The golden halo flickered, and the three returned once more to the Roppongi District in Tokyo Bay. After World War II, this area became an open port for foreigners, with many living here.
This is exactly where Su Ming dined on the cruise earlier.
The foreigners here included, but were not limited to, businessmen and military personnel, greatly boosting the economic development while simultaneously causing various service industries to flourish.
If compared to New York, the current Roppongi is like Hell's Kitchen.
The neon lights gleamed at night, making the sky seem red, with an aura of alcohol and debauchery wafting through the shabby alleys.
Not a few women wrapped tightly against the cold stood by the roadside, stomping their feet and looking around as if waiting for someone.
Many of these Japanese women came from respectable families, yet for various reasons, they had no choice but to earn money to support their households.
They are 'panpan,' a term used by the U.S. military in Japan to describe these women, simply put, they are hired mistresses.
It's winter 1955, and Japan has adopted a fixed exchange rate of 360 Yen to 1 US Dollar, so what was the consumption level?
Food was expensive, such as fruits and vegetables, but some things were cheap.
There was a kind of liquor called 'Zouqu,' now most commonly consumed by Japanese men, which, as the name suggests, was brewed from various slops like pig feed, mixed with methanol.
100 Yen for a large bottle of about 2 liters, and just three small cups could make an ordinary adult man unable to stand.
In other words, even for a hard-drinking binge drinker, this is at least enough for a month's drinking.
There was no other way; though the postwar economy was improving, unemployment remained very high, and it was normal for Japanese men to find no work.
Besides drinking daily and drowning sorrows in alcohol, there was nothing else to do.
Why the sorrow? Because their wives went out to earn money, and how could women who did not speak English and were without experience make dollars still needed to be imagined?
Maintaining a panpan costs about 20 US Dollars a month, affordable for any American soldier, with large numbers in Okinawa and Yokohama.
Their primary targets, of course, are officers; if not officers, then white men, and if still no luck, then black men. Interestingly, U.S. soldiers of Mexican or Latino descent were not as welcome, as they resembled Asians too much.
Here in Roppongi, the level is somewhat higher because the ones gathered here are either foreign traders or officers, so the panpans here are younger and prettier.
No help for it, the competition is fierce.
The three appeared in a small alley behind a nightclub, where not far away lay a person motionless in the snow, seemingly frozen to death after drinking.
Monac glanced over there, then at the colored lights of the street; in this comparison, the few seemed as unnoticed as this corpse.
He sighed, walked to the alley entrance, and watched those women trying every means to retain passing Europeans and Americans: "Truly a strange nation, weird people; just a few years ago we were fighting desperately, and now they seem to have become slaves in the blink of an eye."
"Nothing strange, that's how the Japanese are, they have a unique understanding of 'to the victor belong the spoils.'" Su Ming withdrew his gaze and turned to Wang beside him: "Are you okay? This is the state of a post-war nation; perhaps a bit harsh for you."
Wang showed no special expression, only pursed his lips more tightly: "You are the Supreme Mage, and the mission is only to protect our dimension. I am of the Guardian Race, my mission is to obey your orders, you are always right."
"Ahem, don't say always right, anyone listening might think I've brainwashed you all." Su Ming chuckled with courtesy, set aside his battle armor, and donned a suit: "Let's go, the coordinates are where its course was; someone here must have seen that Ghost Ship, let's ask around."
He said to ask around, but he didn't move a step, standing in the darkness watching Monac.
The Supreme Mage not moving, Wang wouldn't move either; he stood three steps back from Su Ming like a servant, also watching Monac.
"Go.... huh? Why are you both staring at me? I don't know the way."
Monac took two steps and realized neither followed him, both gazing at him strangely, which gave him goosebumps.
Whenever Deathstroke looked at him like this, it meant no good.
Su Ming fiddled with his belt, bringing out two hundred US Dollars and handed it to Monac: "Go ahead, gather some intel; these panpan seem to be on the street all night, there might be witnesses."
"You're just playing me, why don't you go?" Monac crossed his arms, not taking the money.
"I have a fierce look and too much killing intent, they're just pitiful women, I might scare them." Su Ming tapped his eyepatch as if it were only natural.
The Magic Prince looked incredulously: "You think I don't know you can disguise yourself as anyone? Where's your symbiote? Just have it turn you into the Emperor, are you not going to get any intel?"
"Low-key, act low-key." Su Ming forced the money into his hands, turning him out of the alley, and shouted in Japanese at the street: "Wealthy American white man! Come on, sisters!"
After shouting, he pulled Wang beside him, and after a series of quick steps, disappeared into the darkness.
"Wow...."
The dense footsteps drowned everything out; wearing kimonos might limit their stride, but the pace was quick.
In the blink of an eye, the sophisticated gentleman that was the Magic Prince was surrounded by women, first nearby, and then from a distance, encircling him tightly.
The woeful Monac stood under the streetlight, surrounded by a group of young Japanese women, unable to break through.
They bowed, clung, and Monac couldn't bear to be rough with women, which seemed a common failing of British gentlemen, one of his weaknesses.
Seeing the women were even about to kneel in the snow, simply for a meal, Monac finally gave up his insistence.
Clutching the US Dollars tightly, as if squeezing Deathstroke's neck, he sighed skyward and said in Japanese: "Let's go, come with me for a feast."
"Yes!"
The women, who just moments ago were like a flood and ferocious beasts, now looked submissive, all gracefully bowing slightly, flocking around Monac heading for Joy Street.
The black cloth formed by Strangulation faded away, revealing the two pressed against the alley wall.
"Hmm, coming to Japan truly does make one want to try the Ninja's tricks; this 'Black Cloth Invisibility Technique' seems to make some sense."
Su Ming stroked his chin, watching Monac's look of turning back every step, he showed a satisfied smile.
"I don't understand, Master, why do you have to send the Magic Prince to gather information?" Wang looked puzzled, even with a bit of youthful defiance: "If it's for you, I can also do it!"
"You really think I sent him to indulge?" Su Ming patted the young man's shoulder; it's not as simple as it seems: "We already know now that that ship emits a property that attracts people, causing them to board unknowingly, and then they're captured."
"But this property doesn't affect ordinary people, doesn't work on the Asgardian Race, and doesn't affect cold-blooded people like me, meaning its target is to lure individuals with special abilities and a kind heart, commonly known as superheroes, onto the ship."
"Not long ago, it came in this direction. Whether it's hiding underwater or shifted phase, I can't be sure, so it's too troublesome to find it; better to let it find us instead."
"Monac is the most suitable bait among us three, and he has enough capability to protect himself." Su Ming changed into a regular Eastern face: "Predict the situation in advance, consider the enemy broadly, then from a tactical standpoint, calculate their mindset and form a counter-plan, got it?"
After patiently explaining a few sentences, the two followed Monac closely through a series of stealth moves, watching as the Magic Prince gradually smiled and seemed to enjoy himself.
Wang found his outlook instantly broadened.