"Miss Hanako, why are you here?!"
Everyone in the eting room was stunned by her sudden arrival. Matsudaira, despite his initial shock, was the quickest to react—imdiately completing the process of standing up that he had only half-finished monts ago.
In front of this lady, there was no such thing as speaking while seated.
"Why is it Miss Hanako…?"
Though the others were slower to respond, they too all rose from their seats, eyes locked on her as she stepped forward in her wooden geta sandals. The closer she ca, the more their spines bent in silent deference.
Hanako said nothing. She didn't acknowledge any of them—not even Kenichiro, who had also risen as she passed. She simply walked past him and calmly made her way to the head of the table.
For those peeking at her movents from bowed positions, it was unmistakable—Hanako had seated herself in the chair that should have belonged to Michiko Arasaka.
"We'll begin the eting. I've arrived."
Her words were calm and simple, but more than enough to silence anyone thinking of speaking up.
No further explanation was needed.
Michiko Arasaka might not have co, but Hanako Arasaka was here. That alone carried the sa weight.
As one of the few direct heirs of the Arasaka family, Hanako had every right to sit at that table—and every right to lead the eting.
Everyone slowly rose from their bows and resud their seats, guided silently by her gaze.
Matsudaira sat down with noticeable hesitation. His posture, once animated, had gone stiff and awkward.
"Please, take your seat, Matsudaira-san."
Kenichiro's voice ca from beside him. When Matsudaira looked over, he saw not the smiling Kenichiro from earlier—but one wearing a different kind of expression.
Still smiling… but not.
A smile that wasn't a smile.
For so reason, that phrase echoed through Matsudaira's mind like a warning bell. A cold sweat began to form on his back.
"Heh…"
He forced out a chuckle and sat down as if nothing had happened, but his biomonitor was already firing off warnings:
"Alert: Heart rate exceeds normal paraters. Please calm your mind and body."
"Warning: Heart rate has surpassed your historical maximum. Recomnding relaxation protocol 3. Begin deep breath—"
"I know!"
Matsudaira ntally snapped at the machine and shut off the monitor. Accepting the current reality was no longer optional.
So what was the reality?
Michiko hadn't shown up—Hanako had.
Why? Could she have discovered sothing?
Impossible. He had covered his tracks carefully. He had only symbolically placed certain materials on the table. The ones who had actually stolen data and carried out attack operations were hawks. If he was guilty of anything, it was rely poor supervision of a subordinate—who had already been eliminated. There was no way this could be traced back to him.
His pulse pounded wildly. A deep nausea welled up inside him. It felt like opening his mouth might result in vomiting.
Stay calm… stay calm…
He chanted the words internally. Though his limbs were freezing, his face remained neutral, his breathing slow and asured.
"Miss Hanako, have you reviewed the agenda for today's eting?"
As Matsudaira composed himself, the other white-suited vice president—surprised but still composed—stepped up. After glancing briefly at the unusually silent Matsudaira, he addressed Hanako:
"Would you like to begin with the first topic?"
This wasn't sothing a departnt director could ask. And since Matsudaira wasn't stepping up, the task fell to him.
"There's no need. I'm already familiar with the agenda."
"I see."
The elder VP nodded.
"Then I'll begin with the first item. Recently, a Militech weapons production facility was uncovered in Alberta, Cana—"
"Please hold off on that matter for now."
Hanako cut him off mid-sentence.
Sitting straight-backed, her hands resting calmly on her knees, she offered a faint, polite apology:
"Before we proceed, I have sothing to report."
"A special agenda item?"
This wasn't uncommon—Michiko had done the sa in past etings. The VP halted the floating display in front of him and turned his attention to her.
At Hanako's signal, Kenichiro slowly rose from his seat.
For so reason, seeing Kenichiro rise again made Matsudaira's heart race. A terrible, ominous feeling surged through him—and before he could pinpoint it—
Kenichiro began:
"I would like to announce sothing."
He scanned the table slowly, deliberately.
"One among us has sold Arasaka intel to Militech. A traitor sits at this table."
"A traitor?!"
The room erupted. The executives exchanged looks of disbelief and horror.
"A traitor among us?!"
Soone at this level—collaborating with Militech?
Matsudaira's heart pounded even harder. But on his face, he wore the sa expression of stunned disbelief as the rest.
As he looked around, he began silently reaching out to contacts.
If things were compromised… contingency plans needed to start.
"A traitor in contact with Militech…"
The elder VP scanned the faces at the table, finding no obvious signs of panic. Turning back to Kenichiro, he asked:
"Kenichi-kun, who are you referring to—?"
"We are ready."
Kenichiro didn't respond directly. He turned to Hanako instead:
"We await your order, Miss Hanako."
Order… for what?
Matsudaira's hand moved subtly toward the concealed pistol beneath the table. Hanako gave a slight nod—and then looked to her side with a smile.
She called out a na most at the table didn't recognize.
Not Kenichiro.
Not Chiyo.
She said:
"Karl."
"Mm. I'm here."
As heads turned toward the voice, Hanako gave the command:
"Do it."
At the sound of her voice, Matsudaira pulled the hidden pistol from beneath the table, a vicious snarl forming on his face—
"I—"
He never finished the sentence.
A single hand closed around his head—fingers splayed, iron-strong.
"Got it."
Karl answered simply.
CRACK.
The vice president—second only to Michiko in all of Arasaka's Arican hierarchy—fell with the sound of shattering bone.
Even the powerful fall like any other.
.
.
.
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