Chapter 3: The Gilded Cage.

After no less than 30 minutes of driving, the driver finally stopped at the Lotte Hotel.The three men got out of the black Mazda 3. Eiji buttoned up his dark red jacket before running a hand through his tousled black hair.

The hotel was colorful; the ceiling chandelier dominated the room, and the richly gilded decor combined with the white marble gave an effect far too golden and colorful for Eiji's taste.

As they entered, the receptionist, a young man in his twenties, spotted them. He immediately recognized Eiji and inclined his head.

"Welcome, Eiji. I hope you enjoy your stay here. What can I do for you today?" he asked, pretending not to notice the blood stains on his tattooed hand, Big G's blood from earlier. The young man had heard about the Satô, and his manager had warned him early on that in their presence, he should not question anything, unless he wanted to find himself at the bottom of a ravine.

Eiji was amused by his exaggerated politeness and feigned ignorance. It made him want to tease him a little.

"Let's just say so. Will you give me the keys to my suite? And hurry up, or I'll kick your ass," he said, looking very serious, his dark almond-shaped eyes fixed on him.

The young man's Adam's apple bobbed.

"S-sure!" he stammered, fumbling for his keys.

Toma bit his lower lip to stifle a chuckle; this clearly wasn't the first time Eiji had taken sadistic pleasure in scaring people for the sake of it. Jamal remained stoic, but upon closer inspection, his lips curled, betraying his own amusement.

The poor young man finally found them; his forehead sweating, he handed him the keys with a trembling hand.

"You took your time," he mocked, snatching them from his hands. The young man flinched.

Turning on his heel, he headed for the famous carpeted staircase of the Lotte New York Palace and climbed it.

Toma and Jamal followed close behind him, and Toma, unable to resist any longer, burst out laughing.

"Boss! You're an asshole! He was about to piss himself!" He wheezed in laughter, slapping Eiji on the shoulder while holding his stomach, barely walking upright.

Jamal sighed.

"For once, I agree with him..."

Unable to resist any longer, he burst out laughing too, both standing behind Eiji as he continued down the hall. The two idiots clutched their stomachs, dying of laughter, and were judged by an old couple passing by.

Eiji groaned as he reached the door of his suite. The 'Signature Palace' suite.

He opened it.

"I'll leave you both outside!" he grumbled. As he entered, he took off his jacket with a sigh, revealing his holster pressed tightly against his muscular back. He removed it with a sigh of relief.

The two idiots finally entered, and Toma whistled as he looked around appreciatively.

"Oh, damn! The big boss meant business with your room."

The 'Palace Signature' suite features a vast living room with a large dining table for eight, a wet bar, and a marble bathroom. The spacious master bedroom has a king-size bed with luxurious linens, a large desk, a walk-in closet, and a marble bathroom. Eiji's father, Ren, wasn't kidding. Indeed. This hotel was known for its business-like atmosphere, but it might have been too much for him alone. For Eiji, it was nothing more than a gilded cage.

"Yeah," Eiji said, throwing his holster on the dining table before sitting down on one of the couches.

Toma threw himself on the opposite side of his, Jamal sat down more gently next to him.

"Now what? Are we going to see the prostitutes or what?!" he asked, frowning. Jamal snickered.

"No," Eiji began, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"Tonight, I'm staying here, you can enjoy your evening."

Toma didn't need to be asked twice and got up from the couch, dragging a grumpy Jamal out of the room. He shouted by the door, "We'll be back soon, boss, enjoy the rest of your evening!" And they disappeared.

At that same moment, Eiji's phone vibrated in his pocket, Hiroshi's name appeared, his lieutenant. He picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Boss, we found something on that woman." He began, and Eiji felt his usually cold heart race, not with adrenaline or anger. For the first time ever, it was something he couldn't name, which was more dangerous and more frightening.

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