"Is he still not dead?
- No, Miss Fujiwara, he's still not dead."
Mako looked up from the paper she was holding.
"Perhaps my question wasn't clear enough. Why isn't he dead yet?"
The old man in front of her hesitated for a moment before replying.
"It's difficult to deploy our forces in the current climate, Miss. We know the traitor has taken refuge in the Crips' territory, but we'll need more time to get our hands on him.
- Oh really? And why is that, my dear butler?
- John's death seems to have plunged New York in chaos. Many factions are already making moves, and I'm afraid any operation on our part would get caught in the upcoming storm. Once it subsides though, we'll have plenty of time to punish the traitor and continue our territorial expansion. I simply advise you, Miss, to show a bit of patience."
Mako took several seconds to think about what she had just heard.
"Why would John's death create such a situation?
- That, Miss, I'm afraid you'll need to call your father to find out. I know John's position within Promesse was important, but your father didn't share the other details with me."
Mako stood from her chair to admire the view of New York through her bay window.
"What about the traitor's daughter?
- Her father sent her a message to warn her. Two of our men cornered her on a train as she tried to leave the city, and she is now in our custody.
- Very good, very good… Take her to one of our establishments so she can serve us and repay her father's debt.
- Your orders will be carried out immediately. If you don't need me for anything else, Miss, I'll go prepare your escort."
Mako waved him off. After bowing, the old butler left the room.
Now alone in the office, she considered making a call to her father, but first, she took a moment to admire the view.
All the surrounding buildings belonged to her, and soon, everything as far as the eye could see would as well.
Mako didn't want to share this city with anyone. The gangs would fall one by one like flies in the months to come. Only one final bastion of resistance would remain in New York: Promesse.
She returned to her chair. Scattered across the desk were various documents: files on the leaders of neighboring gangs, monthly revenues from casinos, brothels, and other activities of the clan's New York branch, and records of Promesse members migrating to New York.
The last figure totaled several thousand and didn't even include those who had entered the city undetected.
'Something's brewing,' Mako thought, glancing at the numbers for the umpteenth time.
Everyone knew something was brewing in the shadows, but no one seemed to know what it was.
This was a big reason for the unrest that had engulfed New York for several days.
Mako could only observe their movements from a distance since she wasn't part of Promesse. Her clan did have a contact within the organization, but she was certain they wouldn't learn anything from them.
The traitor had sold him out to the enemy. From there, she didn't foresee a long life for him.
She picked up the landline on her desk and dialed a number.
'Dad should be able to tell me more about the situation,' she thought as she waited for him to answer.
He was the head of the Yakuza clan, so he must have already had interactions with some of their leaders. The phone rang for several seconds before someone picked up.
(The characters are speaking Japanese, but since they understand Japanese, the conversation will be translated for readability.)
"How's my ray of moonlight doing?"
It was the voice of a man in his fifties. Mako could tell from his tone alone that her father had a big smile on his face.
"Hi Dad, I was calling to get more information about the guests at this morning's funeral."
- And here I thought you were calling to check in on me and ask how your mother and I were doing…"
His tone became grumpy, with a hint of reproach. However, Mako simply smiled.
Her father had always been like this. Stern and authoritarian within the clan, eliminating his enemies and ruling the Yakuza with an iron fist, but a total peach when it came to her and her mother.
In fact, he flew his private jet every month to visit her. Each time he claimed it was to inspect the branch's progress, but everyone in the clan knew he didn't need to go himself or visit so frequently.
Everyone knew, but no one complained. The boss's regular trips gave them a few days off during his absence.
He had been to New York just a few weeks ago and wouldn't be back for over a month.
"How are you and Mom doing?"
The conversation wouldn't progress the way she wanted until she asked this question.
"Very well, my ray of moonlight!"
His voice boomed through the intercom.
"Your mother went to relax at a new spa near Osaka, so your old man is feeling a bit lonely at home."
His tone sounded dejected, but Mako knew it was just an act.
"Would you like me to visit you next month?" she sighed, pretending to give in.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
She could feel her father jumping for joy on the other end of the line.
"I'll have to call your mother to tell her the good news. Don't bother booking a flight, I'll send one of my jets to pick you up.
- As you wish, Dad. Can we talk about the funeral now?
- Of course, my ray of moonlight! I'll tell you everything you want to know."
Mako clenched her fist as if she'd just won a great battle.
"My first question is, how many guests will there be?"
Her father took several seconds to answer.
"One… two… five with the three Princes… six… no, seven with the lunatic who was invited last minute, and eight with my ray of moonlight…"
Mako could hear his whispers on the other end of the line. He was probably counting the guests on his fingers, but she stayed silent to preserve his dignity.
"You should be ten in total if I count the Director and the undertaker."
'Why are there so few of us?'
Mako thought she had been invited because she had worked with John for several months, but it seemed strange to her that there weren't more people at his funeral.
Mako had no answers, but her father might.
"Tell me, Dad, why are there so few guests?
- I don't know, my daughter, and that's why I wanted you to refuse the invitation. I don't want you getting caught up in their power struggles.
- I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad. Besides, we all want power. Once I've taken control of New York's underworld, I'll have to deal with their organization eventually."
Her father sighed on the other end of the line.
"It's good to have ambition, my daughter. But I forbid you from attacking Promesse or any of their high-ranking members. Risking your life for that isn't worth it. You're irreplaceable to your mother and me, my ray of moonlight. Don't die, especially not over politics.
- Why are you afraid of them, Dad?
- I'm not afraid of them, sweetheart. But understand two things: New York is their home, and they won't give it up for anything. It's where their organization began and where they bury their dead. That's the first point. The second is that every member I've met is a power-hungry fanatic, especially their Director. They don't weigh the pros and cons with a scale or even with a gun. They'll put a bullet in your heart with a wide grin, and you'll never know why. You must be wary of every one of them, even if they don't seem dangerous. Can you promise your old man that?"
Her father's pleading tone annoyed Mako.
"I'm not as dumb as I look, Dad. No need for your whining. You know, I may have inherited Mom's beauty, but it's definitely your intelligence I got."
Her father chuckled softly on the other end of the line.
"Your mother isn't dumb, she's just a bit... naïve. She thought I was an honest lawyer when we first met. Can you imagine? Your old man, a lawyer? Just thinking about it still cracks me up!
- You've already told me, Dad. Can we move on?
- Of course, my ray of moonlight. I wouldn't want to waste your time. Just know your mother will tug your ears when you're back in Tokyo for what you just said."
'And then he wonders why I call him so little…' Mako thought, checking her watch.
She still needed to get ready for the ceremony, and her father hadn't answered half her questions yet.
"I already have information on four of the guests. Can you shed some light on the others for your daughter?
- Of course! There should be the father and son Reddick, George Washington, and the manager of the New York branch, Jo Reagan. You probably got information on those four since they aren't very high up in the organization. That leaves the Prince of Information David Sanderson, the Prince of Logistics Ethan Pelletier, and Amanda, John's wife and the Princess of War."
"Prince? Princess? Do they think they're royalty or something?
- They're lunatics whose organization dates back to the 15th century, of course they have egocentric titles and strange codes. Do you know the weirdest rule I've heard?"
Mako held her head in her hands, exasperated.
"No, Dad, tell me."
Her father let out a heartfelt laugh on the other side of the Pacific.
"If someone wants to leave the organization to live in peace, they must kill everyone on a list provided by the Director. Only the Director and the person themselves know the names on the list, and often the killer dies before completing the task. Do you know why that is, my ray of moonlight?
- No, Dad, but hurry up, or I'll miss the ceremony.
- Because everyone imagines their own name on that list. When people are driven by fear, they often make irrational decisions. The bullet can then come from anywhere: a close friend, a lover, or even their own spouse. The funniest part is that, even if they succeed, they're still not guaranteed survival."
Mako stood up from her chair clearly annoyed.
"Give me useful information, or I swear I'll hang up."
She wasn't bluffing, and her father decided not to risk it.
"What exactly do you want to know, my ray of moonlight?
- What role did John have within Promesse?
- He was the Prince of War, my daughter."
'He could hold such a high position while being deaf and mute? Sure, he was very effective at getting rid of our competitors, but still. Giving so much power to someone with that handicap seems insane. Then again, Dad said they're lunatics, so I shouldn't be surprised.'
"Why has his death caused such an uproar?
- John was assassinated.
- He didn't die in a car accident?"
Her father laughed on the other end of the line.
"If you consider a bullet to the head a car accident, I can't help you, my sweet ray of moonlight!"
Mako still found it perplexing.
"Even if he was assassinated, I've heard that people from 'their world,' as they love to call it, kill each other all the time without it being a problem. Why is John's death so different? I have the numbers here on my desk, Dad. Promesse members from around the world are gathering in my city. With such an army, I even wondered if they were planning to overthrow the government.
- I don't have much more information than you, my daughter. My influence is very limited so far from the island, which is why the clan wanted to open your branch. John was a good man, from the few times I met him, and he was very well-regarded within his organization. You should know, my daughter, that the Prince or Princess of War is elected by all the killers. They're actually the ones with the most power in Promesse."
"And the Director?
- Why are you bringing up that old lunatic?"
Mako didn't understand.
"How can someone have the most power in the organization if there's a Director? Isn't the Director the one who leads Promesse?
- Hahaha, that old lunatic would kill to make that true! Do you know, my ray of moonlight, how Directors are appointed? When the Prince of War holds too much influence within Promesse, the three other Princes can come together to confer upon them the honorary position of Director, which is really nothing more than early retirement. The Director must abandon all their responsibilities to oversee the cemetery. I'll tell you, my daughter, that old geezer must've been pissed off! I would've loved to be in the room to see his face when he got the news. Maybe the rule was created to prevent one person from monopolizing the organization for their own benefit, but that old lunatic must curse the ancestor who came up with it.
- If he had the most power in Promesse, what forced him to follow the rules?
- I think he asked himself the same question.
- And? Mako pressed, waiting for an answer.
- I have no idea, my daughter! Only he knows what goes on in his head. If you've read George Washington's file, imagine the Director is the same person with 50 more years of madness. Both of them are lunatics. I think that even if you could read their minds, you couldn't trust their thoughts. Promise me, my daughter, that you won't interact with them."
Mako remained silent for several seconds, pondering. In the end, she didn't respond to his request but asked another question.
"Who do you think would be best to rally to our clan?"
Her father sighed on the other end of the line.
"I've told you before, but you've always done as you pleased. As your father, I'd prefer you stay far away from them and safe. As a clan leader, I forbid you from proposing an alliance with the Princess of War or the Director, but you could try with the Prince of Logistics if you want. He's new to the scene and not yet as cunning as the others. Still, prioritize your safety above all else. I won't be able to intervene immediately if something happens to you, so take precautions.
- I already have, Dad."
Mako glanced at her watch.
"I have to go, or I'll miss the beginning. Give my love to Mom, and I'll see you next month, Dad.
- Take care of yourself, my moonbeam. I'm glad you called me. Love you, sweetheart.
- Love you, Dad."
Mako hung up.
'That's one thing taken care of,' she thought before picking up her phone to call her butler.
She didn't have to wait long for him to answer.
"Send Jessica to my office when the ladies are ready. We'll leave in thirty minutes.
- Everything is ready. I'll send Jessica right away, Miss."
Mako hung up and placed her phone in her handbag. She turned toward the bay window to admire the view.
New York was surrounded by gray clouds. The wind had already started to pick up, sweeping leaves across the streets. Some managed to rise high enough to strike her window before falling back to the ground.
'The storm is coming,' she thought, watching the black clouds gather on the horizon.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound pulled her out of her reverie. Her maid, Jessica, had arrived, holding a magnificent white dress under her arm.
She bowed before speaking.
"If Miss would follow me, everything is ready for your arrival."
Mako nodded before turning away from the view of New York.
"I'm coming."
They left the office and entered an adjacent room where three women were already waiting—her makeup artist, hairdresser, and dresser.
"Ladies, you have 30 minutes to do your work."
None of them responded, merely nodding timidly.
They set to work in silence, leaving their boss to think in peace. Now that she had more information from her father, Mako needed to decide what to do with it.
She didn't expect miracles at the ceremony but wanted to establish a first contact with them. She had worked with John a few months ago and had established a foothold, but she had never known the full extent of his identity.
'And now he's dead, and the dead are of little use.'
To her, he had been the most efficient killer she'd ever met, but not the easiest to work with.
Mako had spent hours writing on little scraps of paper to communicate with him or give instructions.
Even so, he had been the main reason for the Yakuza's expansion in the city. When most of your enemies disappeared, no one could stop you from walking over their corpses.
'Perhaps, in the end, I shouldn't have made that decision,' she thought as she was helped into a beige fur coat.
There was no point regretting the past, but she just hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt her.
For now, Mako wondered whom she would try to approach. While her father had advised her to target the Prince of Logistics, she still wanted to take a chance with the Princess of War.
It was the boldness of youth combined with a hint of rationality speaking. Mako thought she could take advantage of a moment of weakness from the Princess of War, who, after all, had just lost her husband, to establish a favorable first contact.
'I'll need to meet her before knowing if I can capitalize on this,' Mako thought cautiously.
If there was one thing she had learned from her conversation with her father and her personal experience, it was that these people were anything but normal.
She didn't believe anyone could reach their positions without blood on their hands—especially not the Princess of War.
Mako glanced up at the clock on the wall.
"Your 30 minutes are up, ladies," she announced while looking at herself in the mirror.
A very sensual white dress that revealed her long pale legs, jet-black hair cascading on either side of her face, high heels, and a fur coat to keep warm.
'Perfect!' she thought, admiring her reflection in the mirror.
An angel had descended from the heavens to attend a funeral. The angel pursed her lips as she continued to admire herself.
'I hope the Princess of War doesn't hold it against me for stealing the other Princes' hearts.'
She dismissed the women, and her butler accompanied her to the cars.
The convoy had been prepared in the basement parking lot. There were about ten black sedans with tinted windows lined up in a single file, with an enormous Rolls Royce waiting at the center of the formation.
Dozens of bodyguards were stationed near the vehicles, awaiting their boss's arrival. Mako greeted them with a wave before heading to the Rolls Royce. Her butler opened the door for her and closed it only after she was comfortably seated.
The interior of the car was exquisite, but Mako had grown too accustomed to it. Not surprising, since she traveled everywhere in this car. After all, her father had modified it to withstand C4 explosives or rocket launcher strikes.
'I'll need a good excuse for him to modify me a new one,' she thought as the convoy began to move.
They exited the parking lot. There was little traffic at this time of day, and being in a convoy helped force their way through.
Inside the Rolls Royce, Mako watched the streets pass by through the window. There were four people in the car: she and her butler sat on the rear bench, separated by a window from the driver and one of the bodyguards.
This partition allowed the passengers to have private conversations without the front occupants overhearing.
"Is it wise for you to attend, Miss? We cannot reach the traitor for now, but I fear Promesse doesn't face the same limitation. Once they finish their investigation, your life may be in danger. Wouldn't you reconsider, Miss?" he asked with a touch of apprehension.
Mako continued to gaze out the window. The cars on the road were sparse, but the sidewalks were crowded. She could see a mix of social classes at a glance: an Asian executive in a perfectly tailored shirt, African Americans in tank tops with dreadlocks, a hefty Hispanic man carrying shopping bags in both hands, and your average Caucasian.
This eclectic crowd stood still, watching the convoy pass.
"Only the guilty make excuses. They haven't found any proof yet, so we have nothing to worry about for now. Besides, we weren't the ones who killed him. It would be strange for them to focus on us while there's still an assassin to catch."
Mako turned her gaze away from the bustling streets.
"Not to mention the benefits at stake, it would look suspicious if I skipped the ceremony after receiving an invitation."
The convoy was only a few hundred meters from its destination.
"I've taken precautions in case of the worst, although I doubt they'd dare to kill me in broad daylight. My father isn't here, but Promesse does have branches in Japan that the Director wouldn't want to lose. I trust the greed of a madman more than his rationality, you see."
"Your words are very wise, Miss."
The butler clapped his hands in mock applause, and Mako rolled her eyes.
"Stop your nonsense and open the door for me instead."
They had arrived. The butler circled the car to open the door for his boss while bodyguards streamed out of the other vehicles.
Mako gracefully stepped out of the Rolls Royce, using the butler's arm for support.
The fallen leaves on the ground, the immense bronze gates, and the marble walls gave the place a unique atmosphere—one Mako might have appreciated if she didn't have work to do. She focused instead on the guests who had already arrived.
There were the father and son Reddick, whom she greeted first. They were the least important, so she started with them to save time for the others.
"He won't live long anyway (長くは生きられない)," she muttered unconsciously in Japanese.
The Reddick son heard her, but it didn't matter much.
'Judging by his expression, I don't think he understands Japanese,' she thought, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened.
The Reddick son had been useful to them and might still be, but he had blown his cover by buying a Lamborghini. An informant without a proper cover wasn't very useful, especially when the entire organization would want him dead.
'They won't trace anything back to me with just Alex. They'd need to catch our traitor to even have a chance.'
Mako walked toward the next guest. She didn't head for George Washington, whom she could recognize instantly, but rather toward a man in his fifties with a paunch, standing apart from the others, flanked by two bodyguards.
There was a simple reason for this choice: the first was a notorious lunatic, while the second was likely one of the Princes. Mako didn't know if she was dealing with David or Ethan, but it didn't matter much since she would meet both today.
She signaled to her bodyguards and butler to keep their distance before approaching the man. She didn't even have time to introduce herself or ask who he was. The man began speaking, keeping his hands warm in the pockets of his pants.
"I don't know if you're arrogant or just reckless for accepting the invitation."
His voice was filled with disdain as his eyes scanned her from head to toe with condescension. He spent nearly five seconds examining her in detail, making Mako furious.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Her voice was icy, but the man remained unfazed.
"That's the question I should be asking you. Showing up like this, without even carrying a weapon. I hope, at the very least, you have one in your handbag.
- What is that supposed to mean?"
The man shrugged and pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket.
"Your father must have already warned you about the dangers of coming here today. You'd better hope you can leave the country before the organization gets its hands on your traitor."
He took off his glasses and began cleaning them with the cloth.
"Otherwise, I'm not sure you'll make it out in one piece."
His tone was dismissive, as if he found it tiresome to explain. To Mako, it felt like a teacher condescendingly explaining a simple truth to a dim-witted child. The man exuded absolute confidence in his words while deeply doubting her intelligence. His attitude could have irritated her, but she was here to learn more about their organization.
"Why do you think you'll succeed in catching me? You underestimate the Yakuza clan, Mr. Prince."
Mako thought she saw a glimmer of approval in his eyes, but the prince's response didn't align with her impression.
"I underestimate no one, Miss Fujiwara, not even the homeless, abandoned by all, sleeping under the roof of a shed. Life is far too fragile to risk any uncertainty. A bullet, whether fired by a child who stole their father's rifle or by an exceptional killer like John, is still a bullet capable of taking your life. You may not value your own life, Miss Fujiwara, but I value mine dearly."
She let out a crystalline laugh at his response.
"I don't value my life? You seem to think you know me inside and out, as if I have some irrepressible desire to end my days."
The man put away his cloth and placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.
"I don't claim to know you, but I know everything you've done in this city over the past few months.
- Prince of Information, I presume?"
- That's me. You must also know the position John held and understand why you've been playing with fire."
- I don't know what you're talking about."
Mako responded without flinching, her face a perfect mask of indifference.
The prince's reaction wasn't what she expected. He began chuckling softly, his belly jiggling beneath his suit.
"There's no point in denying it. The truth will come out soon enough. In any case, I can tell you I couldn't care less about what happened to him or what happens to you."
He took several seconds to catch his breath, winded by his own laughter.
"I'm just a spectator in all of this, Miss Fujiwara. You, on the other hand, have played with fire. It's only a matter of time before you get burned. You tried to assassinate him and will pay the price, even if you failed.
- I find it hard to believe that someone in your position, with the power you have, would be content to stay passive," Mako replied with a sharp gaze.
The man shrugged.
"I was never interested in the position of Prince of War. I couldn't care less about what happened to him or who takes his place. The other factions, however… instability means opportunity, and they won't pass it up. It will be up to Amanda to defend her power, not me. Speaking of which, they've just arrived."
He gestured toward the distance, and Mako turned to observe the last guests approaching. They had exited a sedan parked at the corner of the street. Two people stepped out: a stunning red-haired woman and a young man in an ill-fitting suit, with a poorly adjusted belt and tousled hair.
"Who are they?" Mako asked the Prince of Information.
The red-haired woman exuded a unique aura—regal and bloody, with a cold gaze and determination as sharp as a blade's edge.
Mako needed only one glance to guess her identity.
It was Amanda, John's wife and the new Princess of War. She had taken up the role just a few days ago and had not lost her killer instincts.
The man beside her, however, left Mako uncertain. He had a vacant expression, looking half-lost. He lacked the commanding presence of Amanda or David Sanderson.
'He seems a bit frail…' Mako thought, studying the young man further.
She strongly suspected he wasn't one of the princes, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why.
"Those two? You should already know," the prince replied.
Her mind resisted admitting it.
"The woman on the right is Amanda, and the young man on the left is Ethan. You must know their roles in our organization and, therefore, their status. I understand he could be of great help to you in your endeavors, but I'd advise against it.
- And why is that? Mako asked, turning back to him.
- They were close to John. I shouldn't need to explain further for you to understand the problem."
'So I came here for nothing?' Mako wondered, surveying the other guests.
If they all already knew, she would face nothing but hostility. Yet Mako couldn't understand why no one was reacting negatively to her presence.
There could only be one explanation.
'David Sanderson must be the only one who knows,' she thought, observing the man with a slight smile.
She now wondered how he had tracked down their traitor and whether eliminating him might solve the problem.
'I'll deal with that after the ceremony,' she thought. 'He must want something from me to have not exposed me yet, or maybe he really is just a 'spectator,' as he claims.'
She put the matter aside for later as she watched two men open the imposing cemetery gates. Beside them stood an elderly man with gray hair, puffing on a cigar as he observed their actions.
Mako had never met him, but as with the other princes, she only needed to piece together the clues to deduce his identity.
'That must be the Director.'
He stood tall, taking deep drags from his cigar while his men opened the gates. Next to him was a man in his thirties with a perfectly trimmed beard and polished boots—the undertaker, a useful figure at funerals.
The undertaker was the first to step through the gates, followed by George Washington. Meanwhile, David excused himself and joined Jo Reagan. The two men crossed the threshold, deep in conversation.
The scene seemed entirely ordinary, but one detail caught Mako's attention: David had left his two bodyguards behind.
'For someone who claims to value his life above all else, that's quite strange,' she thought, heading toward the gates with her guards.
Despite the miniature army approaching him, the Director remained calm. He continued smoking his cigar in silence, his gaze detached.
It was only when Mako crossed the threshold with her bodyguards that the man reacted.
"I'm afraid, Miss Fujiwara, that your bodyguards are not welcome inside."
His voice was serene yet commanding despite his age.
"And why is that?" Mako asked, turning to him.
He smirked. Before answering, he took a drag from his cigar. Mako hated the smell of cigarettes and despised cigars even more, but she couldn't snatch it out of the man's hand.
"My cemetery, my rules, Princess."
The man offered no further explanation and returned his focus to his cigar.
Mako hesitated for several long seconds. She hadn't been without her guards in years and wasn't eager to part with them in a place surrounded by lunatics.
She had two choices: enter alone or go home as everyone had advised her.
After all, she had already made contact with one of the Princes and identified the others. She had accomplished everything she planned for the ceremony and could leave with a sense of duty fulfilled.
But Mako wanted more.
If no one but David was aware of her involvement, there was no reason she couldn't establish contact with the other Princes. Especially since, if David truly was just a "spectator," he would be of no use to her.
Mako needed allies—powerful allies—if she wanted to control New York.
"You'll wait outside," she finally instructed her bodyguards.
"Are you sure that's wise, Miss?" her old butler asked quietly, his voice tinged with worry.
If anything happened to her, it would undoubtedly be him, his family, and the families of the other bodyguards who would pay the price.
But Mako waved away his concerns.
"Nothing will happen to me. Stay close to the gates in case things turn sour inside."
There was only one entrance, which meant only one exit. If someone like George was crazy enough to attack her, her bodyguards would handle it.
Mako entered the cemetery with a semi-calm mind.
Behind her, Alex Reddick, the two remaining Princes, and Bernard Reddick crossed the threshold. The younger Reddick kept casting her insistent glances, but Mako ignored him. She continued walking without looking back for several minutes.
The cemetery was vast, and John's grave lay at its center.
'It must be at least a kilometer from the gates to the grave,' she thought upon arriving.
On the gravestone was inscribed:
Husband, Friend, and Exemplary Employee
and a short phrase in Latin:
Nihil nisi negotium, nihil personale.
''"Nihil" means "nothing" in Latin,' Mako thought. As for the rest, she had no idea.
It was a ready-made question to start a conversation with Amanda and Ethan. However, just as she began approaching them, the undertaker started his speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen,
We are gathered here today to say farewell to John, a person who touched the lives of many in various ways. In this moment of pain and sadness, we come together to honor his memory and celebrate the life he lived.
John was a loyal individual, known for his selflessness and dedication. His presence always brought compassion and respect. He will be missed, and he will remain in our hearts forever.
It is hard to find the words to express what we all feel at this moment. The loss of John leaves a great void, but we must remember the moments of joy and the precious memories we shared with him.
Today, we say goodbye, but we know that his spirit will always be with us, watching over his loved ones and friends. May we find strength in the love and support we share here, and may we honor his memory by living our lives with the same generosity and compassion he showed.
I now invite you to a moment of silence, to reflect on John's life and what he meant to each of you."
The undertaker paused briefly.
"Thank you all for coming today to pay your respects. May he rest in peace."
Once the undertaker finished his speech and left the stage, Mako resumed her approach toward Amanda. When she was only a few meters away, Mako felt her handbag vibrate.
She opened it and pulled out her phone. As she prepared to turn it off, Mako noticed something strange.
The phones of the other guests were also ringing.
'What's going on?' she wondered, frowning as she focused on her phone.
The number was unfamiliar, but she answered anyway.
"Who are you?" was her first question.
A man's voice responded immediately.
"Are you familiar with piranhas, Miss Fujiwara?"
The voice continued without giving Mako a chance to reply.
"If someone bleeds into a river, the piranhas will tear them to pieces. Is the blame on the person who made them bleed, or the piranhas?"
"Are you threatening me?"
The question once again went unanswered.
"I believe everyone must pay, Miss Fujiwara. The only question you should be asking yourself now is simple: Who will make you pay?"
The person on the other end hung up, leaving Mako more confused than frightened.
'Was that a prank?' she wondered, turning to look at the other guests.
However, a loud bang quickly changed her mind.
BANG
Before Mako could understand what had happened, Alex Reddick fell to the ground.
"SNIPER!" his father yelled, rushing to his son.
Mako stood frozen in shock, her vacant gaze fixed on Bernard as he desperately tried to save his son. Blood was everywhere, forcing Mako to turn away to avoid vomiting.
She was a businesswoman, not a killer, and the sight of Alex Reddick's lifeless body brought her back to the harsh reality of her situation.
She was surrounded by killers, unarmed and without her bodyguards.
"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOUR SCHEMING GOT HIM KILLED!"
Bernard Reddick's desperate, rage-filled scream snapped her out of her daze. She turned just in time to see him aiming a pistol at David—only for his head to explode in a shower of blood.
Mako's first instinct, faced with such violence, was to call her father.
He answered as George Washington calmly retrieved a silencer from his briefcase.
"What's wrong, my ray of moonlight? Is the ceremony going as you'd hoped?"
BANG
A fresh sniper shot whizzed through the air, narrowly missing George Washington's head.
Hearing no reply from Mako, her father continued speaking.
"I called your mother earlier to tell her you'll be visiting next month. She was just as happy as I was to hear it."
When there was still no response from his daughter, the old man began to worry.
"Is there a problem, my ray of moonlight?"
"I'm scared, Dad," Mako finally said.
Her father's tone turned serious at the sound of her distress.
"Where are you? What's happening? Are your bodyguards with you?"
It took Mako several seconds to respond, her voice trembling.
"I'm at the cemetery. A sniper is shooting at us from a distance, and I wasn't allowed to bring my bodyguards inside. Two men have already been shot in the head, and the shooter isn't letting anyone leave…"
Her voice broke under the weight of her panic.
"Calm down, my daughter, calm down. Hide behind a gravestone if you can, and let me call the Director."
Before hanging up, he made her a promise.
"I'll call you back in a few minutes. In the meantime, contact your bodyguards and trust no one else. I love you, my daughter. Hang tight and wait for my good news"
Mako didn't have time to reply before her father hung up.
She knew there was little he could do from across the Atlantic, but the call had helped her regain her composure.
Now that she had collected herself, Mako made another call. After a few moments, a woman's voice answered on the other end.
"How can I assist you, Miss Fujiwara?"
"Are you near the cemetery with your men?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Good. We have a sniper inside the grounds. Can you assist us?"
"That should be a valid reason to force the gates. We'll be there in five minutes, Miss. Hold on."
Mako hung up before turning her attention to the other guests. George Washington was the only one who had run off in the direction of the sniper, while the rest hid behind gravestones.
Each reacted to the situation in their own way.
Most had drawn weapons to defend themselves if necessary—except for David, who held a flask in one hand. He appeared the most relaxed, sipping alcohol and watching the dead leaves swirl in the wind.
Among the others, Amanda and Ethan were whispering to each other as if nothing else existed, while Jo was crouched over Bernard Reddick's corpse.
Jo had slipped on a pair of thin black gloves before taking Bernard's gun. Without bothering to clean the blood-soaked barrel, he slid it into his waistband and returned to his seat.
Gunfire continued in the distance. Mako had no idea what had happened to George Washington, but it was clear the sniper was still active.
A bullet grazed the tombstone Jo was hiding behind, though it didn't hit him or damage the marble.
'They should be here soon,' Mako thought as she waited.
At least they only faced a single sniper who seemed unwilling to change positions. Bullets rained down at regular intervals but failed to hit their targets.
Oddly, the shots were aimed exclusively at Jo and Mako, as if the sniper had no interest in the Princes nearby.
'Either the shooter is working with them, or they've been given very specific targets,' Mako thought, glancing at her phone to check the time.
Her reinforcements should have arrived by now. Instead, an uncomfortable silence hung over the cemetery, broken only by the sniper's shots.
"What do we do?" Mako asked aloud.
The only one to respond was David, who pulled a macaron from his pocket and ate it in one bite.
"That's for you to figure out."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve before replying.
"You're the targets, so it's your problem to worry about. The best decision is to stay hidden until our men arrive. You've avoided the storm's wall; it would be a shame to get swept away now."
Mako turned to observe the others' reactions. Amanda and Ethan continued whispering to each other as if oblivious to their surroundings, while Jo was on the phone.
Mako decided to follow his example and check on the situation outside, but no one answered her call.
Jo, however, seemed to have gathered more information. He ended his call with clenched fists and a dark expression.
"We have a problem. Serge is blocking the entrance."
David didn't seem surprised.
"I'd have been more shocked if he wasn't," he said, turning to the other Princes.
"My helicopter should be arriving soon. Do you need a ride?" he asked, taking another sip of alcohol.
"No. I don't know what he's thinking, and I don't want to know. But if he believes he can get away with this unscathed, even a psychiatric hospital can't help him."
Amanda's voice was melodic and as calm as David's, yet it carried something that sent chills down Mako's spine.
'Who is this Serge?' she wondered.
Before she could ask, Amanda's phone buzzed.
It wasn't a call but a message. Amanda read it in seconds before turning to David.
"How long have you known?"
David simply raised his eyebrows.
"Could you be more specific?"
Amanda's gaze shifted to Mako.
"That this stuck-up bitch was the one who hired the assassins."
She stood before Mako could respond, gesturing for Jo to hand her a weapon.
"Wait, madam! I had nothing to do with your husband's death!" Mako exclaimed, standing as well.
She raised her hands, showing she was unarmed and therefore harmless.
But killing an unarmed young woman didn't seem to trouble Amanda.
A bullet tore through Mako's chest.
She didn't have time to process what was happening before collapsing to her knees.
"Daddy…"
A second bullet struck her, her body convulsing before hitting the ground.
"Daddy…"
She could feel her arm vibrating as if her phone was ringing.
It had to be her father.
Everything was going to work out.
She just had to answer the phone.
Everything would be fine.
Her consciousness faded.