Chapter 100 – The One Who Wronged You Knows Better Than You How Wronged You Are
A month passed quickly.
Maybe it was because being promoted to Colonel gave him more authority, but this time, Yamcha's request for an upgrade to the gravity chamber was granted unusually fast.
Five times gravity!
"Partner, get ready. We're going on a trip."
Yamcha spoke to the Dark WarGreymon, who was enjoying a coffee pudding.
He had already arranged the schedule for the next world — both to obtain certain items and to test a few things.
Theoretically, there was no danger. But just to be safe, he figured it'd be best to bring Dark WarGreymon along.
It was still the Hunter × Hunter world.
The overall danger level of that world wasn't too high, though the later stages were filled with eerie and mysterious elements. That was the part Yamcha wasn't confident about.
By the way, Yamcha had attempted to give Dark WarGreymon a Stand. As long as it wasn't some "cheap trick" kind of Stand that did nothing but add negative effects, it could greatly enhance Dark WarGreymon's combat ability. But the Arrow had zero reaction to him.
Before heading to that world, Yamcha draped a large trench coat over Dark WarGreymon to hide his appearance.
Although magical beasts existed in the Hunter × Hunter world — some even cooperating with humans (like the Kyuu Fox family) — those living among human society usually kept themselves disguised.
Once again, they arrived at Youkexin City, a place glittering with neon lights and decadence.
Once again, at the lavish, gold-plated Mojito Grand Restaurant.
Once again, on the top floor.
Once again, in that private office.
Once again, it was Kairal Mojito.
The office was thick with the stench of alcohol. Kairal, the Mojito family head, was red-faced, stinking of booze and sweat. He sprawled across the sofa, surrounded by empty bottles.
Who knew how much he had drunk?
Reaching out with his right hand, he groped around until his fingers touched the cool surface of glass. He grabbed a wine bottle, bit off the cork with his teeth — pop! — and started chugging straight from the bottle.
His mouth was only so big, so a good amount of the wine dribbled down his face and splattered on the floor.
In no time, an expensive bottle of wine — one most people couldn't afford in a lifetime — was wasted, half drunk, half spilled.
He muttered and cursed without end, vulgar and nasty words pouring from his mouth like a flooded river.
"Damn you, Jenki! Damn you, Beane! You bastards are the reason I lost my job hosting the auction!"
"I did such a good job! Why replace me?! Why strip the Mojito family of its honor?!"
"Damn those Ten Dons!"
"I worked so hard all these years! I made so many contributions! I made so much money for you people!"
"You sons of &%$#&@!!"
"And now that I'm useless, you kick me aside like a dog!"
"Just like a dog! Just like a dog!"
"Boohoohoo..."
His curses turned to sobs. Like a child weighing over 200 pounds, he bawled his eyes out.
Who said men don't cry? They just haven't reached their breaking point.
"You look pathetic, Kairal."
A cold voice suddenly echoed through the room, cutting off his ranting.
"Bastard! I told everyone—no one is allowed to—"
"Drunk out of your mind? Can't even recognize my voice?"
The voice was like an icy wind cutting through winter, snapping Kairal back to his senses in an instant.
That voice — so unforgettable.
"My Lord! Lord Yamcha!"
"It's really you!"
"I'm not dreaming, am I?!"
The owner of that voice had made him rich, saved him from ruin, rescued his family, and brought them back to glory. It was also that same voice's departure that had caused his family to fall back into the abyss.
Kairal's bloodshot, yellow-tinged eyes widened, trying to focus.
He saw him — the man, Yamcha — standing right there before him.
Once again, he had appeared in his darkest moment.
"Please, let me follow in your footsteps! I'll even offer you my soul!"
Kairal crawled and stumbled to Yamcha's feet, trying to kiss his shoes despite reeking of alcohol.
But Yamcha backed away in disgust.
"I'll give you thirty minutes."
"Sober up."
To Kairal, those words were like a royal decree. He bowed respectfully, then staggered off toward the bathroom.
"I don't like this place."
Only after Kairal was gone did Dark WarGreymon speak, his face full of disdain. He didn't understand why his partner would seek out such a human.
Snap!
Yamcha snapped his fingers lightly. His telekinesis activated, conjuring a mini whirlwind that cleaned the air and swept away the bottles.
"Even an eraser has its purpose."
That was Yamcha's only explanation to Dark WarGreymon.
Thirty minutes later, Kairal returned to the room — freshened up and more lucid, though still slightly drunk.
"My Lord!"
Now that he was sober, Kairal was noticeably more reserved, as if terrified that his earlier behavior had offended Yamcha.
Although this was his office, Yamcha was the one now sitting in the master's chair, and Kairal — the rightful owner — stood like a subordinate awaiting orders, seeing nothing wrong with it.
"Tell me what's happened since I left."
"How did you end up like this?"
Yamcha's question eased Kairal's nerves a little.
"My Lord..."
Kairal took a moment to organize his thoughts, then recounted everything that happened after Yamcha left.
In summary, it all boiled down to two words: framed and scapegoated.
It was just standard procedure in the mafia world. People fought over two things: money and power.
Kairal's popularity at the auction had made him a target. Despite earning massive profits, the Mojito family's influence was relatively small. Worse, they didn't align themselves fully with any of the Ten Dons.
So everything followed a predictable script.
After endless schemes and sabotage, most of their wealth was taken, and their power severely weakened.
Eventually, they were pushed out of the major mafia circles, leaving Kairal drowning his sorrows in booze.
(End of Chapter)