Chapter 238: Stirring Up Trouble

Shinjuku, located west of Tokyo’s central districts and about 6 kilometers from Ginza, is one of the city’s major bustling areas. Within it lies Kabukicho, the world’s densest red-light district, often referred to as the “Sleepless Town.” It is the largest entertainment district in Japan and the Far East, with over 300,000 visitors daily and even more during holidays.

At 10 PM, in a bar on the eastern edge of the entertainment street, a man in a leather jacket with stubble on his chin was forcefully holding onto a scantily dressed woman. Nearby, a young man in a branded suit was clutching his face, looking helplessly at the two.

“Let go of me! If you don’t, I’ll call for help!” the woman shouted in terror, struggling hard, but she couldn’t free herself from the man’s vice-like grip.

Reeking of alcohol and with his face flushed red, the man pointed at the young man holding his face and laughed mockingly. “You think that useless wimp can help you? Forget him! Let’s keep drinking. Afterward, I’ll take you to a fun place.”

The woman, her voice trembling and with tears, pleaded, “Please let me go! He’s my boyfriend. We had a fight, and I only approached you to make him jealous. I won’t do it again—please let me go!”

The man, enraged, yanked the woman into his arms and grabbed her chin with his left hand, glaring at her. “You dare mess with me? Do you even know who I am? You stupid bitch, whether you like it or not, you’re staying with me tonight until I’m satisfied.”

“Please, I’m sorry—I won’t do it again…” The woman began crying in fear as the man’s ferocious demeanor scared her to the core.

“You… you better let her go, or I’ll call the police!” the young man stammered, trembling.

“You spineless wimp, shut up!” the man shouted, grabbing a bottle and smashing it against the young man’s forehead.

“Ah!” The young man couldn’t dodge in time. Blood streamed down his face as he collapsed to the ground.

The onlookers gasped in shock at the horrific scene.

Ignoring the commotion, the man began dragging the woman toward a private room in the bar. As he approached, the crowd quickly made way, no one daring to intervene.

“Please, let me go! Please!” the woman sobbed, struggling in vain.

The man paid her no heed and continued dragging her along. Finally, the bar’s manager, accompanied by three burly security guards, stepped in to block his path.

The middle-aged manager in a suit surveyed the chaos and coldly addressed the man, “Sir, causing trouble here will get you nowhere. Let go of the lady and leave immediately, or we won’t hold back.”

The man glanced at the manager, then suddenly waved dismissively. “Fine, since you’re asking so nicely, I’ll—” 

Before he could finish, he abruptly kicked the manager in the stomach. 

“Who do you think you are to interfere in my business?” he snarled as the manager crumpled to the ground in pain.

The three security guards hesitated for a moment before rushing at the man.

The man threw the woman toward the guards with great force. Instinctively, they stepped aside to avoid her. In that instant, the man charged at the guard on the left, breaking his nose with a punch before he could react.

The other two guards quickly closed in. One of them kicked at the man, but instead of dodging, the man grabbed the guard’s leg tightly with both hands. With a sickening crack, he twisted and broke the leg.

As the guard collapsed, writhing in agony, the man took a punch to his back from the third guard. 

Spinning around, the man delivered a sharp elbow strike to the guard’s waist, sending him staggering to the side. Seizing the advantage, the man pounded on the guard’s head relentlessly. Once the guard fell, he kicked him several times, leaving him incapacitated.

“Mess with me, will you? Go to hell!” the man roared, spitting on the unconscious guard before turning to look for the woman—only to find she was gone.

Realizing she had escaped, the man was furious. He stormed over to the manager, who was lying on the ground, and hoisted him up by his collar, glaring menacingly. “Who told you to meddle in my business?” he growled, punching the manager in the stomach.

“Ugh!” The manager curled up in pain, like a shrimp being boiled.

The man slapped him several more times before tossing him back onto the floor. 

After cursing a few more times, the man approached the bar’s liquor shelves, grabbed two bottles of expensive whiskey, and swaggered out of the bar.

As he looted the shelves, the bartender cowered in silence, trembling in a corner. None of the onlookers dared to speak, fearing they’d draw his wrath.

After the drunken man left the bar, a middle-aged man in an elegant suit, exuding the demeanor of a gentleman, suddenly asked a waiter, “Do you know that man? Who is he?”

The waiter replied, “I don’t know. I’ve worked here for a long time, but this is the first time I’ve seen him. Excuse me, I need to check on the manager.” With that, he hurried to the manager lying on the floor. It wasn’t just him—other waitstaff also rushed over, clearly recognizing this as an excellent opportunity to curry favor with the manager.

The gentlemanly man then calmly walked out of the bar.

By this time, the man who had just caused the scene was strolling down the bustling street, taking swigs from a bottle of expensive whiskey he’d opened, cursing loudly. When passersby glanced at him curiously, he would glare at them or hurl insults, causing them to hastily look away and scurry off. Seeing their frightened reactions, he burst into laughter.

Suddenly, a luxurious sedan pulled up at the curb in front of him. The elegantly dressed man from the bar stepped out of the car’s backseat.

Unlike the other passersby who avoided the drunk troublemaker, the gentlemanly man blocked his path. “Excuse me, sir. Could I have a word with you?”

“What do you want?” the drunken man asked, visibly annoyed.

“I have a habit of befriending capable individuals. After seeing your skills in the bar, I’d like to get to know you better. Do you have time to talk?” the man replied.

“Didn’t expect anyone in Japan to recognize talent anymore. Thought the place was just full of blind fools and cowards,” the troublemaker said with smug satisfaction.

“My car is right here. If you don’t mind, let’s go somewhere more comfortable to chat,” the gentleman invited with a gesture.

After giving him a look, the drunken man swaggered toward the sedan.

Inside the moving car, the gentleman asked, “May I know your name?”

“Yagami Iori. And you?” the man answered while inspecting the luxurious interior of the car.

“My name is Daimon Nagatomo. I’m a businessman. With skills like yours, Yagami-san, may I ask what you do for a living?”

Yagami glanced at him and began recounting his background.

Yagami Iori had joined a mercenary group in Bulgaria at 18 years old. His unit frequently took on assignments in war-torn regions worldwide. By now, although not yet 40, he had traveled to many parts of the globe.

When the mercenary group disbanded, Yagami returned to Japan. However, his gambling habit, acquired abroad, left him with little savings. Confident that his talents would be recognized, he initially expected to find work with ease. But after two years without significant opportunities and dwindling funds, his optimism had faded—details he conveniently left out when speaking to Daimon.

Daimon nodded. “So, you’re a professional mercenary. No wonder your skills are exceptional. I assume you’re proficient with firearms?”

“Of course! A mercenary who can’t handle guns wouldn’t last long. Not to brag, but during the Congolese rebellion a few years back, I took out the rebel leader with a sniper rifle, saving my entire team, not to mention the president and his officials. Another time in Haiti, we were completely surrounded, but I broke through to call in reinforcements, saving everyone.” Yagami’s voice grew more animated as he boasted.

Daimon listened intently, showing no sign of irritation. Instead, he appeared genuinely interested.

Encouraged by Daimon’s attentiveness, Yagami enthusiastically recounted more tales of his “glorious” past—stories whose truth only he knew.

Eventually, Daimon brought Yagami to the most upscale nightclub in Kabukicho.

Surrounded by scantily clad beauties, Yagami’s eyes almost popped out of his head.

In a private VIP room, Yagami, in high spirits, drank heavily while groping the two hostesses who accompanied him. Daimon, maintaining his gentlemanly demeanor, refrained from engaging with any women and instead sipped his drink while chatting with Yagami.

After over an hour of revelry, Yagami was visibly tipsy. Laughing heartily, he said to Daimon, “Daimon…san, you’re a good man. A good man! From now on, whatever you need, just say the word, and I’ll help!”

“Well, thank you in advance. By the way, here’s my business card. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.” Daimon handed him a card.

Yagami glanced at it briefly before tucking it into his pocket and returning to chatting and drinking with the hostesses.

Daimon raised his glass, took a sip, and smiled as he watched Yagami.