“Is there anything I should know about him before I go up there? I've been told that his opinion on the clan isn't a very high one.”

“Well, let's just say you weren't lied to. He wasn't very supportive of the truce after the incident, which, let me just say, I'm sorry for.” Lee becomes rigid and humble as he glances down to his guest's prosthetic arms. “I don't think you've ever received a direct apology from anyone in the Palan Byeol Pa, which is something you are owed. So, I apologize.” He gives a deep bow and holds it for about two seconds.

“I... appreciate it. Thanks,” Atreus reluctantly accepts the apology. For a short instant, he considers mentioning the fact that others lost more than just their arms in the incident, but doesn't wish to start an argument over something that, while hard to forget, has officially been addressed by both parties already. He opts to return the discussion back to his original question. “Should I expect Song to be belligerent or confrontational? In fact, should I expect to walk out of here knowing who bought the ammunition at all?”

“He might say things to push your buttons, I'm sure. But stay patient, and I'm confident he'll relent and tell you what you want to know. Since meeting you in person was the only requirement he stated, he probably just wants to see who you are and size you up.”

“Do you think he'll use his leverage to try and pry into Sanada-gumi affairs while I'm here?”

“Maybe,” the Blue Star officer answers with narrowed eyes of uncertainty. “I can't even begin to guess what he's thinking. One of the reasons he's such a hassle to work or communicate with is because he's rather unpredictable, which is something that ends up working either for or against the Palan Byeol Pa.”

“What exactly was his role in things after the incident happened? I heard about rumors that he may have allowed the whole thing to happen somehow.” Atreus tries to delicately find some headway into information on the inner workings of the Blue Star during the volatile time.

“Those rumors reached other senior members too, and we conducted our own investigation. A thorough one. I can confirm that we found absolutely no trace of evidence to suggest that he had even the slightest amount of participation with that rogue group,” Lee quickly shuts down any hearsay that his guest might've heard. “The weapons they used aren't even among any sort of inventory we have under our black market umbrella. We don't know where they acquired such equipment, and they were quite careful about destroying any and all evidence before they acted it out.”

“So why was he so against the truce? Didn't he stop to think that it would implicate him somehow?” the yakuza asks, growing perplexed with the decision of an allegedly unstable man.

“He's not very smart when it comes to politicking,” Lee candidly speaks. “He's just the type of tantrum-throwing blowhard who thinks that by being cooperative, we're being submissive, too. The fact of the matter is, the Sanada-gumi are bigger than us – always have been and likely always will be. We're better off cooperating with them than fighting them. It's a point that other senior members and I have to repeatedly tell him.”

“So he's dumb, rich, power-hungry, and as a cherry on top, also has a short temper,” Atreus succinctly summarizes everything he's heard about Kyang-chul Song so far. “That's an extremely dangerous combination of traits for an influential person to have, especially on our side of the law.”

“You're telling me.” Lee responds with a sigh and a blank stare of exhausted familiarity with Song's obnoxious personality.

“I don't suppose you have any opinions of your own on the murder I'm investigating?”

The elder man shakes his head. “All I can speak on is what I know of any participation of the Blue Star in that crime, and frankly, I've found none. Even Song has no signs pointing to him, not that I think he'd be capable of planning a clean hit, anyway. The sale of those special cartridges is as much of a thread as either of us will probably get right now, until Song tells us something new. However, if you have anything you'd like to share, I can keep my ear to the ground.”

“I can't say I know anything concrete either,” Atreus comments with tired gaze cast down towards the floor. “From what I can piece together, Will Camlin was probably killed in order to make it easier to secure crucial patient health information from Atmos Dynamics. And I have absolutely no clue who would have an interest in such data.”

“You mean health information from everyone who has prosthetics?” Lee furrows his brow slightly, trying to fully grasp the amount of information at hand.

“Yes. The interface chip in every patient's brain stem records their bodily functions and sends the data to Atmos, which they save and sell to corporations for market research.”

“That's... a very specific thing to acquire,” the Blue Star senior officer caresses his chin in bewilderment. “I'm not sure what anyone would do with such information, either. It must be some entity related to health as well, probably. I'm unaware of any underground organization that could use such data, so I my first instinct is: maybe it's a legitimate business breaking bad? But then again, if the data is available to purchase legally, then why wouldn't they do that?”

“That's what I've been asking myself all day. Nothing comes to mind,” Atreus confesses with a sigh. His mind has been traveling in circles since the meeting with Stephanie concluded.

“I'll keep my eyes and ears open, but I can't guarantee I'll discover anything so... esoteric.”

“I'll take whatever help I can get.”

Their conversation soon falls into a lull as they continue to wait for word to be sent that Song is ready to begin the meeting. Minute after minute passes, and Lee eventually starts to pace back forth across the living room with only the occasional exchange of small talk to fill the dense silence. As the clock strikes 10:36 PM, an armed guard finally enters the room and approaches Lee.

“Sir,” the stoic man calls out to his superior, “Mr. Song is ready to see you and the guest now.”

“Jesus Christ, finally.” Lee can't help but let out his frustration. “How many times do I have to remind that tactless oaf that this place isn't his house and that he needs to stop acting like it is? I've been considering barging in there for the last five minutes, at least. Sorry, Atreus, I should've expected he'd be this inconsiderate.”

“It's no problem, I already expected it a bit, myself.” The yakuza tries to be patient, but isn't able to control his slight irate frown.

“Anyway, let's not waste anymore time. Follow me,” the Blue Star senior beckons his guest as he leads the way around to the opposite side of the foyer, to the staircase. The guard who notified them of the invitation is following close behind. “The meeting room is only on the second floor.”

“Does anyone live here? Or is this just the building that everyone shares?”

“The president lives here, actually. The entire third floor is his own private quarters. Even senior members need permission to go up there. However, he's currently not in due to visiting the Korean branch of the Palan Byeol Pa in Busan.”

Lee's point proves true, as when the men reach the second floor landing, the staircase across the way leads further up, but is guarded by a single guard standing firmly in the way.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“The meeting room is down this hall, straight ahead,” the elder man continues.

Atreus sticks close behind as he's led deeper into the mansion, down a wide hallway lined with several more doors on either side and more guards between them, each giving their yakuza guest a glare with either threatening intent or just plain confusion – sometimes a combination of both.

They eventually reach the back-most room on the second floor, guarded by one last armed man, who moves out of the way to allow Lee to open the door and Atreus to follow in. The meeting room is a large, open space measuring about thirty feet by thirty feet, with polished wood floors and minimal furniture; there's only one long, foot-high table in the center surrounded by over a dozen floor cushions for seats.

Only two men are already sitting at the table: first, the man at the furthest end, sitting like he owns the place, is likely who Atreus thinks it is – Song. He has a bald head and square jaw covered in a five o'clock shadow, and slightly sunken, dark eyes. His frame is stocky, and he's wearing just a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark dress pants and black socks. The other man, who is to Song's right, is a slightly younger fellow with short black hair and in a full suit, similar to Lee, with a blank expression, facing forward. Song, however, follows Atreus's approach with a disdainful gaze. The yakuza had hoped to escape the burning sensation of having a hole bored into his skull by such stares from the guards, but he should've known better.

“Here,” Lee beckons Atreus to sit at the table by gesturing to the cushion directly to Song's left and across from the other man. He reluctantly takes it, and Lee seats himself next to him. “Song Kyang-chul, this is Atreus Watanabe, the man in charge of investigating a murder on behalf of the Sanada-gumi. Atreus, this is Song Kyang-chul, a senior officer of the Palan Byeol Pa, and one of his black market vendors, Mr. Han Man-sik.”

Atreus, trying to remain courteous, gives a small, silent bow. Song doesn't acknowledge it immediately, instead turning to Han and nodding. Han grabs a bottle of soju on the table, and carefully pours it into a cup in front of Song, who downs the drink in one gulp and slams the cup back down. A pause hangs in the air as all parties expect someone else to say something.

Lee slowly grows irate with his colleague's pompousness, but Song stares ahead, completely dismissive of him. Han resumes sitting still and patient, knowing that he's the lowest on the ladder of all Blue Star members present. Atreus tries to stay still, but his eyes dart around the room and up and down Song's person.

The air starts to become heavy as more seconds pass, each feeling like another lifetime of drawn-out tension. Being the guest, Atreus doesn't know how often this posturing happens in the company of others, but it's probably a common occurrence from someone like Song. He wants to speak up, but he isn't sure if doing so would only be perceived as disrespect from the man he's trying to receive information from, especially since the individual in question might be eager to find any excuse to kill him.

“So,” suddenly a low, thunderous voice erupts from Song's lips, “why exactly do you need to pry into my business's affairs, Sanada-gumi pup?” The man faces the yakuza with his nose turned up; he's staring at Atreus as if he were some third-rate nobody.

The augmented man pauses to first pick his words carefully before committing them to voice. He wants to be aggressive, because he's already put off by Song's attitude, but he knows he can't do that without risking access to the receipts and possibly his own life.

“A civilian was murdered in clan territory, and it may have drastic consequences for us if we can't prove it wasn't us who did it, or that we at least didn't sanction it,” Atreus answers honestly and calmly.

“And what exactly does my merchandise have to with this murder?” Song asks, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brow in a very unpleasant leer of suspicion.

“We have good reason to believe that the bullets that killed this man were purchased from one of your vendors, because it's a type of ammunition that the Sanada-gumi doesn't sell, ourselves,” Atreus answers honestly, again.

“Should I take your presence here as a sign that you believe we're some sort of suspects in this investigation of yours?” The elder man continues his interrogation with ill-intent, very clearly trying to find any excuse to refuse to cooperate.

“I've yet to discover any sort of evidence to suggest that anyone in the Blue Star is responsible for this crime, so no, you shouldn't. I'm here to progress my investigation, and your vendor just so happens to have the information I need.”

“So, it's a fact that we possess evidence you require,” Song repeats while sliding his empty cup a few inches towards Han, who quietly refills it with more soju. Song knocks the drink back in one swift gulp again. “And how am I supposed to trust that you won't use this fact as a reason to frame us for this murder?”

“Song Kyang-chul,” Lee interrupts, “he came here with good will. Don't destroy it before the discussion has even truly begun.”

“'Good will'?” Song repeats with an expression of disbelief and contempt. “You expect me to fucking believe that 'good will' could ever come from the people trying to keep us under their heel? You and every goddamn bootlicker in the Palan Byeol Pa keeps telling me they can crush us without trying. Well, if that shit is true, then why wouldn't they use this as an excuse to finally do it?” He turns his head back to Atreus. “Tell me that, boy. Tell me why that if I give you what you want, I shouldn't expect your leaders deem us complicit.”

“Song–” Lee tries to get another word in.

“I'm asking him!” Song cuts him off, pointing to their yakuza guest. “Well? Go ahead!” He resumes insisting for an answer.

“Because,” Atreus begins with an accompanying deep breath, “if you don't volunteer to cooperate, you're more likely to be deemed complicit anyway. If you at least allow me to walk away with the information I need, it would prove that you still have enough good intentions,” he tries to give as diplomatic an answer as he possibly can while also being honest.

“So, damned if I do, damned if I don't.” Song responds with a scoff, completely ignoring the meaning of the words Atreus spoke.

“Do you really want war so badly, you neanderthal?” Lee interjects again, but with far less patience in his voice this time. “He just said that the Sanada-gumi would be grateful for your cooperation, and you're just hearing whatever you want to hear!”

“'Grateful'? Don't make me fucking laugh,” the angry man with a chip on his shoulder waves off his colleague's words. “We've been giving them our cooperation for decades now, and they only seek to take advantage of that by expanding while we still stay within the same boundaries we've had since the day I first swore my oaths.”

“Our lack of expansion has nothing to do with the Sanada-gumi. In fact, we've gained more new members in the last two years than the ten years prior to that. We are growing, and if anything, it's because of our diplomatic relationship with the Sanada-gumi, not in spite of it.”

“In the last two years, huh? Sounds like they joined to rise up against the competition, not bow to it,” Song remarks with a smarmy grin crossing his face while wordlessly telling Han to pour another cup of soju, which he does. The conflict-inciting officer downs his third cup in the few minutes his guest has been in the room.

Atreus hangs his head and takes another deep breath. He's trying desperately to keep his composure, but it's clear that there's almost zero hope for Song to be reasonable. Even if he does manage to finally acquire what he came here for, it may take a while to do it.

“Either way, we can argue till we're all blue in the face about my desire to push back against the clan, but no matter how you slice it, the Palan Byeol Pa has no obligation to help you with your investigation.” Song shakes his head contemptuously.

“Did you seriously summon the man here in the dead of night and make him wait for half an hour in the living room just to tell him you won't give him what he came here for?” Lee continues to chastise his peer. Atreus stays silent, but is grateful that Lee is sincerely fighting for his case. He expected the officer to stay out of discussions and only speak up when absolutely necessary.

“I didn't say I wasn't going to give anything to him, I just spoke a fact – that even if we are currently on a truce, I'm under no duty to cooperate with this investigation. It's his duty, however,” Song points to Atreus, “from the perspective of his superiors, to convince me to do so,” he then points to himself. “So, Sanada-gumi errand boy, how do you plan on doing that?”

Atreus, so desperately trying to refrain from using threats, tries to wrack his brain for the correct words to say. He doesn't know Song. He doesn't know how truly deep the man's hatred for the Sanada-gumi goes, but it's apparent it goes quite far. Without a shadow of doubt, making a threat to the Blue Star officer would be used against him and paraded as support for Song's reservations. The reluctant detective can also see that attempts at typical suit-and-tie diplomacy will be torn down, as well. The ill-mannered officer is dead set on stonewalling any attempt at regular negotiations.

“Well?” Song asks, growing spitefully smug and impatient as he retrieves a cigar from a case that had been sitting next to him. “Nothing to say?” He places the head of the cigar in his mouth, and without missing a beat, Han practically conjures a lighter from thin air to lean forward and ignite the cigar's foot.