Era Literária de Tóquio
Yakuza, originalmente, era o nome dado à carta mais indesejada no jogo de hanafuda japonês, aquela que fazia qualquer um reclamar ao recebê-la. Um pequeno diretor foi parar, de forma inexplicável, no
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Chapter 1: The Demon Takezo
“Takezo! Takezo!”
“Boss! Boss, you’ll be alright!”
“Dear gods, please protect our boss!”
Why is it so noisy?
Liu Qing had always been a frustrated, unrecognized director. Although he graduated from a prestigious university, he never got the resources he needed and spent his days floating around the Hengdian film lots.
To put it nicely: he was a set director or an assistant director.
To put it bluntly: an errand boy.
Last night, while browsing online, he ran into a chatty kitten and, in a fit of curiosity, started watching the second season of “XX Supervisor.” True to his manly resolve, he didn’t skip ahead, and by the time he finished, it was already the dead of night. Who knows how long he slept, but now strange voices buzzed in his ears.
Takezo?
Boss?
Wait—why is everyone speaking Japanese?
A sense of wrongness crept in. Liu Qing jolted upright, eyes snapping open—only to be stunned.
He didn’t know any of these people.
There were five before him, none of them good-looking by any stretch, but each had a distinctive presence.
Closest to him was a guy with bleached blond hair, squinty eyes, and rabbit-like teeth.
To his right, a bare-chested man with a tiger tattooed across his chest.
On his left, another shirtless man, but his arm was wrapped in white gauze, bloodstained—clearly wounded—and tattooed with a carp.
Behind these three stood two elderly men, white-haired and dressed in traditional Japanese garb. They didn’t seem