Fanning the Flames
In truth, the underworld skirmishes never escalate to full-blown chaos.
No matter how much the government or Hunter Association turns a blind eye, there's always a line that can't be crossed. Once it's breached, public authorities like the government or Association have no choice but to step in.
Knowing this full well, neither Zhang Wei's faction nor Yamamoto's expedition had resorted to outright killing or all-out war yet.
The government and Association were staying quiet for now, their own hands dirty, but everyone knew they were watching with bated breath, ready to intervene at the slightest misstep.
Any spark could turn their near-complete takeover of the underworld to ash.
If this were their home turf, they could have smoothed it over easily. But South Korea was foreign soil to them.
Things might change if the feud boiled over later, but for now, hunters from both nations kept it to petty clashes.
As the two sides eyed each other warily, avoiding direct confrontation, Toda Shūichi—under Nix's orders—made his move.
Late at night, Toda moved silently.
A quiet alley not far from the labyrinth's bustling district.
A border zone wedged between territories seized early by Zhang Wei and Yamamoto's expedition.
The frontline, where invisible tensions simmered constantly.
Toda strolled through the empty alley leisurely.
He'd been warned from above to tread carefully in border areas, but he showed no hesitation.
Something far more important than Yamamoto brothers or higher-ups.
'Master ordered me to provoke Zhang Wei's side.'
His master wanted Zhang Wei's hunters to strike first at Yamamoto's men.
And not just that—he wanted Yamamoto's side so enraged they couldn't hold back, even if it meant sacrificing every last puppet.
Toda glanced back mid-thought.
Three former comrades trailed him like shadows, silent.
No—puppets that used to be comrades.
"Watanabe-san."
"Suzuki-san."
"Sato-san."
No response to his soft calls.
Just vacant stares into empty space, eyes unfocused.
Obedient dolls that couldn't act or think on their own.
Toda gazed at them briefly—the same comrades who'd laughed and joked with him not long ago.
No emotions stirred.
They'd been lively together just days prior, but seeing them as lifeless puppets? Nothing.
Toda had always been ruthless working the underworld, but as a human, some attachment should linger. Yet he felt none.
'No—I've been made not to feel it?'
The current Toda Shūichi was the same yet utterly different from before.
Anything not tied to his great master? Irrelevant.
He didn't care.
He vaguely realized something was off with the situation—with himself—but couldn't label it wrong.
Knowing it was abnormal yet not perceiving it as such.
Absurd contradiction, but Toda shrugged it off.
He was fine.
"...Let's move."
After a moment staring at his old comrades, Toda stepped forward.
The obedient puppets followed silently.
'Master said we could discard every puppet. There must be reason.'
After the last incident, Yamamoto's expedition—now at odds with upper echelons—needed a major event and justification to mobilize fully.
Nothing better than their comrades dying by Chinese hands.
'Use the puppets to bait the Chinese hunters, lead to their deaths at Chinese hands.'
A way to ignite both sides at once.
Toda glanced back again.
The three puppets trailed quietly still.
"...Watanabe-san."
"...Suzuki-san."
"...Sato-san."
He called their names once more.
No reply.
Just the same blank stares.
Toda fell silent at their unchanging doll-like responses.
"......"
After watching them a beat longer, he whipped around and resumed walking. The puppets followed slowly.
Still, no feelings for them.
Anything not his master? Meaningless.
Definitely.
It would be fine.
They would fulfill master's orders perfectly.
Marching on silently, Toda remained oblivious to his own face twisting in agony.
A building in Seoul's Gangnam district.
Purchased early by Yamamoto's expedition for this Korean venture.
From the top-floor conference room, an unexpected shout echoed.
"Damn it...! Have the Chinese lost their minds!? Daring to touch us!? Strutting just because that worthless dog backs them!?"
BAM!
The conference table shattered under a slammed fist, but no one spoke.
Not a peep.
The one venting fury was none other than Yamamoto Kazuma of the Yamamoto brothers.
Even the only one who could rein him in—twin brother Yamamoto Kazuki—didn't admonish him.
Kazuki, usually the voice of caution, seethed too.
Unlike hot-headed Kazuma, he stayed coldly composed, hiding his rage.
Though his leaking aura betrayed him.
Ordinary folk would choke under the twins' pressure alone.
Fortunately, those present were high-rank hunters, weathering it with relative calm.
Relatively, that is. Even elites couldn't fully shrug off the enraged twins' might.
Only a few S-ranks remained unfazed.
Chief among them: Ichijo and Yoshida.
Second-in-commands of Kazuma and Kazuki's factions, respectively.
They clashed often due to loyalties and personalities—same here.
Between fuming Kazuma and arms-crossed, eyes-closed Kazuki, Ichijo spoke first.
"We must punish them immediately! Show those rabid dogs what happens when they cross us!"
Several nodded vigorously at his impassioned cry.
Including Kazuma at the head table.
"Exactly! Revenge is obvious! Three men down in one day! No sane bastard would pull this!"
"Precisely! They've all gone mad! Entrust the fallen's vengeance to me! I'll crush them so they never rise again!"
With boss Kazuma agreeing, Ichijo seized the moment.
Springing up, he declared fervently. Kazuma nodded firmly.
"Good. Ichijo! I entrust it t—"
"Wait. Hold on."
Kazuki cut in, who'd stayed silent till now.
Kazuma scowled at his twin.
"What, Kazuki? You wanna sit this out like last time!?"
Last incident, Kazuki had urged caution against Kazuma's push to act.
Meddlesome twin brother, always obstructing, never helping.
Surely peddling that useless caution again?
If he'd listened last time, this wouldn't have happened.
Irritation surging, Kazuma glared stone-faced.
"......"
Kazuki inwardly sighed at his brother's gaze.
Once heated, he ignored all else.
Feeling pity but hiding it, Kazuki cleared his throat.
"Acting rashly now is dangerous. Don't forget who's behind them."
"Damn it! Same crap again!? Because of that Chinese mutt, you want us to swallow this too!?"
"...Calm down, Kazuma. That mutt's an SS-rank hunter. If Wang Feng moves personally, our current forces can't stop him. The plan we've built would crumble."
"So we just take it lying down!? If we do, the Chinese will despise us more! And our men? Morale after watching comrades die while we sit!?"
Kazuki fell silent as Kazuma bellowed.
He agreed, to a point.
Last disappearance incident, passing it quietly had soured his faction's reputation.
Another fizzle? It'd hit rock bottom.
He couldn't just say endure.
But neither could he charge blindly like Kazuma.
Because behind Zhang Wei loomed Wang Feng.
Without him, Zhang Wei wouldn't dare.
SA-rank like them, but green compared to the twins.
They'd have handled him long ago sans the backer.
But Wang Feng—an SS-rank, one of only three left—cowed the entire Yamamoto expedition, Kazuki included.
Just thinking of him stressed Kazuki; he rubbed his furrowed brow.
A dull ache throbbed.
Misreading it, Kazuma scowled deeper at his frowning twin.
Kazuki realized the misunderstanding but had no time to correct.
Exhausted from stress, and before he could speak, Kazuma acted.
Scowling at his twin's gesture, Kazuma whipped his head away.
As if deciding to ignore him outright. Kazuki's composed face hardened.
Ignoring that, Kazuma barked.
"Ichijo!"
"...Yes!"
"Take your men and move now! Teach the Chinese a lesson! Show them Yamamoto Kazuma's wrath for daring to touch me!"
"Yes! Your orders shall be obeyed!"
Before Kazuki could stop him, Kazuma set it in motion.
Kazuki tried blocking Ichijo's hasty exit, but Kazuma intervened.
"Hey, Kazuma! Are you insane!?"
"The insane one's you, Kazuki!"
"One slip and it all falls apart—don't you get that!?"
"I know you're a cornered rat, trembling coward!"
"You...! Kazuma—!"
Kazuma sneered at his shouting twin.
Felt good landing a solid hit on the always-subtle belittler.
Grinning leisurely, he turned first.
Following Ichijo out, Kazuma left.
His loyalists slunk after, eyeing nervously.
Left behind: fuming Kazuki and his faction.
"Hoo... Yoshida."
"Yes, Kazuki-sama!"
Yoshida sprang up at the quiet call, having observed silently.
Kazuki spoke calmly to the disciplined man.
"Follow Ichijo."
"...Handle him?"
"...No need for infighting. Hide, watch quietly. Aid him if danger arises. Can't underestimate Chinese forces, after all."
"Understood!"
"Everything's at your discretion."
Kazuki added flatly, then departed.
Yoshida bowed to his back, then straightened.
"Everything to my judgment... Kazuki-sama's as cunning as ever."
Adjusting his glasses slowly, Yoshida smirked.
As mentioned, he and Ichijo clashed often.
Far from friendly.
Colleagues by organization only—practically enemies.
Underworld hunters like them, especially veterans like Yoshida, lacked camaraderie.
"We did our best, but sometimes... we just can't save everyone."
Repositioning his glasses, Yoshida grinned wickedly.