Currently, the largest agent of the Dawn Resources Group in Japan is Morita Aoya—mainly responsible for serving the Missy.
If things get out of hand, just have Morita Aoya bow and do a private Marseille.
I already apologized, what more do you want from me?
What, are you not satisfied?
” Saiyonji-kun is also a very strong person.”
Yuki Asahi said with emotion.
Although I don’t know the reason he chose that kind of job… it must be because he was desperate for money, right?
“Hard to say.”
Saiyonji didn’t go to school today, and his phone was still left at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department—
He probably didn’t know about the online rumors yet.
The midday light pierced through the expensive velvet curtains, landing on Saiyonji’s eyelids as he curled up under the blanket.
Struggling awake from a hazy sleep, the exhaustion seeping from his body made his limbs creak.
Yesterday, after being injected with anesthetics and illegal drugs repeatedly, even with Yamanoi Yayoi’s ability to remove side effects, it was hard to completely erase the mark.
Instinctively reaching toward the pillow, Saiyonji dazedly recalled that all his belongings were still at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.
After getting up and washing briefly, he changed into the new clothes prepared by the maid.
His student uniform from yesterday had already been taken away for cleaning, and the soft new fabric against his skin reminded him that he wasn’t in that cramped place anymore—but in Egami’s unfamiliar mansion.
Bored, Saiyonji wandered the fourth floor, a mix of curiosity and unease prompting him to gently open door after door.
Every room he saw was a tastefully arranged guest chamber, consistent in style.
Layered corridors and closed doors made this floor feel like a silent hotel—so empty it was unsettling.
“Are you hungry?”
Akimoto Miki’s voice came unexpectedly from behind, startling Saiyonji so much he spun around, his face flushing red, as if he’d been caught peeking—well, he was peeking, more or less.
“Uh… Really… Sorry for troubling you…”
He bowed his head awkwardly, instinctively clutching the hem of his new clothes.
He didn’t have a single yen on him—how could he even think of going out for a meal?
“You don’t need to be so polite.”
Akimoto Miki’s posture was impeccably graceful, her hands folded in front of her abdomen, a gentle ceremonial smile on her face.
“You are Missy’s honored guest.”
Her tone was steady yet warm, lacking any professional coldness—more like a big sister next door.
Saiyonji was guided to a small lounge at the stairway, offering a panoramic view.
As the elevator doors slid open, a younger short-haired maid pushed a food cart out gracefully.
A pale scar on her cheek didn’t mar her features but instead gave her a touch of coolness.
The silver lid on the cart was lifted, revealing dishes so rich it exceeded Saiyonji’s imagination, their tantalizing aroma instantly spreading.
Akimoto Miki spoke again:
“I don’t know your taste preferences, Saiyonji-kun. If there’s any shortcoming, please forgive us. You can order anything you like; our chefs should be able to accommodate.”
“No need, no need!”
Saiyonji waved his hands in front of the lavish spread, voice tinged with awe.
“This is a bit too luxurious, isn’t it?”
“This is our standard employee meal.”
Akimoto Miki replied calmly, as if stating the most ordinary fact.
Saiyonji was completely stunned by the extravagance, unable to speak for a long time.
So this is what the upper world is like?
Saiyonji had encountered some wealthy clients before—but compared to this kind of true conglomerate, there was a gap that could never be crossed.
“Then, I’ll excuse myself.”
Akimoto Miki nodded slightly.
“If you need anything, please give instructions to this ‘Meko’ at any time. There’s no need to feel constrained.”
The short-haired maid with the scar, “Meko,” bowed quietly behind Saiyonji, her posture respectful and serene.
Saiyonji sat by the window at the dining table, feeling slightly out of place.
The terrain of Mejiro was actually lower compared to Toshima, but the location of Jiang Jian Apartment was quite advantageous, allowing a panoramic view of Toshima’s cityscape.
However, the peace was suddenly shattered.
A discordant clamor pierced through the glass.
Saiyonji’s hand gripping the silver spoon froze in midair.
He frowned and stood up, gaze darting anxiously toward the ground floor—
In the open area beneath the apartment, several agitated men were waving banners and shouting into megaphones:
” Murder enterprise! Dawn Resources Group, get out of Japan! “
“Hand over the protected criminal Saiyonji! The culprit must be punished!”
Behind them, more reporters held cameras and microphones.
Clang—
Saiyonji’s silver spoon fell onto the table, trembling on the surface.
His gaze swept frantically over the chaos below, his mind going blank.
They really… showed up at the door.
The problem he had tried to suppress deep inside himself, blaming fatigue and unfamiliar surroundings—
I bring trouble to others.
Now, it was displayed before his eyes in the most blatant way, impossible to ignore.
“Guests need not worry.”
The maid Meko spoke calmly, reassuring him.
“As long as you stay inside the apartment, no one can harm you.”
“But…”
“Missy has already given instructions.”
Meko interrupted.
“No matter what happens outside, it’s for us DRG to handle.”
Saiyonji’s gratitude toward Jiang Jian Yue soared once again.
She really…
I’m going to cry.
On the first floor, the noisy crowd fell briefly silent when black-suited bodyguards ran out the main entrance.
But only for a moment, before more aggressive curses and insults were hurled at the black-clad guards.
Morita Aoya followed at the back. He had originally planned to meet with some media representatives, but after seeing this, he temporarily canceled the rest of his schedule.
As the person in charge, he stood before the crowd and raised a hand for quiet.
“Silence!”
But clearly, these troublemakers had no intention of listening.
“Dawn Resources Group is so arrogant! Now you even want to block the voice of the people! You really think you’re above everyone else!”
Morita Aoya felt helpless, raising his voice.
“If you want to shout, that’s fine.”
He pointed at the ground.
“This area is part of a diplomatic compound. If you want to protest, please move away from here.”
Then he gestured at the cameras.
“Are you broadcasting live?”
The reporters looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Why not broadcast live?”
Morita Aoya’s tone was calm.
“I want to clarify something: stepping into the apartment grounds is considered, under the Special Security Act, equivalent to trespassing on a US Forces Japan base… I don’t need to explain the consequences.”
The once-boisterous crowd instantly quieted, as if choked.
They’d seen arrogance before, but never to this degree.
Equivalent to a US Forces base?
Ridiculous!
What right does your Dawn Resources Group have to compare itself to America?
In the end, the crowd dispersed, dissatisfied.
Of course, some also noticed the sniper posts atop the apartment giving up their cover.
Morita Aoya arranged a car and headed to the TV station.
On the way, he received a call from Kawasaki, the newly appointed President.
“Morita-san, online sentiment is very unfavorable toward your side. Do you need our help?”
Morita Aoya understood that by “our,” he meant those clustered around the Dawn Resources Group—the entirety of Japan’s manufacturing industry and its affiliates.
Knowing full well that this level of public opinion had zero impact on the Dawn Resources Group, which had no retail business in Japan, why bother calling?
A faint, mocking smile crossed Morita Aoya’s face.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But I do want to remind you—”
“Dawn Resources Group chose Japan not because your country is better than others, but simply because Missy happens to live in Japan.”
“If Missy feels unhappy, Japan can be replaced at any time, even if it means a loss. Compared to you, neighboring countries are easier to work with and more efficient.”
“It’s not that Dawn Resources Group needs Japan; it’s Japan that needs us.”
In these turbulent times, the only reason Japan’s fragile economy remains stable is thanks to the Dawn Resources Group’s support.
Look at how many countries have declared bankruptcy and fallen into chaos recently.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
Then the new President spoke, sounding a little frustrated.
“We have contracts…”
“You can take those papers and try your luck in Africa.”
Morita Aoya replied bluntly, finding the young President a bit too naive.
On social platforms, an account named “Dawn Resources Group-Japan” was quietly registered.
Its first post was an image.
The picture displayed the logos of all Japanese companies cooperating with the Dawn Resources Group.
Furious netizens clicked on the image and saw name after name—famous brands once symbols of Japan’s status as the East Asia Light.
Vehicles, electronics, industrial machinery, materials, precision instruments, energy, aerospace, even clothing… In short, this picture summed up nearly all of Japan’s manufacturing sector.
The caption read: Please.
Even the most radical netizens were momentarily silent.
They all knew what it meant. If it was just one or two companies, boycotting them would be fine.
But these companies basically constituted the entirety of modern Japanese life—how could they boycott their own existence?
So, the comment section turned into a battlefield for jokers and those who were already glad to see extremist factions defeated.
At most, a few sour comments popped up, but they were quickly drowned out by supporters.
Soon, a wave of “neutral” posts appeared online: things like “Internet mobs don’t care about Japan’s economy,” “We’re allies with Central Africa,” and “Central Africa needs Japan,”—all-too-familiar arguments.
Online outrage quickly subsided, returning to the main topic: Did Saiyonji go too far in self-defense?
Accusations of the Dawn Resources Group’s illegal activities were only mentioned on a few small forums, tacitly ignored by everyone else.
Collective amnesia set in instantly.
This led netizens from neighboring countries to ridicule Japan as having gained a second “dad.”
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Incredibly cucked country