Takashi repeated the same question over and over.
And Dōmoku Kai, clearly realizing what would happen to that hand once he answered, just kept pleading and sobbing without saying it.
Watching the continuous strikes as Takashi beat Dōmoku Kai until he was covered in blood, clearly on the verge of being beaten to death, the Ryuju gang member with the scar twitched uncontrollably at the corner of his eye.
'Brother Takashi is ruthless!'
He'd seen bloodier scenes before.
What truly unsettled him was Takashi's composure as he spoke—completely calm from beginning to end.
Anyone could see that Takashi was furious.
But he never lost his cool.
They'd seen hot-headed youngsters go into blind rages and kill before.
But someone like Takashi, who remained calm and rational even in a state of extreme anger, was rare—very rare.
'No wonder the young miss took a liking to him. With Brother Takashi leading the Ryuju gang, how could we not rise to power?'
Amid his fear, the scarred man also felt reassurance.
Only someone with such a cold, ruthless heart was worthy of commanding them.
"Which hand did you use?"
"M-My right hand…"
After who knows how many beatings, Dōmoku Kai finally confessed.
If he said it, he might just lose a hand.
If he didn't, he might lose his life.
"Give it to me."
Takashi tossed the metal bat to one subordinate and reached his hand toward another, who held a massive sledgehammer.
That man handed over the hammer.
"Put his hand down. Stretch it out."
Takashi kicked over a rotting wooden stool. Several subordinates immediately dragged Dōmoku Kai forward and stretched out his arm.
Takashi didn't say another word.
He gripped the hammer with both hands and, as all the gang members turned their heads away, brought it crashing down on the arm.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!"
Dōmoku Kai let out the most wretched scream of the night, echoing into the sky.
Takashi, having finished, dropped the hammer on the ground and left the warehouse without looking back.
Once outside, he took a deep breath of the night air and called Ryuju Momo.
"Thanks for today."
At this moment, Momo was lying on her bed, long legs lifted lazily in the air as she shifted her gaze away from her tablet.
If one looked closely, they'd notice the tablet wasn't playing a variety show or drama—but live footage from the warehouse.
Through the surveillance feed, Momo could clearly see everything: the blood, the unnaturally twisted arm, even Dōmoku Kai's dog-like whimpers.
"There's no need for thanks between us, is there?"
Of course, she'd watched everything Takashi just did.
"You didn't need to get your hands dirty. You could've let my men take care of it."
…
Outside the warehouse, Takashi let the night wind blow against him. He pulled a lollipop from his pocket, tore off the bright wrapper, and popped it into his mouth.
"Some things—I want to do myself."
If you just bottle it up, wouldn't you become a repressed man?
"Heh."
Momo giggled lightly on the phone.
"I thought you'd take a more gentle approach."
"Do you know why he hit Aoyama Nanami and not anyone else?"
Maybe it was the sugar, but Takashi's mood improved.
Some people smoke when they're upset. Some drink.
Takashi had tried both, but didn't like either.
When he felt down, he just liked to give himself something sweet.
Life was bitter enough. He wanted to give himself a bit of sweetness.
That's why he always carried candy.
"Why?"
"Because she's weak."
Takashi smirked coldly.
"Some people just like to bully those weaker than themselves."
"Because he's stronger, bullying her was easy."
"He knew—even if he hurt her, it wouldn't cause a stir."
For the weak to fight back, they often have to risk everything.
Just because they're weak.
If Aoyama Nanami didn't know Takashi, if she were just an ordinary girl facing this situation, she could only endure it.
Because she had no other choice.
No one would stand up for her.
"I saw him begging for mercy. Why didn't you let it go?"
Takashi laughed coldly again: "He wasn't sorry. He was just scared."
…
"He wasn't sorry. He was just scared."
Hearing Takashi's reply, Momo smiled with satisfaction.
All this time, Takashi had always acted silly in front of her, sometimes even meekly, with barely any masculinity.
But she had always suspected—that wasn't the real him.
The real Takashi was nothing like that.
If he were truly the person he pretended to be, there was no way he could've won the hearts of Hitomi and Narii.
Of course, he wouldn't have drawn her attention either.
From the beginning, Momo had a good impression of Takashi, but she didn't know why.
Now, she understood.
Takashi was like her father.
A father plays a huge role in a daughter's life.
A girl's type is often shaped by her father.
Many girls hope to find someone like their dad as their future partner.
So did Momo.
She loved that outlaw air about her father.
She loved that he came from nothing but dared to point a gun at fate.
She loved his tenderness to his family.
She loved how he would use overwhelming force against anyone who tried to hurt someone he cared about.
He was like Whitebeard from One Piece.
Everyone knows pirates are evil. No matter how anime tries to glorify it, pirates are evil—no doubt about it.
But that didn't stop Whitebeard from being incredibly charismatic.
Takashi was just like her father—same outlaw aura, same courage to act, same ruthlessness toward threats.
He was never a docile sheep.
He was a wolf in sheep's clothing. A wolf even Hitomi couldn't tame.
He never obeyed blindly.
Even though he knew marrying into the Konoe family would give him everything he wanted, he still refused, fighting for his future.
Because he knew—anything gained through that marriage wouldn't truly be his.
Luxury watches, sports cars, mansions, status, respect—Hitomi could give him all of it, and just as easily take it back.
What he wanted was something he could hold in his own hands.
'Takashi, you really are the most special, the best~'
Momo switched camera angles, her finger lingering on the screen showing the boy with a lollipop in his mouth.
Along with her rising affection, her desire to conquer him had never been stronger.
Takashi was a wild wolf of the plains—unrestrainable.
But she wanted to tame him anyway.
Hitomi was terrifying. Narii was powerful. Nagisa was threatening.
But so what?
People don't treasure what comes too easily.
Only what's fought for—especially what's stolen from a sworn rival—is truly satisfying.
…
Meanwhile, just as Dōmoku Kai was being taught a bloody lesson, in a high-end apartment:
"What?"
Ueguchi Megumi received a piece of devastating news.
"They're replacing my role?"
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