He pulled the handle. Inside, the light didn't just flicker—it struggled. A half-empty jar of grey pickles sat next to a lonely, dried lemon.
On the top shelf, a single glass bottle of milk stood in a puddle of yellowed water. The shelves were covered in a thin layer of stain.
He picked up the bottle. The glass was barely cold. As he tilted it, he noticed the liquid inside didn't move like milk; it was thick, with white curd sticking to the glass.
"Ugh," he muttered, twisting the cap. A sharp smell hit his nose instantly. He held his bread, pulling his head back. "Yuna, we've got a problem. It's completely stale."
Mrs. Kamitani paused, looking over her shoulder. "Are you sure? It was bought just a few days ago. Check it again, Ayato. Maybe it's just the cap."
Mr. Kamitani took a brave second sniff, then coughed slightly, waving a hand in front of his face. "Unless cows have started producing vinegar, this is definitely rotten. It's sourer than Shido's mood on a Monday morning."
Mrs. Kamitani let out a small "Hmph" and walked over. She took the bottle, leaned in, and her face immediately twisted in disgust. "Oh, goodness... you're right. It's terrible."
She set the bottle down on the counter with a heavy clack. Mr. Kamitani looked at her, his playfulness fading into real worry.
"Yuna... look at this fridge. Look at this milk," he said, his voice dropping. "How can you expect to live here? No fresh food, the appliances are dying... it's miserable. You'll get sick."
Mrs. Kamitani looked at the rotten milk, then at the dirty floor. Her resolve faded for a second. "I... I'll manage. I can't leave her, Ayato. I just can't."
She went back to the pot, stirring faster now. Mr. Kamitani watched her, his heart heavy.
"If the milk is that important for your 'Masterpiece Curry,' I'll send Shido to the store," he said, trying to brighten the mood. "
He turned toward the door just as the floorboards outside creaked.
"I heard that!" Shido shouted, stomping into the kitchen. He wasn't crying anymore; he looked like his usual, annoyed self. "I'm not a delivery dog, Dad!"
Mr. Kamitani grinned. "Ah, Shido! Perfect timing. You're like a superhero but instead of a cape, you carry a grocery bag."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his leather wallet, and handed Shido a crisp note. "Go to the convenience store. Get a fresh carton of milk for your mother. And," he leaned in, whispering loudly, "buy some chocolates and snacks for yourself and the girls. Shiyi looked like she was about to faint from hunger."
Mrs. Kamitani smiled, looking at Shido like he was her own flesh and blood. "Yes, get something nice for Tamiko and Shiyi, too. They're working so hard."
Shido snatched the money, stuffing it into his pocket while grumbling. "Yeah, yeah. I'm basically the maid of this family. I hope you guys appreciate my sacrifice." He started to turn away, then stopped. "Oh, by the way, Dad... there's a guy outside. He's asking for you."
Mr. Kamitani raised an eyebrow. "For me?"
"Yeah," Shido said, already turning toward the door. He paused, looking back with a playful smirk. "He looks like he walked straight out of a high-budget bodyguard movie."
Mr. Kamitani stopped, the knife still resting on the cutting board. "A bodyguard?"
"I'm super serious," Shido chuckled. "Big guy, black suit, and dark glasses—even though there isn't a bit of sun out. He looks way too professional for this street."
He gave a mock salute as he stepped out.
"Try not to get kidnapped, okay? I'm way too tired to come save you today."
Shido let out a sharp laugh and went out. Mr. Kamitani watched him go, a small smile on his face. 'That kid... his mouth is faster than his brain.'
"I'll be right back, Yuna," Mr. Kamitani said, patting his wife's shoulder.
"Be careful," she murmured.
He stepped out of the Amamiya house. The humid afternoon air hit him, smelling of dry dust and exhaust. Shido wasn't kidding.
Standing by the rusted front gate was a man who looked like a pillar of shadow. His black suit was perfectly pressed, not a single wrinkle in sight.
'He really does look like a bodyguard,' Mr. Kamitani thought, amused that he and his son had the exact same thought. 'Maybe it's a family trait.'
"Can I help you?" Mr. Kamitani aske .
The man didn't move his head, but he straightened into a stiff, respectful posture. "I am not the one who wishes to speak, sir. My Master is waiting for a word with you."
The man gestured toward the end of the narrow, cracked street.
Parked there, shining like a polished pearl against the gray, crumbling houses, was a White Mercedes that felt out of place in the silence of the neighborhood. The sunlight hit the shiny metal, nearly blinding him.
Mr. Kamitani's smile died. 'A Mercedes in a place like this?' he thought, his lawyer instincts kicking in. 'I don't have a good feeling about this.'
Mr. Kamitani walked down the cracked sidewalk, his shoes crunching on the small stones. The closer he got to the White Mercedes, the more he felt the cold, heavy atmosphere surrounding it. The engine's sound was smooth and expensive, a sound that didn't belong in a place where people struggled to buy fresh milk.
Mr. Kamitani stopped just as the back window opened. The burst of cold air from the car's interior felt like a slap against the humid afternoon heat.
As the glass vanished, he found himself staring into a pair of sharp, arrogant eyes. He didn't need an introduction. He had seen that face on the news and in business journals for years.
Seijurou Kanzaki.
Mr. Kamitani felt a feeling of genuine shock. His grip tightened on the edge of the door frame, but he forced his face to remain a mask of professional calm. 'The CEO of Kanzaki Corp... in a place where the air smells like garbage?'
Seijurou didn't smile. He looked at Mr. Kamitani with the uninterested curiosity of a man looking at an insect. "So," Seijurou said, his voice smooth and cold as polished stone. "The legendary 'Shield of the Court' spends his weekends in the slums. I expected someone who actually looked like they had money."
Mr. Kamitani's eyes narrowed. The shock was already being replaced by the sharp, savage wit he was known for.
"And I expected the great Seijurou Kanzaki to have better things to do than sit in a running car here," Mr. Kamitani replied, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm. "This neighborhood clearly doesn't meet your money standards."
Seijurou didn't even blink. He just stared back with that cold gaze.
"What's the matter?" Mr. Kamitani continued, leaning in slightly. "Did your driver take a wrong turn? Or did you just come here to see what it's like to breathe the same air as the common people?"
Seijurou's expression didn't change but the air in the car seemed to get even colder. "Watch your tongue, Kamitani. I know exactly where I am. And I know exactly who you are. I've heard quite a bit about your son's... disturbing influence on mine."
Mr. Kamitani let out a short, humorless laugh. "If you're referring to Kento, he's the only reason your son knows how to laugh. But I doubt you came here to discuss parenting styles."
Seijurou pressed a button, and the heavy door clicked open just an inch. "It's too hot to talk on the sidewalk. Come in. The air is filtered."
Mr. Kamitani didn't move. He stood where he was, his ground on the cracked pavement, his hands deep in his pockets.
"I prefer the air out here, Mr. Kanzaki," he replied. His voice was flat and steady. "It's more honest than this car. If you have something to say, say it now while the door is open. I'm not getting in."
The air in the street suddenly felt heavy. The huge bodyguard stepped forward, his shadow falling over Mr. Kamitani. He reached toward his jacket, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
"The Master gave you an invitation," the big man growled. "Get in the car. Now."
Mr. Kamitani didn't even blink. He didn't look at the bodyguard at all. He kept his eyes locked on Seijurou in the backseat.
"I've dealt with much scarier people than you, Mr. Kanzaki," Mr. Kamitani said coolly. "Your dog is wasting my time."
A dry, sharp laugh came from the shadows of the Mercedes.
Seijurou finally looked up, appearing genuinely amused. He waved a hand, and the bodyguard immediately stepped back.
"Stop it," Seijurou laughed. "You're wasting your breath. This man has spent his life staring down criminals. He's not going to be scared by a man in a suit."
Seijurou turned his full attention back to the lawyer. He stared at him, testing Mr. Kamitani's patience, waiting for a crack in his armor.
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