Atreus sighs before looking up and finally returning Song's stern, humorless leer. “Do you believe that you have your gang's best interest in mind in everything that you do?”

“Of course I do,” Song answers immediately, partially offended at the question. Smoke from his first puffs begin bellowing from his mouth.

“I feel the same way about mine,” the yakuza replies with a softened voice but with maintained eye contact. “I'm sure you've noticed my arms already.” He lifts up his two charcoal-colored, tungsten-plated limbs. “And I'm sure you know who I am. I lost these arms in the incident two years ago, by throwing an already dead body – then myself – on top of a grenade that landed near my chairman and his senior advisor. My lungs, rib cage, and stomach also saw some damage. I know what it means to give everything to your clan, because I've already given my body to mine.”

Song, having calmed his expression to something more neutral – even a bit reflective – quietly takes another draw from his cigar. He may argue against the intentions or helpfulness of the truce between the gangs or Atreus's visit, but he can't debate what he already knows, nor Atreus's own personal feelings on being a Sanada-gumi member.

“I was tasked with the job to investigate this murder, because of the sacrifice I made; I was chosen because of my willingness to put the clan ahead of myself. I didn't ask for it; I was given it.” Atreus's voice and eyes gradually become more aggressive, nearly turning his speech into a rant. “I didn't anticipate the investigation bringing me here, into the den of lions responsible for ruining my body, but once I knew that it would, I swallowed my pride and decided to come with good will and diplomatic intentions. I don't want to be here; I need to be. Not for myself, but for the good of the Sanada-gumi.

“If you don't want to give me what I came here for, then that's fine. I'll be continuing my investigation regardless. However, I can't guarantee how my superiors will respond once they learn I left here empty-handed because of an explicit refusal to cooperate from Song Kyang-chul, nor do I think you can guarantee how your superiors will respond if they learn the same thing. If you truly insist that you always have your organization's best interests in mind, then I would ask that you stop and think, very carefully, about the pros and cons of both giving me the information I need, and refusing to.”

Another silence falls among the men. Song takes another deep draw of the cigar in his right hand, while lightly tapping the surface of the wooden table with fingertips of his left. His blank, contemplative gaze is aimed forward and slightly down, growing with intensity with each passing moment. Atreus's speech successfully gave him a lot to consider.

“You must've heard about my reputation,” Song eventually speaks up, this time in a far more relaxed manner. He turns his head to look at Atreus again, his expression now appearing more contemplative than hostile. “I'm sure people among your clan have spoken on my desire to start a war with them. What do you think about that?”

Atreus inhales deeply. “I don't know you, Mr. Song. I don't know what goes on inside your head, so I don't know if you truly want war. But if you want what's best for your clan, then why risk war because you simply didn't give me a receipt?” he answers, quietly hoping he picked the rights words to respond with. “Frankly, I think that if you truly wanted a war, you wouldn't have let me talk for this long to begin with.” He gives a very matter-of-fact delivery, hoping that the implication of the statement is enough of an answer for his host.

Lee lifts his head and furrows his brow a bit at the response, unsure of how effective it may be against his belligerent colleague; it may even bear the opposite of the intended result. However, Song doesn't become defensive, or even agitated. The officer simply resumes taking another draw from his cigar while glaring forward with melancholic eyes. Even more dense quiet befalls them; the stillness in the air almost makes it difficult to breathe.

Song, with his cigar still perched securely between his lips, suddenly moves his right hand to his waist. In less than a second, he pulls a handgun up – a semi-automatic pistol with blackened steel finish – and lies it flat on the table, with the end of the barrel facing Atreus, who quickly becomes uneasy, but doesn't move. He didn't notice the gun at first because he was sitting to Song's left, but feels he should've expected the man to have one. The yakuza clenches his jaw and maintains a concrete gaze at the man himself. Lee's eyes widen; he feels an overpowering and immediate sense of confusion, worry, and anger all at once.

“Song Kyang-chul!” Lee exclaims, trying to stop his fellow officer from doing whatever it is he plans on doing.

Song, however, ignores him, keeping his right palm rested on the gun, which seems to be loaded. He shares another locked stare with Atreus for a moment before picking up the firearm, removing the magazine, resting it on the table, and ejecting the bullet in the chamber, too. Song sets the bullet down by standing it up on the head of its blackened brass casing in front of his guest. The projectile is a dark blue color with many tiny ridges along its surface, presumably where the bullet fragments.

“This is a 9mm VF+ round,” Song announces. “We don't carry very much of them, due to how much of a punishment you can get for possessing non-standard ammunition in California, so we charge a premium for them. Because of that, it's not a particularly popular item, but when someone does buy some, you can bet they're gonna use 'em, almost certainly on another person.”

Atreus and Lee both soften their stiff expressions and relax their bodies. It seems Song has ultimately decided to cooperate, and instead of asking why or stating so out loud, the yakuza simply goes along with it.

“When was the most recent purchase of them?” Atreus asks.

“Han,” Song turns to his man. “Show him your papers.”

“Yes, sir,” Han finally speaks for the first time since the meeting began, and places a normal notebook on the table. “I keep a record of all of my sales – hand-written at first, before I make a spreadsheet on my computer.” He opens the notebook to a specific page, then turns it and slides it to Atreus. “My most recent sale of VF+ ammo was five days before the murder.”

Atreus brings the notebook closer and scans its contents, soon finding a listing for a sale of a single box of fifty cartridges. On the two pages he sees, sales go back a few weeks, but he doesn't see another sale for the ammo in that time period.

“And when was the last sale before that?” the yakuza asks.

“Over three months ago. Mr. Song wasn't joking when he said they don't necessarily fly off shelves. They're... an 'enthusiast's' item, you can say.”

“How much do they cost?”

“The box of fifty rounds goes for six hundred.”

“Six hundred for a box of fifty?” Atreus reels back, flabbergasted at the insane price. It's well over twenty times the cost of any other box of standard ammo. “Why's it so expensive?”

“Including the laws Mr. Song mentioned, VF+ rounds are partially hand-made in a single factory in Germany, using a very specific process exclusive to the cartridge. They produce only about twenty thousand rounds a year. You can kill a person very easily with a single center mass shot, and it doesn't have to be anywhere near the heart because the fragmentation spreads so wide, it'll likely still shred it anyway. The higher velocity also grants it a far greater travel distance than other cartridges. For anyone who only shoots for fun or for sport, it's obviously not worth it, but if you want to kill something, and kill it really good, it could be worth the price, because no other other 9mm cartridge does as much damage to the human body as VF+ rounds do.”

“I guess if most people want to just shoot someone, they wouldn't be particular about what kind of rounds they use, just that they work.”

Han nods. “Precisely. People who go out of their way to buy VF+ rounds know what they're doing; they're professionals, almost certainly. Or, at the very least, well researched.”

“Did you catch the purchaser's name, at all?”

“He didn't give one.”

“Do you remember what he looked like? Was he Japanese? Korean?”

“Well, he was certainly Asian,” Han answers, tilting his head to recall any finer details of his patron's appearance. “But I can't tell you what ethnicity, specifically; we spoke English for the entire transaction. He didn't have any noticeable scars or tattoos, he was covered in black clothes from head to toe. Face-wise, he looked too normal to really describe.”

Atreus, realizing something important, takes his phone out, and immediately opens the photo Bessho's men took of the unknown intruder who broke into Takiyama's apartment. The mysterious man is wearing all-black clothing, and while it's hard to make out any details on his face, he has vaguely Asian traits. Hoping for the best, Atreus slides the phone to Han.

“This photo was taken the other night,” the yakuza begins explaining. “It's a man who broke into an apartment belonging to someone who might be involved with the murder. It's not the best picture, because it was taken at a distance with poor lighting, but does he look familiar to you?”

Han picks up the phone and closely examines the image. “Well, his face isn't terribly clear.” He tries to squint to hopefully make out anything significant. “But he does seem to be wearing the same clothes my customer had on: black long-sleeve shirt, black pants, black everything. Even his hair seems to be the same length. If I had to say if it were the same guy or not, I'd say it likely is.” Han, satisfied with his own examination, returns the phone.

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“Has this guy been a customer before?”

“No, this was his first time buying from me.”

“How was he able to find you?”

“We basically run on a referral program. We don't accept new customers unless they're brought to us by an established one, usually another Blue Start member.”

“So another Blue Star member brought him in?” Atreus perks up slightly, pleased to hear of a potential concrete link between the mysterious man and the murder. “Who was it?”

“It was one of my own boys, Marvin Choi. The two apparently met at Club Romania, but I don't know anything beyond that.”

“Has the police come to question anybody in the Blue Star yet?”

“Not that I know of. At the very least, they haven't questioned me.”

“Would it be possible to get into contact with Marvin?”

Han nods. “Sure, I can call him right now, in fact. Though, I can't guarantee he won't be busy. I haven't even seen him in a couple days. At this time of night, he's usually out and about somewhere, either with friends, at the club, the movies, anything.”

“I'd certainly appreciate giving it try. It'd cut down time.”

“Of course,” Han nods and retrieves his own smartphone from his pocket. He opens his contacts list and selects 'Marvin Choi'. He then slides the phone over to Atreus. “Here, I'll let you do the honors.”

Atreus quietly accepts the offer, and presses the 'Call' button to dial him up. He presses the speaker button so everyone can hear the hopefully oncoming conversation. As the ring tone continues to sound, all men in the room stare at the device with bated breath, hoping Marvin will be there to answer. The yakuza is particularly anxious, as this could speed up his investigation by an unforeseen amount. The repetitive tone continues blaring for three rings, four, five; the wait feels much longer than it actually is. Suddenly, the voice of a young man is heard.

“Hey, this is Marvin. I'm not able to answer right now, so leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks,” Marvin's rigid delivery of his prerecorded voicemail message plays, with a loud beep to punctuate it.

“Sorry about that.” Han laments while taking his phone back. “I suppose he's busy, after all. I can keep trying as the night goes on. He'll eventually answer, and when he does, I'll set up a meeting. Is that okay?”

“That's fine.” Atreus then turns to Lee. “If it's alright with you, would you be willing to act as the middleman here?”

“Absolutely,” Lee accepts the arrangement wholeheartedly. “Once Mr. Han has spoken to Marvin, he can call me, and I can call you to set up some sort of meeting. Is that alright with everyone?”

“Yes, sir,” Han acknowledges with a small bow.

“Perfect.” Atreus, content with the progress he's made in the short meeting, heaves a sigh of relief. “That's basically everything I needed to hear. Once I can get some info from Marvin, I can finally track this person down directly.”

After convincing Song to cooperate, the rest of the meeting was both short and helpful, going basically as well as it could've gone. By soon getting in contact with Marvin Choi, Atreus might finally be able to go straight after the killer instead of chasing around uncertain leads.

“I think I have all the information I need,” Atreus declares. “Hopefully this hunt is over soon after I talk to Marvin. Thank you for your cooperation.” He gives a deep bow of gratitude to his hosts, Han returns it courteously while Song stays straight and stone-faced.

“I'll escort you out,” Lee announces. He and Atreus stand and begin to make for the exit.

“Hey, boy,” Song's thunderous voice calls out.

Atreus, instinctively knowing it's himself being spoken to, turns around. “Yes?”

Song's expression becomes calm. “While you're still here, I just want to clear the air on something. I had nothing to do with the incident two years ago. Didn't know the guys who did it, didn't know any attack on the Sanada-gumi was planned from anyone, at any time. That's the truth.” He speaks with the firm, unflinching gaze of someone who truly believes in their own words.

Atreus pauses for a moment before nodding softly in acceptance. “Okay. I believe you. But you still agreed with the attack after it happened, right?”

“Only the political meaning of it – that they were men who were tired of walking on eggshells around the Sanada-gumi. I never defended them attacking people in broad daylight.”

“Fair enough,” the yakuza's lips curl into a smirk so slight, it's almost imperceptible. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Song.” He gives one last quick bow before continuing out the door and back into the second floor hallway, where Lee begins lead his guest back to the entrance.

“That actually went far better than I anticipated,” Lee admits with a slightly puzzled expression accompanied by a content shrug. “I expected to get into another shouting match like I always do when I interact with him. How'd you know what to say to him to get him to cooperate?”

“Well, he was saying what he was saying in order to make it seem like it was up to me to decide whether he'd cooperate or not,” Atreus begins to explain his train of thought. “So, I decided to use my own honest feelings about the whole situation to turn it around. I wasn't certain it would work, but I'm sure that even if it didn't, it'd be closer to success than trying to be 'professional'.”

“Yes, he's always had little patience for sterilized office room talk; he's a man of blunt nature. You're satisfied with all of the information you've received, yes?”

Atreus nods. “I am. I wasn't expecting there to be another person – Marvin – who would serve as a direct link to the purchaser of the ammunition. Once I speak to him, this investigation might finally be over.”

“Do you have any guesses as to who the killer may be?”

“One thing that's extremely clear to me now is the fact that he's a consummate professional – buying VF+ ammo, not using his name or a non-English language when doing so, ensuring he looks plain so he's borderline beyond physical description, killing Will Camlin at the right time and place to ensure he'd avoid being spotted by police drones. It all points to someone who knows what they're doing, and they're very good at doing it,” the criminal detective recounts all of the evidence in a way that can almost come off as admiration of the killer's immaculate ability to cover his tracks.

“He avoided police drones?” Lee repeats, shocked at the news. “How do you know that?”

“I heard it straight from the horse's mouth: a cop that I know.”

“Jesus. This bastard is slippery.”

“Yeah, and that's why I need things to move along as fast as possible. Who knows what his next move will be, assuming his mission isn't yet totally complete, and there's a solid chance it may not be.”

“I'll make sure Han calls Marvin tonight, and we'll try to set up a meeting as soon as humanly possible. Best case, you could get it in the morning.”

“That would be ideal.”

The two men soon reach the first floor living room again, where Atreus slips his shoes back on and is escorted back to the front foyer.

“Well, it was a pleasure to finally meet you,” Lee declares with a smile. “I think Mr. Okada chose the right person for the job. I'm still surprised Song was handled so well by a Sanada-gumi member, of all people. Your reputation is earned.”

“I have a reputation among the Blue Star?” Atreus asks, dumbfounded at the thought that he might be as well-known among the Korean mafia as he is in his home territory.

Lee nods. “Absolutely. The senior officers who spoke against the attack have heard of your bravery, and admire you for it. If they knew you'd be here, they'd probably come to personally shake your hand. They consider your actions to be the definition of loyalty to one's gang.”

“That's... strange to hear, I'll admit,” the yakuza has a difficult time processing the idea of receiving admiration from such an unlikely place. “For a while, I sort of... hated the Blue Star, almost as much as Song hates the Sanada-gumi. I resented you guys a lot for what happened to me, and when I was told I'd be coming here, some of that resentment came back.”

“I understand,” the elder man nods with somber acknowledgment of Atreus's hardships. “I don't blame you for being angry with us. Even if the attack was unsanctioned, we still failed to stop it. It caused a lot of tension between the two gangs that could've been avoided, and if I could go back and prevent it, I absolutely would. But since we're here, face to face, I want to formally apologize on behalf of the Palan Byeol Pa for what happened to you.” Lee takes a deep bow and holds it for three full seconds.

“I... appreciate the gesture,” Atreus reluctantly accepts the apology.

“If you don't mind me asking, what was life like for you after the incident?” the senior officer asks with his brow furrowed with attentive interest.

“Well, after the physical therapy and such, I eventually returned to my normal duties only to found out I had gained the reputation of some hero. People who weren't even in my family were treating me like I was the chairman or something. It was weird. Still is, even though it's died down a bit.”

“I can imagine getting a lot of unwanted attention for that one act.”

“Yeah. That and more,” Atreus nods and remarks softly, almost totally under his breath. He thinks back to yesterday's conversation with Okada, and his plans to groom Atreus into a future chairman. Such an idea wouldn't exist even as a synapse in the advisor's head if it weren't for Atreus's selfless feat that cost him his arms but gained him unprecedented status. “Anyway, I should get going. I should report back to my family head and let him know how it went.”

“Of course. Again, it was nice to finally meet you.” Lee extends his hand out.

“Likewise.” Atreus grabs it and gives a firm shake.

“Oh, before I forget, I need your number,” the Blue Star officer retrieves his phone and opens the contacts list before handing it to Atreus.

“Sure,” the yakuza quickly adds his name and number and returns the phone.

“I'll be sure to contact you the instant Han contacts Marvin.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help. I don't know how this investigation would go if I didn't know anyone in the Blue Star to find out who sold the ammunition.”

“I just want to maintain a friendly relationship between our two factions, and being cooperative when the other is in dire need of urgent information is good way to do that.”

“Right. Well, I'll talk to you later, then. Thank you for having me,” Atreus gives a humble bow.

“Anytime,” Lee returns it with one of his own.

Atreus finally exits the massive mansion, and makes his way across the front yard, back through the gate, withstanding more perplexed and hostile glares of Blue Star guards, and down the stone path leading to the sidewalk, where he summons a new Automa to take him back to the Asano family office.