Ten minutes later.
Jin Kurosawa tucked the thick stack of documents away and shut the car door.
Standing in the rain, he pulled out his phone and dialed Seiji Fujiwara.
"Boss."
He looked toward the Mitsui building, its silhouette faint in the curtain of rain, and split into a savage grin.
"The chains are broken."
"These sheep are wolves now."
Seiji's calm voice came through the phone. "Well done. Come back. There's a big show tomorrow."
As for the penalty fees?
Once Mitsui was crushed, the profits would more than cover such trivial costs.
The medical industry was basically a money printer.
…
…
The next morning.
The rain finally stopped. Long-missed sunlight pierced the clouds and reflected off the glass curtain wall of Mitsui Pharmaceuticals' R&D building, dazzling to the eye.
Eight o'clock.
Official start of the workday.
At this hour, the research center should have been buzzing already, machines humming, researchers talking over one another.
Instead, it was silent.
Unnaturally so.
Ryuichi Mitsui strolled through the building with several executives, hands clasped behind his back, just as he always did.
But when he reached the floor housing the core laboratories, he found the corridor empty. Not a soul in sight.
"What's going on?" He frowned. "Where is everyone? Morning meeting?"
"They're probably… probably inside the labs working," the HR director said, wiping sweat from his brow. "After the raise, everyone's motivated."
"Good." Mitsui nodded, a satisfied smile forming. "Looks like my feed is still effective."
He stopped before the thick blast-proof glass doors and peered inside.
There were people in the lab.
All the key staff were there.
But none wore lab coats. No one was operating equipment.
They were packing up.
Personal belongings went into cardboard boxes. Data drives were being wiped. Even the potted plants on the desks were gone.
The smile froze on Mitsui's face.
"What… what are you doing?"
He shoved the door open and roared, "Who told you to clean up during work hours?!"
No one answered.
The chief pharmacologist, who once bowed and scraped before him, turned around with a box in his arms and looked at the chairman calmly.
"Tanaka! What are you doing?!" Mitsui jabbed a finger at him. "Are you rebelling?!"
Daisuke Tanaka took a deep breath.
He remembered the rain-soaked night before, the check that cleared his debt, and the words spoken by the man in black.
Stand up straight.
"Chairman."
He removed his ID badge and set it gently on the bare desk.
"We're not cleaning."
"We're resigning."
"All of us."
The others looked at Mitsui with the same cold eyes.
"What did you say?!" His vision spun. "Resigning? Are you insane?! That's a tenfold penalty! You think you can afford it?!"
"We can."
Tanaka smiled, relieved.
"Because someone already paid for us."
At that moment, a deep, synchronized rumble of engines rose from below.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Mitsui saw a black motorcade stretch out in front of the building like a steel serpent.
Doors opened.
Dozens of Genesis security personnel stepped out in formation, standing as if welcoming returning heroes.
And at the very front, the "washed-up mad dog" he had always sneered at, Jin Kurosawa, leaned against a car door and looked up at the windows.
Then he drew a finger across his own throat.
In that instant, Mitsui finally realized it.
His cage was broken.
…
…
Batch after batch of researchers and technical staff packed up and walked out of Mitsui Pharmaceuticals.
Every single one of them was smiling.
Each of them left the building with their head held high.
"Bastards… bastards!!"
Watching the scene below, Mitsui shook with rage. He grabbed a teacup from the desk and hurled it to the floor.
Crash!
The shattering glass made the HR director flinch.
But the old fox, hardened by forty years in the business world, forced himself to calm down.
He stared down at Jin, calculations racing through his mind.
A mass resignation… fifty-one people?
Half of them were core personnel, including three project leads. If they were really gone, Mitsui's R&D system would be crippled for at least a year. The stock price would plummet.
But—
Mitsui's eyes turned sharp and icy.
Was Seiji Fujiwara insane?
The supplemental agreements were signed just yesterday. Ten percent raises across the board. Penalties raised to tenfold.
Based on their salaries, the total penalty for fifty-one people was at least twenty-three billion yen.
And under the non-compete clauses, the full amount had to be paid within twenty-four hours of resignation. Otherwise, it counted as illegal employment. He could apply to the court for enforcement, even freeze all of Genesis Group's assets.
Twenty-three billion yen in cash.
Mitsui sneered inwardly.
Even a giant like Mitsui Pharmaceuticals would strain to mobilize that much liquidity in a single day. Genesis might have some money, but with such shallow foundations, there was no way they could come up with it.
This had to be Kurosawa's rotten idea. Lure people away with empty promises, create a fait accompli, then drag things out in court until forcing a settlement.
Dream on.
"Let them go!"
Mitsui spun around and barked at the stunned HR director. "Don't stop them. Let them go!"
"C-Chairman?" The director thought he'd misheard.
"I said let them go!"
Mitsui straightened his rumpled suit, a greedy, vicious smile spreading across his face. "Not only let them go. Open the door for them."
"Daisuke Tanaka."
He stepped up to the former chief pharmacologist and patted his shoulder, eyes like he was looking at a lamb awaiting slaughter.
"If you want to get rich at Genesis, I'll grant your wish."
"But remember this. If the penalty money isn't in our account by ten tomorrow morning…"
He leaned in and whispered savagely, "I'll make every last one of you regret betraying me."
Without another glance at the scientists, he strode out of the lab.
"Get the car," he ordered his secretary. "International Convention Center. I have a gift prepared for Seiji Fujiwara at today's summit."
You want to pull the rug out from under me?
I'll show you what it means to choke to death on your own ambition.
As long as that money doesn't arrive tomorrow, Genesis Group will be mine.
Mitsui entered the elevator, convinced of victory.
He didn't notice that Tanaka, watching his back, showed no fear at all.
Only pity.
…
…
Tokyo International Convention Center.
The annual All-Japan Pharmaceutical Industry Summit was underway.
Though it was still morning, the venue buzzed with excitement.
The "mass resignation incident" at Mitsui Pharmaceuticals' headquarters had swept through the industry like a tsunami, reaching everyone within two hours.
Everyone knew it now.
Genesis Group's mad dog, Jin Kurosawa, had really stolen Mitsui's house out from under them.
Yet strangely, as the biggest victim, Chairman Ryuichi Mitsui showed none of the expected rage or panic.
Instead, he stood at the center of the hall, wineglass in hand, still basking in attention.
"Isn't Genesis going too far? Poaching over twenty core staff at once?"
"Yeah, how much penalty is that? I heard Mitsui just raised it to tenfold…"
"I ran the numbers. At least twenty billion yen. Can Genesis afford that?"
"I doubt it. Probably Seiji Fujiwara got hotheaded. Once the bill arrives, he'll panic."
The murmurs only deepened the cold smile on Mitsui's face.
That was his confidence.
Yes, the people were gone. For now.
But if Genesis couldn't pay the penalties, it would be malicious inducement to breach contract and illegal employment. He could reclaim the people through the courts and crush Genesis in the process.
Well, maybe not crush.
Thinking of Seiji's private security force, Mitsui cooled slightly.
Still, in pure business warfare, he feared no one.
To him, Kurosawa's move wasn't pulling the rug out.
It was suicide.
"Look, Seiji Fujiwara is here."
A ripple went through the crowd.
The massive gilded doors opened, and Seiji walked in with an executive director and Jin.
Mitsui narrowed his eyes, set down his glass, and went to meet him.
His entourage and the president of the Headhunter Association, Tadashi Niimura, followed close behind, forming an invisible wall of pressure.
"Well, if it isn't the former chairman."
Mitsui blocked Seiji's path, smiling without warmth. "I heard you made quite a move this morning. Took dozens of cars to my building to snatch people. What, has Genesis switched to kidnapping?"
"Just normal talent mobility," Seiji replied calmly, stopping in his tracks. "A good bird chooses the right tree. Surely Chairman Mitsui understands that."
"Good birds?"
Mitsui sneered, his gaze turning vicious. "I see a flock of idiots you sweet-talked. President Fujiwara, you didn't think dragging them out the door was enough, did you?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear.
"Twenty-three billion yen."
"That's the total penalty for those fifty-one people. By the non-compete agreements, it must be paid in full within twenty-four hours."
"If I don't see the money in my account tomorrow morning, I'll apply to freeze all Genesis Group assets and sue you for commercial fraud."
"At that point, those fools you tricked won't just be drowning in debt. They'll be facing prison. And you…"
He straightened, smoothing his collar, arrogance returning to his smile.
"You'll have nothing."
"Kid, business requires capital. If you don't have the stomach, don't try to swallow meat that big. You'll choke."
Around them, industry peers gasped when they heard "twenty-three billion."
Niimura seized the chance to pile on. "Exactly, President Fujiwara. Jin Kurosawa is a madman. Why follow him into madness? Admit your mistake, send the people back, and maybe Chairman Mitsui will show mercy."
All eyes turned to Seiji.
They waited.
Waiting for panic. For fear. For him to bow his head.
Seiji just smiled.
He turned slightly toward Jin. "Hear that? Chairman Mitsui is worried we can't pay the bill."
Jin grinned, the scar on his brow twisting into something feral.
"That's quite an insult."
As he spoke, he picked up the black briefcase and strode straight onto the stage.
Ignoring the host's attempts to stop him, he slammed the heavy case onto the table.
Bang.
The hall fell silent.
Mitsui frowned. "What are you doing? Making a scene?"
"A scene? No."
Jin snapped open the locks, movements rough and direct.
"I'm here to pay."
He pulled out a thin slip of paper.
A Swiss bank promissory note.
He held it up to every camera in the room, displaying the number printed on it.
"Swiss bank note. Immediate redemption."
"Amount: two hundred million US dollars."
His hoarse voice boomed through the microphone like a hammer smashing into Mitsui's chest.
"That covers the penalty for those fifty-one people. The extra change is a thank-you fee from Genesis to the Mitsui Group."
A sharp intake of breath swept the room.
Two hundred million dollars.
Cash.
What did that mean?
Many listed companies weren't even worth that much in total.
And Genesis had thrown it out just to poach people?
"That's impossible…"
Sweat streamed down Mitsui's forehead as he stared at the figure. He had thought Genesis's cash flow was already stretched thin. Instead, they were sitting on a nuclear-level reserve.
"That's impossible! Where did you get that kind of money?!"
"Not your concern."
Jin tucked the note away and sneered. "What you should worry about is how far Mitsui's stock will fall tomorrow without those fifty people."
Analysts in the audience were already frantically calling in orders.
"Sell Mitsui Pharmaceuticals! Now! Core team's gone! R&D collapse! Massive negative news!"
"Buy Genesis! Buy Genesis! They have two hundred million in liquidity… in dollars!"
The wind shifted.
In minutes, the tide of ridicule turned completely.
Mitsui felt dizzy. He braced himself against the podium, barely standing.
He'd lost.
Talent gone. Blockade turned into a joke. Stock about to crash.
But it wasn't over yet.
Seiji rose slowly from his seat.
He straightened his tie and, surrounded by bodyguards, walked onto the stage like a king.
He didn't look at Mitsui.
Facing the microphone, he said calmly, "Lawyer Niimura. Your turn."
As his words fell, the doors of the hall opened again.
This time, it wasn't scientists or reporters.
It was prosecutors from the Tokyo Prosecutors Special Division, dressed in dark blue uniforms, faces severe.
Tadashi Niimura held a thick stack of documents as he walked up to the man who had collapsed to the floor.
"Chairman Mitsui. Long time no see."
He adjusted his glasses, fury blazing in his eyes. "This is the complete evidence chain of your tax fraud, money laundering, and bribery of Ministry officials over the past five years."
"Every account. Every email. I kept them all for you."
"Oh, and there are recordings too. Of you hiring organized crime to threaten competitors and sabotage their businesses."
At the word "recordings," the last of Mitsui's composure shattered.
"No… no! This isn't real! Niimura! I'll kill you!"
He lunged like a madman, only to be pinned down by the prosecutors.
"Mr. Ryuichi Mitsui."
The lead prosecutor produced an arrest warrant, voice cold. "You are suspected of multiple serious crimes and are hereby under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say will be recorded and used as evidence."
The hall erupted.
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