Lord-Campione
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New Dawn Chapter: 021
🕑 Added 2024-10-14 04:04:00 +0000 UTCTysone was inside the lion’s den; ironically enough, he had been there many times, but the lions had been out hunting.
As such, the moment his stupidly expensive leather shoes clacked loudly on the marble flooring, it was as if he was enveloped by a different type of aura. He pulled the lapels of his jacket straight.
‘I’ve got to make a good impression.’ Tysone thought. It was not of paramount importance to be liked by them, but it’d make every action of his incomparably easier. Who’d dare take advantage of him when Mr. Takagi had his ass covered? ‘I hope this will be liked, at least.’
He looked at the bottle in his hand—a fancy bottle of Hibiki Suntory Whisky. It did cost him a pretty penny, but he gritted his teeth and made this investment.
‘See the things I do for you, Saya?’
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gift.” The maid said. He was so lost in his head that he almost didn’t catch her words.
Tysone blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He shot the maid a grin, one eyebrow quirking up as he glanced at the bottle again.
“Well, if he doesn’t, at least I’ll have something nice to cry into.” He said, giving the bottle a light shake for emphasis. “Though between you and me, I think it’s more likely I’ll be the one needing a drink by the end of this.”
The maid’s lips twitched, but she stayed silent, her eyes drifting toward the imposing double doors at the end of the hall—the ones that led to Mr. Takagi’s office. Tysone’s grin faded slightly as he followed her gaze.
“Do me a favor and remind me again why I’m about to hand a man with a sword collection and a world-class temper a bottle of whisky?” He sighed dramatically, adjusting his tie. “This better be enough to keep my head on my shoulders.”
The maid smirked this time, clearly amused. “If it’s not, I’ll make sure your epitaph reads: He died as he lived—trying to bribe his way out of trouble.”
Tysone chuckled softly. “That’s assuming there’s enough left of me to bury.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. He is not as bad as you think he is.”
“Right?” He sighed, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “ Well, here goes."
The door creaked open, and then they stepped into what could best be described as a fancy study. Honestly, it’s exactly what you’d expect from a rich man in politics.
Tysone took a moment to examine the room, noting its mahogany furnishing and high ceilings, the dim lighting and antique décor, the floor to ceiling windows and lush carpeting, not to mention the swords adorning one of the walls.
The maid promptly retreated once her duty was completed. Tysone noticed the slight click and whirr of the doors being shut again behind him.
And so, Tysone found himself under the scrutiny of the whole Takagi family.
The man himself, Souichiro Takagi, was seated behind his desk, calmly behelding him. He was tall and imposing, his shoulders broad and his chin firm. His features were very strong, his eyes were slits of orange fire. He was dressed to the nines in a clean suit.
To his left was Saya. With her rosy cheeks and sleek twin tailed-pigtails. A hand was on her shoulder, and Tysone followed it up to a refined woman, all white silk and china skin and purple hair. A red, red lip and sharp purple eyes.
There was a gentle smile on her face, if not a bit of surprise at seeing Tysone, something that was reflected in her husband's eyes, though to a higher and negative degree.
"Welcome, young man." Souichiro started in perfect English, leaning back slightly. "You've finally arrived."
His gaze dropped to the bottle Tysone carried.
'Not wasting time, huh?'
Tysone forced a cordial smile on his face. "Mister and Missus Takagi, it's a pleasure to meet you." He said, in Japanese.
A flicker of interest flashed in their eyes. Clearly, the sight of a black man, dressed in a nice suit, speaking Japanese was rather interesting to them.
"Indeed." The man spoke smoothly, the small upturn of his mouth making his thin mustache twitch. "I see you're more than meets the eye." A brief pause, where Souichiro eyed the bottle. "Put it here."
"Yes, sir."
Tysone walked unhurriedly towards the desk, mindful of the woman's sharp stare. When he got near, he leaned forward to place the bottle carefully.
"I hope it suits your tastes."
"Hm. We will soon find out, now won't we?" The politician drawled out, resting his chin on interlaced fingers, elbows perched over the polished oak of his desk. "The old man had one thing right, even if he was a hick: Japanese whisky is the best. And yours is quite fancy looking."
"I didn't have the chance to read up about whisky in depth, but my limited knowledge does let me appreciate the craftsmanship." Tysone leaned back, careful to not sound sycophantic or too eager, but interested enough to engage.
"Indeed. Still, this Hibiki whisky is not bad. Not bad at all, young man. Have a seat."
There were three, luxurious seats, separated from the Takagi patriarch's imposing desk. Tysone settled himself with a grateful expression on his face. "Much appreciated, sir."
Yuriko settled behind Souichirou, her hand moving from Saya's shoulder to her husband's. The tight-lipped frown on the man's face eased a bit. "Come on now, dear. Don't give our guests too much of a hard time. He's Saya-chan's friend, after all."
"What friend, woman?" He pointedly ignored Tysone's confused expression. "He's just a brat."
"Aw, don't say that. I can tell he's an interesting guy! Quite knowledgeable, if not a tad rough." Yuriko tittered. "How was your stay here, son? Has Japan been a good experience?"
She tilted her head in Tysone's direction, expecting an answer. Perfect English flowed out of her pretty mouth, and Tysone had to wonder if his native tongue was so easy to learn that seemingly everyone knew it.
As for the question itself.
Good experience? He couldn't say it was a bad one, but it was, quite respectfully, a bit of a culture shock. More so when he saw how scarce his black-skinned brothers were. No wonder everyone treated him with caution. So far, Saya, Mai, and a couple of co-workers had been a wonderful company.
Still, he couldn't possibly say that to the woman's kind face. "Everything's been alright, Mrs Takagi." He responded calmly, choosing his next words with great care. He seamlessly switched to English, and felt a surge of confidence when speaking. "I've made some really wonderful experiences, your daughter's acquaintance being one of them."
She seemed happy with the answer and gave him a slight smile.
"Are you dating her? Aren't you a bit too old for her?" Saichirou jumped in, a suspicious glint in his fiery eyes.
Tysone blinked in surprise. Somehow, he had an inkling that the reason for the man's initial hostility was exactly that—some sort of misunderstanding.
"W-W-What...?!" Saya sputtered. Disbelief? Embarrassment? A touch of shyness, unexpectedly?
She was about to say something, but Tysone didn't trust her eloquence in high-stress situations, especially when they concerned her more volatile emotions. She was a brat, after all.
"There seems to be a misunderstanding, Mr. Takagi." Tysone cleared up. He'd have spoken sooner, but speaking quickly and forcefully, besides it being rude, would only lead to further misunderstandings down the line. This was an anime. Best to clear the situation out once and for all, with the best choice of words. He flashed a smile and turned to the Takagi matriarch. Amusement swirled in his dark, chocolate eyes. "The little missus is not my type."
"Oh, how so?" Before Saichirou could begin to be offended, Yuriko tilted her head.
“Well, Mrs. Takagi, your daughter is brilliant, no doubt about it—sharp as a blade, fierce as a lioness. But I tend to prefer women who are a little less...” He glanced at Saya, who was glaring daggers at him “...likely to threaten me with bodily harm if I step out of line.”
Saya's eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?!”
He chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “See what I mean? I’m just saying, I’d rather not have to wear a helmet on a first date.”
Yuriko let out a soft laugh, while Saichirou’s expression tightened, but a glint of reluctant amusement danced in his eyes. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, boy. Just make sure it doesn’t get you into trouble.”
Tysone heaved a sigh of relief, inwardly. Outwardly, he had to keep his face pulled into a relaxed expression. Appear weak when strong, and strong when weak, or somesuch.
“What I appreciate the most about her is that keen intellect and business acumen that she, no doubt, must’ve inherited from you, Mrs. Takagi.” The woman smiled sweetly at him, which, for some reason, put him on high alert. Had she sensed something? Tysone quickly turned towards Saichirou, who was now looking at him more intensely. “Mr. Takagi, your daughter and I are currently working on a business plan. A Rage Room. And I’d love to hear your insight about it.”
