Chapter 13: What Exactly Is Red Romance?

Era Literária de Tóquio Bicicleta preta 3588 words 2026-08-04 05:17:59

Chapter 13: Red Romance—What Kind of Romance Is It, Really?

Red—but not the kind of bright crimson.

Nor the faint shade of red.

It was a deep, dark red, like wine, like an outpouring of desire.

This was Red Romance.

No need to doubt—it was indeed a nightclub, and one decorated in a modern style.

By modern style, of course, it meant an ‘80s vibe, with bright-edged decorations everywhere, giving an extravagant impression.

But these days, everyone liked that.

What made this Red Romance unique was that the male servers wore traditional English-style attire but concealed their faces behind masks.

The hostesses showed themselves openly, while the male servers hid their identities—this was the owner's clever way of running the club.

Naturally, all Tokyo nightclubs shared a common feature: spaces were divided by sofas.

There were no private rooms.

Why no private rooms?

Because decent folks wouldn’t need them!

If there was something to be done, why not do it openly?

Tokyo’s respectable entertainment venues operated on this principle—they wouldn’t provide explicit services, and if anything took place beyond the premises, that was another world entirely, unrelated to the venue.

Still, the sofas were large and comfortable, creating private zones sufficient for drinking or other discreet activities without issue.

Tonight, every sofa at Red Romance was reserved. At one particular sofa sat a blond-haired fellow making quite a fuss.

“Momoko, you better tell the truth!”

“What truth am I supposed to tell?”

“It’s simple—are you scared or not?”

“Well... Iwanata-san’s appearance...”

“What? Momoko, are you scared?”

“No, no, I think Iwanata-san is just so manly.”

“Really? Don’t lie now.”

“Really, I wouldn’t dare lie in front of Iwanata-san! Iwanata-san~ hmm~”

Blond Akira’s temperament strangely matched the vibe of Red Romance perfectly.

The girl he was teasing, Momoko, was also a well-known figure in this nightclub.

Momoko wore a pink silk sheath dress and shyly pressed herself against Takeshi Iwanata.

In this scorching summer, aren’t you afraid of the heat?

Takeshi Iwanata looked fierce, inwardly grumbling, yet under the spell of this red romance, his aura seemed to dim.

Red Romance had arrived.

Neko, Sakana, and Kiyoshi had been urging him along; even the two elders had not objected.

What choice did Team Leader Iwanata have?

If invited, then come and see what this Red Romance was really about.

Though Iwanata had been a minor director in the industry, he’d never been to a place like this before. In that sense, he was still quite innocent.

Now that he had seen it, it was just as expected.

As for Momoko—by nightclub standards, she was a delicate flower.

But to Iwanata, the pure and charming Shinobu—and her stunning elder sister—appeared far more often in his mind.

So Momoko was just ordinary fluff, invisible to Iwanata’s eyes.

Not that you’re no good, little sister, it’s just that I’ve seen better.

Of course, such words could not be spoken aloud. Despite his fierce appearance, Iwanata was a good man, so he changed the subject.

He asked about the task assigned to Neko, Sakana, and Kiyoshi.

“How’s the search for that White Dragon going?”

The moment the name “White Dragon” was mentioned, the three wilted like frostbitten eggplants.

“Boss, we’re really sorry.”

“What sorry? Can you guys get anything done or not?”

“Sumimasen! We’re clumsy, but we really can’t find any trace of this so-called White Dragon.”

“Hey! Keep your voice down! Do you want the whole world to know I’m looking for someone named White Dragon?”

“Sumimasen!”

“You idiots! You’re a bunch of good-for-nothings! Don’t ever mention that name again.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hearing this, Iwanata wasn’t particularly surprised.

Without Takeshi Kitano in this parallel world, it made sense that the Kitano faction’s White Dragon was missing too.

Still, he had to act natural. As the leader, if his subordinates failed a task, he had to reprimand them.

See? It worked well.

Neko, Sakana, and Kiyoshi shrank back, grateful that their boss didn’t punish them too harshly.

Blond Akira had wanted to order the ‘Blond Heaven’—a foreign golden-haired cat who came to Tokyo to make money—but he was sent away as well.

Momoko naturally witnessed all this.

Iwanata was thinking where to find a fierce-looking man as his rival, never expecting he’d face the same dilemma as Master Jissouji.

Could it be that fierce-looking men had become prized commodities these days?

At that moment, Momoko poured another glass of whiskey.

“Iwanata-san~ do you dislike Momoko?”

She lifted the glass to toast but suddenly let out a yelp.

Her hand slipped, and the amber liquid spilled—right into the cleavage.

Quick as a flash, she covered herself protectively with the other hand.

The amber liquid shimmered even more beautifully.

Then, perhaps from overexertion, the thin strap snapped.

Smooth, bare shoulders.

What’s this? Red Romance even comes with combo moves?

Actually, Momoko had thrown caution to the wind. In her line of work, they tried not to dirty their clothes, for obvious reasons.

But at this point, didn’t Boss Iwanata have to respond?

Most people would probably ask, “Are those melons ripe?”

But Iwanata suddenly heard a name.

“Suou-san...”

That old fellow, could it be...?

Iwanata didn’t care about melons or greenhouses.

He stood up, saying he needed to use the restroom.

Poor Momoko—combo move failed miserably!

...

Some people are naturally gifted in certain fields.

Others are not.

Perhaps lacking talent, but through effort, they still succeed.

Inside Red Romance, a tall masked server firmly believed this.

Tall and shy like a big boy, he rarely spoke at the club.

The owner wanted him to work security, but he refused.

Why?

Because security paid more.

He didn’t give his reason aloud, but he knew.

This mask was simply too wonderful.

Moreover, the wages at the club were already generous enough to support him and pursue his dreams.

In fact, the server’s main occupation—at least according to himself—was acting.

A small theater in Shinjuku was his true stage.

Coming to Red Romance every day was just to put food on the table.

But this night, he never expected...

“Can I borrow your clothes for a moment?”

“Sir, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Ten thousand yen.”

“Sir, this...”

“Twenty thousand yen.”

“You’re just going to change in the restroom, right?”

“Good.”

The tall server wanted to refuse loudly but couldn’t resist the offer.

They occupied two stalls; after changing, the other said, “Wait for me.”

The server understood but wondered if the man planned any mischief.

Still, two thousand yen was two thousand yen—not to be refused lightly.

So, that night, one stall in the Red Romance restroom was occupied.

Fortunately, it was a toilet stall—not too uncomfortable.

...

Suou and Moriyama met at Red Romance to discuss important matters—matters related to the club itself.

But first, they let their men have some fun.

Several bottles of expensive liquor were opened.

A few pretty hostesses added some theatrical flair.

Yet one person was impossible to ignore.

“That bastard Takeshi Iwanata—is he really going to make a movie?”

“Yeah, that guy seems crazy, insisting on making a film.”

“Isn’t it just a two-person thing?”

“Haha... no, it’s not.”

“The Yakuza are Yakuza—what’s this about movies? Ridiculous!”

“But that Fang Wen fellow has ideas. Iwanata studied at an art university, tuition was no small sum.”

“Baka, hmph...”

Clearly, both Suou and Moriyama despised Iwanata and disapproved of Fang Wen.

Their words carried to the ears of a tall masked server nearby.

Suou and Moriyama were about to continue when a woman in a cherry blossom-colored kimono approached them, radiantly elegant.

“Out.”

“Everyone out.”

Even Moriyama had driven away trusted aide Kitanoji—who was this woman?

She appeared to be in her thirties, with a strikingly beautiful face.

“Suou-san, Moriyama-san, what brings you here? Not enjoying the drinks?”

At her words, the two formidable leaders rose respectfully.

“Sister Takenaka, we have important business to discuss.”

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By the way, as for the RB nightclub rumors, the black car story is just hearsay, really, truly.

(End of chapter)