, we couldn't guarantee our trucks would ever leave the industrial zone again."
"He's threatening me?" Takuya laughed in exasperation, pulling a cigarette from his pack. He didn't light it, just twirling it between his fingers. "When we built the factory there, did we fail to pay respects to the local gangs? Did we withhold a single cent of 'tea money'?"
"We paid! Every single cent!" Tanaka slapped his thigh in frustration. "We even exceeded the customary holiday bribes by ten percent! That's why this is so infuriating. They took our money but failed to deliver, and now they're even poaching our employees."
Takuya tossed the cigarette into the trash, letting out a cold snort.
This wasn't about some jianghu code of honor; these were just a bunch of greedy, rotten thugs.
The warehouse manager's brother was probably just a mid-level lackey in the Triad.
A proper Triad Boss who collected "protection fees" from a multinational like Sega would keep a tight grip on their territory. After all, steady income over time was the key to business.
The situation was clear: the lower-level employees were hiding things from their superiors, trying to profit from both sides.
They were collecting salaries from the company while taking bribes from the Triads, and even stealing company goods to sell on the side.
Their greed was truly revolting.
"It seems these Lord Guan worshippers have forgotten what Second Brother Guan even looked like," Takuya said, rising and walking to the floor-to-ceiling window. He gazed out at Tokyo's bustling streets, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
"Managing Director, why don't we offer more money and try talking to their superiors?" Tanaka suggested tentatively.
"More money? Tanaka, remember this: you don't overfeed a dog, or it'll start seeing you as its prey." Takuya turned, straightening his cuffs. "Since they've abandoned professional ethics, we won't hold back either."
"So you mean—"
"Hire a British lawyer," Takuya said, stubbing out a cigarette that hadn't even been lit and tossing it into the trash. "The type with blonde hair, blue eyes, and an Oxford accent, who charges by the minute."
Tanaka stared in surprise. "A lawyer? To sue those gangsters?"
"File a lawsuit? That's a waste of time," Takuya said, steepling his fingers and resting them under his chin. "Hong Kong is still under the Beastly British thumb. Those street thugs may be fierce, but they cower before any wig-wearing, frock-coated Englishman. Have a lawyer deliver the documents directly to the Triad boss. Don't bother with the lackeys. Just ask him: 'Did Sega's kickback get fed to the dogs, or does your Triad intend to spar with the British Empire's Legal Counsel?'"
This was classic asymmetric warfare.
In this era of Hong Kong, foreign lawyers represented not just the law, but the oppressive authority of the colonial government counting down its final days.
Tanaka's eyes lit up, his posture instantly straightening. "Brilliant! That's a brilliant move. Those Triads fear dealing with foreigners, especially lawyers. I'll contact the best firm in Hong Kong right away."
"Don't rush to flatter me," Takuya said, lifting his coffee and taking a sip. The bitter taste washed away some of his irritation. "Have the loss figures been finalized? How much product did we lose?"
"It's been confirmed—32 units in total," Tanaka said, flipping through his notebook. "The quantity isn't large, but the destinations are intriguing."
"How so?"
"Twenty-eight of them never even hit the Hong Kong market. They were packed up and shipped across the Luohu Bridge straight into China," Tanaka said, his voice tinged with surprise. "The remaining four apparently ended up in Mong Kok's second-hand shops because those fools wanted cash fast. Our authorized dealer in the area stumbled upon them, and that's how it came to our attention."
Takuya raised an eyebrow. "The dealer reported them? I thought it would be some overly righteous citizen."
"Those dealers are shrewd," Tanaka chuckled. "Someone flaunting bare units cheaper than their purchase price right under their noses? That's threatening their livelihood. Cutting off someone's means of income is like killing their parents—they'd act even faster than the police."
"That's true," Takuya nodded, his fingers unconsciously tracing circles on the table. "But most of the units went to the mainland... It seems the market up north is even hungrier than we thought."
In those days, the mainland's demand for game consoles was like a parched sponge—any drop of water, even just a few illicit drips from the black market, would be instantly absorbed. Yet paradoxically, there was intense hostility towards them, even going so far as to label them "electronic heroin."
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