Splash."
Conditioned reflex.
Chuta almost dropped the bottle, Makise forgot to chew the meat in his mouth, and Shun Izaki and Kaji suddenly straightened their backs.
The five people who were sitting loosely suddenly jumped up.
Who else could that voice be but Ryuzaki Makoto's?
"Boss!"
"President!"
The five people moved in perfect unison, leaning forward, bending their waists at a ninety-degree angle, and bowing their heads deeply.
Ryuzaki Makoto stood still, his gaze sweeping over the row of men who bowed respectfully.
The hands that were about to wave froze slightly in mid-air.
His pupils were somewhat dilated.
This scene should have been the most satisfying sight for him as a person in a position of power.
But for some reason, in an instant, a strange sense of alienation struck his chest.
The feeling of being in a daze was fleeting.
Ryuzaki Makoto shook his head, forcibly banishing that slight discomfort from his mind.
He took a deep breath, put on a faint smile, raised his arm, and shook the two heavy plastic bags he was carrying.
The bottles and jars in the bag clattered together, making a crisp, clinking sound.
"I passed by a convenience store, bought some snowflake beef, and also grabbed a few bottles of sake."
"There must be a place for me here, right?"
Chungta was the first to react.
His face immediately plastered with a fawning smile, he bent his waist even lower, and then jogged a couple of steps to greet her.
"Boss, what are you saying!"
"Even if there's no place for me, there can't be no place for you."
Chuta swiftly snatched the bag from Ryuzaki Makoto's hand and tossed it onto the grass nearby.
Then, he quickly took off his bespoke suit jacket, and without even glancing at the dust and gravel on the ground, spread it directly on the most sheltered open space.
He even reached out and patted his clothes to smooth out the wrinkles.
"Boss, please sit down. It's warm here."
Ryuzaki Makoto looked at the designer suit that was being used as a cushion on the ground, said nothing politely, and sat down in a very natural and generous manner.
With Ryuzaki Shin joining the scene, the atmosphere on set inexplicably changed.
"Quickly! Add more charcoal! The fire's too low!"
"Where's the meat? Bring out the marbled beef that the boss brought!"
Serizawa directed the operation, grabbing a pair of tongs and stuffing several pieces of new charcoal into the bottom of the oven.
Sparks flew out, and the heat rose again.
Makise hurriedly unpacked the package and laid the bright red beef slices one by one on the grill.
Oils come into contact with high temperatures.
"Sizzle—"
White smoke rose, and a fragrant aroma filled the air.
Ryuzaki Makoto watched the others busy themselves, then reached for the oil brush beside him, wanting to brush some oil onto the slices of meat.
"Smack."
A hand suddenly reached out from the side and snatched the oil brush first.
Yuji Tokaji is holding a brush.
"Boss, you can't do that."
"We'll do these rough jobs. There's a lot of smoke, so you can just sit and wait to eat."
Ryuzaki's hand was suspended in mid-air.
That hand seemed somewhat superfluous.
He watched Tokaji's profile as he focused on applying the oil, his fingers twitched, then slowly withdrew and rested on his knees.
"Fill it up, fill it up!"
On the other side, Chuta had already unscrewed the cap of the sake bottle.
He held the bottle with both hands and carefully poured the wine into the glass in front of Ryuzaki Makoto.
The wine was poured just to the bottom rim of the glass, without spilling a single drop, demonstrating the "skill" he had honed at business drinking parties.
Chuta held the cup in both hands and placed it on the flat ground in front of Ryuzaki Makoto.
"Boss, the wine."
Ryuzaki glanced down at the glass of wine, then looked up and surveyed the five people sitting around him, maintaining a subtle distance at all times.
Everyone sat upright, even those holding barbecue tongs maintained a proper posture as if they were in a meeting.
Ryuzaki Makoto's lips twitched slightly, revealing a smile.
But that smile seemed a little forced.
He picked up his wine glass.
"There won't be many rules tonight, and we won't be discussing business."
"Have a drink."
Upon hearing this, Serizawa, Chuta, Tokaji, and the others hurriedly raised their respective sake cups.
Extend your arms straight.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Several glasses collided in mid-air.
The cup stopped at my lips.
No one drank first.
Five pairs of eyes were fixed on Ryuzaki Makoto.
Ryuzaki Makoto tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing, and downed the drink in one gulp.
Only then did Serizawa and the others dare to open their mouths and gulp down the drinks.
Put down your wine glass.
Ryuzaki Makoto lowered his eyelids, his expression somewhat somber.
He now knew what discomfort was called.
That's called class.
That's called status.
Once upon a time, it was on this same playground, and it was these same few people.
Back then, they fought tooth and nail for the title of the Pinnacle of Lily of the Valley.
Back then, Ryuzaki was truly the boss, the strongest who could defeat everyone.
But when everyone sits together drinking and eating meat, Serizawa will snatch the last piece of meat from his plate, Chuta will get drunk and hook his arm around his neck and slur his words, and Tokaji will make sarcastic remarks about his taste.
Back then, respect was an acknowledgment of the strong, and it was imbued with passion and brotherhood.
But now.
As the True Dragon Society dominates this neighborhood, as their power of life and death grows stronger, and as those who stand in their way fall one by one.
Power has erected an invisible wall between them.
This wall turned "brothers" into "ruler and subject".
Chungta and the others feared and respected him.
Even if they were still willing to die for him and remained loyal to him, the fear and awe that came from the depths of their souls had completely extinguished their spontaneity.
Those in positions of power are ultimately lonely.
This is the price of becoming a "king".
If you want to gain supreme power, you must exchange it for ordinary happiness.
If you want everyone to kneel at your feet, don't expect anyone to lie on the grass with you and watch the stars.
The higher you climb, the colder it gets...
The charcoal in the stove burned, occasionally emitting a soft popping sound.
"Crackling sound."
Apart from that, it was completely silent.
No one spoke.
Chungta dared not tell any more dirty jokes.
Serizawa stopped complaining.
Tokaji has also lost that coldness.
They mechanically flipped the grilled meat, placing the best cuts onto Ryuzaki Makoto's plate.
Ryuzaki Makoto didn't say anything either.
He mechanically picked up the meat, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
The meat is very fragrant; it's top-quality Wagyu beef that melts in your mouth.
But to Ryuzaki Makoto, it tasted like chewing wax.
He reached for the bottle and poured himself a full glass.
One cup.
Two cups.
Three cups.
No one dared to urge anyone to drink, and no one dared to drink with them.
They could only watch helplessly as their leader poured glass after glass of alcohol down his throat; the oppressive atmosphere made everyone feel like they couldn't breathe.
A bottle of sake was quickly emptied.
Ryuzaki slammed the empty bottle aside.
"Thump."
The sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet night.
He put down his chopsticks and rested his elbows on his knees.
Slowly, he lifted his eyelids.
The alcohol had made his eyes slightly red, but they were unusually clear, though somewhat tired.
His gaze slowly swept across the five people sitting opposite him from left to right.
Serizawa.
Tadashi.
Tokaji.
Makise.
Shun Izaki.
This was his original team.
Ryuzaki Makoto let out a long sigh.
The white mist dissipated in the cold air.
This sigh is a lament for the carefree years of the past.
Finally, he spoke.
His voice was deep and even a little hoarse.
"Serizawa, Tadata, Tokaji, Makise, Izaki Shun."
He read out each person's name one by one.
"You guys..."
Have you ever complained about me?