Uta runs out of the cafeteria toward his father’s office.

  Now his.

  Morning light filters through the heavy curtains.

  Mikhail’s office smells of old wood, leather… and the past.

  Uta stands before the fireplace.

  He opens drawers.

  Folders.

  Photos.

  Records.

  Names.

  Debts.

  Threats.

  Empires built on fear.

  Everything goes into the fire.

  The flames rise.

  They light his face from below.

  There is no hatred.

  There is resolve.

  He senses a presence.

  He doesn’t turn.

  — Come in.

  The door opens.

  Kuro enters first.

  That eternal smile.

  Hands in his pockets.

  Shizuka enters behind him.

  Straight-backed.

  Silent.

  Analyzing the smoke, the papers, Uta’s expression.

  She already understands that something enormous has just broken.

  Uta sits in his father’s chair.

  He shifts uncomfortably.

  Too stiff.

  Too… Mikhail.

  He adjusts.

  Puts his feet up on the desk.

  Leans back.

  And laughs.

  — I know what I’m going to do.

  Kuro tilts his head, amused.

  Shizuka already suspects she won’t like it.

  — I’m going to dissolve the Krov’…

  — as a mafia.

  A pause.

  A crooked smile.

  — And we’re going to help people with whatever they need.

  Silence.

  One second.

  Two.

  Kuro bursts into laughter.

  Doubles over.

  Clutches his stomach.

  — HAHAHA— wait— is this a joke? —HAHAHA— oh boss— I almost died—

  Shizuka closes her eyes.

  Pinches the bridge of her nose.

  Breathes.

  Slowly.

  — …What’s your plan?

  Uta blinks.

  — Plan?

  Kuro drops to his knees laughing.

  Shizuka loses patience.

  Her eyes sharpen.

  — That’s not a decision, that’s structured suicide.

  She steps up to the desk.

  Plants her hands on it.

  — Krov’ Imperiya controls routes, weapons, information, political favors, international debts.

  — If it disappears, the vacuum will be filled by worse monsters.

  — We don’t live in a fairy tale, Uta.

  Uta looks at her.

  Smiles.

  — I know.

  That stops her.

  — That’s exactly why.

  He leans forward.

  — If a criminal empire can control half the world…

  — then it can protect it too.

  Kuro stops laughing.

  Listens.

  — I’m not destroying the network.

  He taps the desk with one finger.

  — I’m turning it.

  Shizuka stares at him, surprised.

  Kuro grins, eyes shining.

  — So… we’re good villains?

  Uta leans back in the chair.

  Crosses his arms.

  — No.

  — We’re the problem of problems.

  Kuro presses a hand to his chest, moved.

  — I like it.

  Shizuka, beside them, looks distant.

  As if her brain is trying to evacuate the building.

  Uta suddenly stands.

  Palms on the desk.

  Chaotic energy.

  — Gather all the Krov.

  — We’re having a super meeting.

  Kuro tilts his head.

  — This is going to go very badly.

  Shizuka finally snaps back.

  Steps forward.

  — Uta, listen carefully. The Krov structure is sustained by balance of power, fear, and tacit agreements. If you announce something like this without a gradual transition, without faction control, without an operational redistribution plan, and without considering how the Akaryuu will react—

  Uta approaches.

  Calm.

  Too calm.

  He places a finger on her lips.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Shizuka freezes.

  Color rushing to her face.

  Eyes wide.

  System crash.

  Uta, smiling:

  — Everything will be fine.

  — Notify the leaders of the Krov Council.

  Shizuka blinks.

  Recomposes herself.

  Straightens her posture.

  Becomes ice again.

  — …Yes, Mr. Dragunov.

  She leaves the room with firm steps.

  But inside, her mind is already designing ten contingency plans.

  Kuro steps closer to Uta.

  His smile is smaller now.

  More real.

  — You know they won’t like this.

  — They’ll try to remove you from power.

  Uta slams his fist into his palm.

  A dry sound.

  — Then let them come.

  He turns.

  Light washes over his face.

  His eyes are no longer joking.

  — That way I’ll know who was loyal…

  — and who only obeyed out of fear.

  Kuro smiles.

  That smile that appears before violence.

  — Problems… I like problems.

  Meanwhile, in a long corridor—

  Shizuka mutters as she walks quickly:

  — This is madness…

  A soft voice cuts through the air.

  Playful.

  Almost childish.

  But wrong.

  Voice:

  — The big guy already made his decision, huh? Heehee…

  Shizuka stops.

  Slowly turns her head.

  Leaning against the wall.

  One foot raised.

  A coin spinning between his fingers.

  As if the world were a game he’s already seen end.

  Akihiro Dragunov

  Ash-blond hair, wavy, a lock falling over one eye.

  Old white shirt, patched.

  Worn dark vest.

  Sleeves rolled up.

  Elegant boots… scarred by ruins.

  Blue-gray eyes that don’t quite look.

  Height: 1.78 m

  The coin vanishes.

  Reappears.

  Vanishes again.

  Shizuka:

  — He’s decided on madness.

  Akihiro tilts his smile.

  — I thought you were smarter.

  Shizuka pins him with a cold stare.

  — Explain.

  The coin spins over his knuckles.

  Akihiro:

  — It seems you don’t really know Uta, Shizuka.

  He pushes off the wall.

  Walks slowly.

  — That green gorilla doesn’t make impulsive decisions.

  He raises a finger.

  — He makes it look like he does.

  The coin spins.

  He catches it.

  — He jokes when he’s hurt.

  — He acts clumsy when he’s already measured the room.

  — He laughs when he’s already decided to break something.

  He looks at her directly now.

  For the first time, serious.

  — If he said that…

  — it’s because he chose to protect us all.

  Shizuka falls silent.

  Connecting the pieces.

  — …So this isn’t an ideal.

  Akihiro:

  — It’s a purge with a pretty speech.

  He smiles again.

  — Very Uta-style.

  A brief silence.

  Shizuka exhales.

  — Can you do me a favor?

  The coin stops.

  Akihiro pockets it.

  A small, interested smile.

  A while later, in the meeting hall.

  The double doors open.

  The Krov Council Chamber is not elegant.

  It is intimidating.

  A long table of black wood cuts across the room like a scar.

  Hierarchy is palpable.

  The walls are covered in symbols and banners of ancient criminal wars.

  Seated around it:

  Mikhail’s old soldiers

  Visible scars.

  War-hardened eyes.

  Loyalty to fear, not legacy.

  Opportunists

  Expensive suits.

  Fake smiles.

  Fingers heavy with rings.

  Eyes calculating how much power they can steal today.

  And then—

  A presence heavier than all of them.

  Ivanov Migirosu — 50 years old

  Monstrous height: 1.92 m

  Black leather coat with rusted metal pauldrons.

  Slow steps.

  Boots sounding like hammer blows.

  Black hair slicked back, gray at the temples.

  A face carved by war.

  A scar splitting his mouth up to his cheekbone.

  A permanently broken smile.

  Metallic gray eyes with an icy blue glint.

  The cursed saber Krov-Led rests on his back.

  Black bone scabbard.

  He smells of incense…

  and gunpowder.

  He sits without asking permission.

  The chair creaks,

  as if protesting the weight it must bear.

  Silence fills the room.

  Because everyone knows:

  If Mikhail was punishment…

  Ivanov was the executioner.

  The doors open again.

  Uta enters last.

  Kuro on his right.

  Shizuka on his left.

  Conversations die one by one.

  He sits at the head of the table.

  Without looking at anyone.

  He rests his elbows on the table.

  — Let’s end this quickly.

  Uncomfortable silence.

  — The Krov are leaving the criminal sector.

  — No more trafficking, extortion, or territory wars.

  — We’ll use our resources to protect neighborhoods, clean streets, help real people.

  A pause.

  — If we’re going to be monsters… at least we’ll be monsters on their side.

  The room explodes.

  Shouts.

  Insults.

  Chairs scraping.

  Fists slamming the table.

  “Traitor!”

  “Madness!”

  “This will destroy us!”

  And then—

  click

  The sound of a lighter.

  Ivanov exhales smoke slowly.

  Smiles with his twisted scar.

  — What a beautiful speech… full of colors.

  He takes a deep drag.

  — But the world doesn’t run on poetry, boy. It runs on fear.

  He looks at Uta.

  — You dishonor your father’s name.

  — And for that… this room will be your tomb.

  Some men stand.

  Hands go to weapons.

  Others already knew this moment would come.

  Ivanov reaches toward Krov-Led.

  The bone scabbard creaks.

  But he doesn’t touch it.

  In a blink—

  Kuro is in front of him.

  Dagger on the table.

  Dead eyes.

  — Move.

  — And I’ll kill you.

  zzt

  Invisible threads tighten the room.

  Wrists trapped.

  Weapons frozen.

  Necks restrained.

  Shizuka.

  Breathing hard.

  But steady.

  And then—

  The air changes.

  A dark green aura begins to seep from Uta.

  Heavy.

  Like a boiling swamp.

  The walls vibrate.

  The floor groans.

  The shape concentrates behind him.

  A silhouette.

  An abstract crocodile made of aura.

  Jaws open.

  Pupil-less eyes.

  The weakest tremble.

  Breathe fast.

  They feel something watching them from the darkness of their own minds.

  Uta stands.

  — You think the world is held together by fear.

  — I grew up believing that too.

  He looks at Ivanov.

  — I saw what that system builds.

  — Corpses.

  — Broken children.

  — Mothers who choose death over continuing to breathe.

  The room falls silent.

  — I’m not repeating that.

  The aura expands.

  — I don’t need your agreement.

  — I don’t need your blessing.

  — Only your decision.

  He stops at the head of the table.

  The energy crocodile opens its jaws behind him.

  It roars.

  — From today on, the Krov change.

  — Or you step aside.

  — Or you face me.

  His eyes glow dark green.

  — But understand one thing…

  Absolute silence.

  — I didn’t come to be your leader.

  — I came to be the problem—

  The aura slams into the floor.

  Cracks race through the hall.

  — of all problems.

  The dark green aura coils one last time.

  The crocodile opens its mouth…

  …and dissolves like smoke swallowed by the ceiling.

  The pressure vanishes.

  But the fear does not.

  Ivanov straightens his coat.

  Runs his thumb along the scar on his mouth.

  — What you just did…

  He spits on the floor.

  — That’s a death sentence for the Krov.

  His gray eyes gleam cold.

  — Gouma won’t allow this.

  — The other territories won’t either.

  He turns away.

  — You’ve just declared war on the entire continent.

  Uta doesn’t raise his voice.

  — Perfect.

  Some stop when they hear it.

  — I know we’ll lose money.

  — I know attacks will come.

  — I know they’ll call us traitors.

  He looks around the table.

  — But if we’re going to fight…

  — let it be for something worth protecting.

  Pause.

  — You have one week.

  — One.

  — To decide whether you’re vultures…

  — or guardians.

  He points to the door.

  — After that, anyone who stays in the past…

  His eyes harden.

  — stays out of the Krov.

  Silence.

  No one argues.

  Because they know he isn’t negotiating.

  One by one, they stand.

  Some furious.

  Others thoughtful.

  Two already planning betrayal.

  Ivanov passes by Kuro.

  Kuro grins wide.

  — Take care of that sword, grandpa. Wouldn’t want it slipping when your hands start shaking.

  Ivanov doesn’t reply.

  But he clenches his jaw so hard his scar seems to split wider.

  The doors close.

  The hall is empty.

  Shizuka releases the breath she’d been holding.

  — …You really looked like a leader.

  Uta scratches his head.

  — Huh? I was just improvising. I was going to say something deeper, but I forgot halfway through.

  Shizuka stares at him.

  Speechless.

  Kuro leans in.

  — Revolutionary boss, savior of the people… are you going to cry later, or is that premium content?

  Uta flicks him on the forehead.

  — Don’t interrupt, I’m being a professional drama queen.

  He walks toward the exit.

  Stops at the door.

  Dawn light pours through the hallway windows.

  He smiles.

  — Welcome…

  He looks at his two companions.

  — to the new dawn.