Lord-Campione
patreon
New Dawn Chapter: 020
🕑 Added 2024-10-09 04:15:17 +0000 UTCHe shook his head. "Not at this price. Anything else, and we'd spend more on the store than the renovation." He grabbed the faded note taped to the door. "Besides, if we haggle, I'm sure they'll make it more affordable. I mean, they’re probably desperate to get rid of it."
Saya folded her arms, skeptical. "And why would they be so eager to sell it for less?"
He glanced at the decrepit building and shrugged. "Could be a few reasons. For one, they might be drowning in property taxes. A place like this, sitting empty for who knows how long? Those taxes pile up fast. Maybe they’ve just had enough."
"Hmm, that does make sense." Saya mulled for a second or two.
Tysone started listing reasons in one hand, adding a finger for each one. "Another possibility is that whoever owns this property is a small local business and can't handle the maintenance costs or, I don't know, they might be dead for all we know and whoever's dealing with their estate would prefer to sell than let the money bleed out of a place they're not willing to fix." He shrugged half-heartedly. "Either way, we should be able to buy it for less than it is marketed at. Of course, I can't do this on my own. And it'd be lovely if you could ask your parents to snoop around to see if this is legit. We wouldn't want to pour all this work and money into it, only to be screwed over."
Saya huffed, crossing her arms as she gave the store a critical eye. "Leave it to me. In the meantime, I need you to—"
"To look for other options if this turns out to be a bust?"
She raised an eyebrow, eyeing him carefully.
Tysone smirked.
Saya harrumphed.
It wasn't like she disliked having such a reliable person on her side.
At least not really.
"My, Saya-chan. Have you perhaps fallen for my roguish charm?"
And then her cheeks turned cherry red. "W-W-W-What do you mean—"
He promptly stretched out his right arm and rubbed his left biceps. Saya blinked. It was toned. Muscle formed and shifted under his tight, black sleeves. A smirk curled up his lips.
She caught a whiff of his detergent-y scent.
Something between his own personal taste and masculine sweat—which shouldn't have had an impact on her brain whatsoever—sent all blood rushing to her cheeks.
"Damn it, you! Just shut up!"
She turned around sharply, gritting her teeth.
"I'll wait for your good news, Saya. Please, don't disappoint me."
Her eyes widened slightly as she turned back around, only to face Tysone's back. "Wait, where are you going all of a sudden?!"
But he waved his hand lazily and disappeared into the crowd.
Left alone in front of the neglected store, Saya could've only stare, both dumbfounded and mesmerized. She looked at her wrist. "This idiot…" She stood there for a good few seconds. "Weird, weird, weird." She concluded with a sigh.
She noticed a passerby giving her a queer look, causing her to merely roll her eyes, and then walk in the direction she presumed would take her home.
Stupid Tysone.
…
And just like that, a week went by. A normal week with normal people and normal problems.
Nothing happened in Japan. Nobody was dead. Except a lot of the older generations, whose time had come and went, but that didn't matter to the current ones. They still wanted the money of the old days, or a safe and secure job, and they wanted it yesterday. But things were always changing, and most adults could not change with it. The concept was beyond them—possibly too far-fetched for the Japanese traditional mindset.
Tysone wondered how much he could change, both himself and the world around him.
What exactly would drive him to accomplish that?
Sure, he had an ultimate objective, but the question remained: what would ultimately enable him to reach it? Money? Power? Influence?
History proved that the greatest of empires could crumble with one stroke of misfortune, whether that be a coup d'état or a disease.
Therefore, power wasn't infallible, for one thing could never control every single variable.
Money was supposed to be a means to an end, not the end itself.
Influence? It depended entirely on who had it and how it could be abused, manipulated, or squandered. Dirt was so easily thrown at great people.
Tysone was not blind to the power of knowledge or talent, yet knowledge wasn't power unless it was applied, and talent couldn't take care of itself unless properly taken care of.
As such, Tysone couldn't envision how any of those factors would guarantee his survival in a zombie apocalypse. Not that he was planning to become the very last man standing, but he had to be reasonably prepared to not be completely overtaken by despair, for what was life if he couldn't live it at all?
So, the answer to all of these questions, a conglomeration of the best elements, had to be something, in theory, impervious to decay—an existence with longevity.
Immortality, perhaps.
Maybe with enough money, he could fund something like that?
Not that it was really that important or smart to invest in that, since even in his technologically more advanced world, that code had yet to be cracked—though striders were being made.
His phone vibrated with incoming message notifications. He immediately grabbed it, thinking it was Saya, but it was Mai instead.
Mai: Hey, doofus.
Mai: What are you doing?
Tysone contemplated replying before sighing and flipping his phone shut. As much as he liked Mai, he wasn’t in the right headspace to talk to her. He was anxious to get started on his Rage Room.
Thankfully, when his phone vibrated again, it was because of Saya. promptly answered the call.
He smiled. “Well, well, look at who decided to finally remember that this poor American brokie still exists.”
“Hey, yankee, I’ve got some good and bad news, which one do you wanna hear first?”
Straight to the point. He loved that.
"Give it to me the way you think best, little missus. I'm sure whatever news you have can't be worse than the US economic disaster."
There was a long, tired sigh on the other end of the line. "Let's cut to the chase. My parents want to meet you, Tysone. They're coming back to Japan this week. They kind of... know about us."
Tysone made an odd face. "Saya, as much as I respect your higher intellect, you need to work on your phrasing."
"I-I was talking about the business side of things, you damn idiot!"
“I know, you damn brat.” Tysone pinched his nose. “But if you said something in a similar vein to your parents, I can only imagine the motive behind their wanting to suddenly meet me.”
He could briefly hear her growl, before she seemingly composed herself. “I’m not stupid like you, I said only the bare minimum to get their approval. Trust me, no worries here. Dad did say he wanted to have a private chat with you, though."
Tysone doubted she understood anything at all. The nerve and lack of social awareness displayed in that sentence was astounding. "You want me to die, Saya?"
"Why would I want that, dummy?! Just come and meet me and my dad! We'll work out a formal deal, just you wait. I'll ask him to keep his hands off you. I'm a genius, remember? Everything will work out in our favor. Just watch."
He could scarcely believe his ears. "Saya, you..."
"I know, I'm amazing, aren't I?"
She chortled in a villainous-like way.
"......"
'Well, it had to happen sooner or later, I guess.' Tysone thought morosely, hanging up on a laughing Saya. 'Still, this is too sudden.'
In all of this, his phone buzzed with new incoming messages.
Mai was quite the stubborn girl, wasn’t she?
…
The Takagi Estate was as grand as always, but Tysone navigated its insides with calm familiarity; he had been coming here for a while already. And he could only hope that his Japanese would impress Mr and Ms. Takagi, otherwise he’d have to latch onto Mai’s rich thighs.
For the occasion, Tysone wore more formal clothes. A cream-colored dress shirt, black pants, and equally black, polished shoes. He had to spend a bit on this apparel, but he reasoned that if it got on their good graces, it was well worth it.
“You look nervous, Mister Tysone.”
The maid astutely observed.
He laughed. You'd think going through death's womb once would make anyone impervious to agitation, but that wasn't true. It was not as if he feared Saya's parents, but there was a gap in status and wealth that had to be filled through with an attitude adjustment. He couldn't talk to them like he talked to Saya or Mai.
Besides, he was black, which meant the odds were already against him.
“So do you, maid-san.”
She laughed.
