The night air was cool, and the city lights shimmered like a sea of jewels as I drove toward one of the most prestigious restaurants in Tokyo—Akasaka Bloom Garden, a place where only the wealthy dined.
The sleek hum of my newly purchased sports car drew attention everywhere I passed. People on the sidewalks turned their heads, eyes widening at the sight. By the time I pulled up to the restaurant's entrance, a valet rushed forward, almost stumbling over himself.
> "G-good evening, sir! May I park your car?"
I handed him the keys casually.
> "Be careful with her."
The young man nodded frantically, unable to take his eyes off the gleaming machine. I could feel the gazes from the restaurant's waiting crowd—envy, curiosity, suspicion—all of it washing over me.
Inside, the interior sparkled with chandeliers, polished marble floors, and soft classical music drifting in the air. The hostess greeted me with a bow.
> "Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?"
> "No," I replied evenly, "but I'll take the best seat you have available."
Her eyes flickered to my clothes, then out the window where the car had been parked. Immediately, her tone shifted to respect.
> "Right this way, sir."
She led me to a prime window seat overlooking the city. I ordered without hesitation—premium wagyu steak, lobster tail, black truffle risotto, and a bottle of Château Margaux wine that cost more than most people's monthly salary.
As the dishes began to arrive, I leaned back, savoring the aroma. First time eating like this… might as well make it memorable.
But before I could take my second bite, a shadow fell across the table. A young man in a tailored suit, hair slicked back with precision, stood there with a confident smirk.
> "Excuse me. May I sit here?" he asked, without really waiting for an answer.
I glanced at him once, then shrugged.
> "Suit yourself."
He sat down smoothly, snapping his fingers. A waiter hurried over immediately. Clearly, he was a regular.
> "I'm Ryoichi Takahara," he said, extending his hand across the table. "My family runs one of the largest car dealerships in Tokyo. Perhaps you've heard of Takahara Motors?"
I shook his hand briefly, then returned to my food.
> "Can't say I have."
His smirk faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly.
> "That's fine. We have multiple showrooms across the city, importing only the best luxury vehicles. When I saw you arrive, I couldn't help but notice—you're driving the new Zenith Aurora GT, aren't you?"
I raised an eyebrow.
> "You've got a sharp eye."
He chuckled, swirling the wine glass the waiter had just poured him.
> "Of course. Cars are in my blood. That model hasn't even been out for two months. Most people can't even get on the waiting list."
I sliced into my steak slowly.
> "Yet here I am, driving one."
That shut him up for a second. His gaze lingered on me, curiosity sparking in his eyes.
> "You don't look like an old-money type," Ryoichi said carefully. "New money, then? Business? Investments? Or… something else?"
I smiled faintly but didn't answer directly.
> "Let's just say I prepare for the future differently than others."
He leaned forward, intrigued.
> "Interesting. I like ambitious men. Perhaps we can do business. If you ever need cars, fleets, or connections, I can make things happen."
I set down my knife and fork, meeting his gaze head-on.
> "And if I needed you to supply me with twenty cars… tomorrow?"
His smirk widened, but a flicker of unease appeared.
> "Twenty? That's… quite the order. You'd need a warehouse to keep them. But yes, with enough money, it could be arranged."
I leaned back, sipping the expensive wine, watching the play of curiosity and arrogance in Ryoichi's eyes.
> "In fact," I said calmly, "I don't just want twenty cars. I want every type of vehicle you can get your hands on. From sports cars to sedans, from trucks to construction vehicles. Even oil tankers, if you can source them."
The wine glass in his hand froze midair. His confident smirk faltered for the first time that evening.
> "E-every… vehicle type?"
I nodded casually, as though I were discussing the weather.
> "That's right. I want variety. Passenger cars, cargo trucks, cranes, bulldozers, even refrigerated transport. Don't worry about the money—I have plenty."
The words slipped from my mouth with deliberate arrogance, and I could see the effect instantly. Ryoichi's expression shifted—shock, disbelief, and then the faintest glimmer of suspicion.
He set his glass down carefully, leaning forward.
> "Mr. Kane… do you have any idea what you're asking? That's not just a large order. That's… billions worth of vehicles. Entire fleets. Even major corporations would hesitate to make such a demand."
I smiled faintly.
> "So? Are you saying you can't handle it?"
That jab struck his pride. His brows knitted, but instead of snapping, he forced out a laugh.
> "Handle it? Of course I can handle it. Takahara Motors doesn't turn away customers. But—" he lowered his voice slightly, eyes narrowing, "—why? Why does one man need fleets of vehicles, construction machines, and tankers? What exactly are you preparing for?"
The restaurant's soft music played on, and laughter from other tables echoed faintly in the background, but at our table, the tension had thickened like smoke.
I swirled my glass slowly, letting the ruby-red wine catch the light.
> "Let's just say… when the world changes, those with the right tools will survive. And I intend to have them all."
For a moment, Ryoichi stared at me, searching for answers in my expression. He found none.
Finally, he leaned back, exhaling softly.
> "Your order… I'll take it. Free delivery, no profit. I can arrange everything. But…" His eyes locked onto mine, sharp with curiosity. "Someday, Kane—you'll tell me what you're really preparing for."
I let the silence hang for a moment, then leaned forward with a faint smile.
> "The day you deliver every vehicle I've ordered… that's the day I'll tell you why I need them."
Ryoichi's eyes sharpened, a spark of excitement flashing through them. He wasn't just intrigued now—he was hooked.
He straightened his tie, tone firm.
> "Then I'll make it happen. Give me seven days, Kane. Seven days, and I'll have every type of vehicle delivered to your mansion. Cars, trucks, construction machines, even tankers. Everything you asked for."
I nodded slowly, savoring another sip of wine.
> "Good. But you'll want payment first, won't you?"
His lips curved into a professional smile, though I could sense the tension beneath it.
> "Naturally. An order of this scale… billions in value. Even I can't move that much without advance capital."
I leaned back, speaking casually, as if the sum meant nothing.
> "Then come to my mansion tomorrow. I'll give you the money you need."
Ryoichi blinked, stunned for just a moment before recovering.
> "Tomorrow…? You mean to say you can produce that much money overnight?"
I set my glass down and met his gaze steadily.
> "I told you—I have plenty. You just worry about keeping your word. Seven days."
He exhaled slowly, a smile tugging at his lips.
> "You're insane… but I like it. Consider it done."
The rest of the dinner passed in polite conversation, but I could see it in his eyes—the calculations, the hunger, the endless questions. He would spend the night wondering who I was, what I was planning, and how I had the resources to make demands like this.
And I would let him wonder.