The night air brushed softly against Zumi's face as he stood alone on the rooftop, the city stretching endlessly beneath him—lights flickering like stars trapped on the ground. The council meeting still lingered in his mind, every word, every glance, every hidden threat.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
There was only one person he wanted to hear from right now.
He tapped the contact.
Dojima Nishiki.
The call connected after a single ring.
A familiar, calm voice answered.
"Zumi."
Just hearing it eased something tight in his chest.
"Uncle Nishiki," Zumi said quietly, a small smile forming. "It's good to hear your voice."
A low chuckle came through the line. "You don't call unless something important happened. Talk to me."
Zumi leaned against the railing, eyes on the city.
"The Council of Ten met today. Rumors are spreading fast. They're talking about Kogane—about a rising family. Victor was pressured. Hard."
There was a brief silence on the other end—not surprise, but calculation.
"And?" Nishiki asked.
"He handled it," Zumi replied. "With… help."
Another quiet chuckle. "I figured."
Zumi hesitated, then asked the question that had been weighing on him.
"While all this noise has been circling… have you been moving? Quietly. Just enough to leave proof."
Nishiki didn't deny it.
"Yes," he said simply. "Small moves. Strategic ones. Enough for the right people to notice, not enough to provoke a war."
Zumi exhaled slowly. "I thought so."
Nishiki's tone softened slightly, more fatherly now.
"Zumi, listen to me. You were thrown into this world suddenly. You didn't grow up breathing underworld politics the way Ana did. The way I did. That's fine."
Zumi stayed silent, listening.
"You make alliances," Nishiki continued. "Protect people. Build loyalty. Do what your instincts tell you is right. When word reaches me—and it always does—I'll clean up the mess. I'll organize the backlash. I'll make sure your foundations don't crack."
Zumi's grip on the phone tightened.
"…Thank you," he said sincerely.
"You don't need to thank me," Nishiki replied. "You're family. And whether you like it or not, you carry Wukong's will. Chaos follows you—but so does balance."
Zumi let out a quiet laugh.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm moving too fast."
"You are," Nishiki said bluntly. Then he added, "And that's exactly why it's working."
Zumi smiled faintly, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.
"It's just…" he admitted. "If not for the system—if not for Ana that night—I don't think I'd still be standing."
Nishiki's voice dropped, firm and reassuring.
"Power didn't make you who you are. It only revealed it. Don't forget that."
Zumi nodded, even though Nishiki couldn't see it.
"I won't."
"Good," Nishiki said. "Now get some rest. Tomorrow, the world moves again."
The call ended.
Zumi lowered the phone and looked out over the city once more.
For the first time that night, he didn't feel alone.
He wasn't just surviving this new world anymore.
He was being guided through it.
The wind moved gently across the rooftop, tugging at Zumi's coat as he stood there alone, the city breathing beneath him. Somewhere below, engines hummed, lights flickered, lives carried on—unaware that one decision, made in silence, was about to ripple through all of it.
He rested his hands on the railing and made up his mind.
Tomorrow, he would move.
Not a small move.
Not a rumor.
Not a test.
He was going after one of the largest entertainment companies in New York City.
A cornerstone.
A name everyone knew.
A company that shaped culture, media, money, and influence.
If he took that…
The underworld would stop whispering.
They would start listening.
Zumi pulled out his phone and typed a short message.
Zumi:
I'm staying on the roof tonight.
Tomorrow morning—we move.
He sent it.
Down in the mansion, surrounded by warmth, voices, and familiar presences, Gia felt her phone vibrate. The moment she saw his name, she smiled without even realizing it.
She replied instantly.
Gia:
Okay ❤️
No questions.
No hesitation.
Just trust.
Zumi stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary, then slipped the phone back into his pocket. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
He stayed there on the rooftop as the night deepened.
Hours passed.
The city grew quieter, the sky darker, the moon slowly climbing higher until it hung above him like a silent witness. Zumi sat down against the low wall, back resting on cool stone, and let his thoughts drift.
He remembered when rooftops used to mean escape.
Back then, they were places to hide.
Places to breathe.
Places to dream about a life that felt impossibly far away.
He remembered the slums—how every night felt like a gamble.
He remembered hunger.
Cold.
Fear.
He remembered the orphanage.
The smell of old floors.
The sound of crying at night.
The way he learned early not to expect anyone to come.
And then—
Ana.
That night.
That turning point.
Everything after that had been a blur of power, responsibility, loyalty, love, danger. A life that moved faster than most people could comprehend.
He thought of the girls downstairs.
Their laughter.
Their faith in him.
The way they looked at him—not as a weapon, not as a king, but as Zumi.
He thought of Emily.
Of her quiet strength.
Of how she calmed herself without knowing why.
Of the path slowly opening in front of her.
He thought of Victor.
Of Catherine.
Of alliances balancing on knives' edges.
And finally… he thought of tomorrow.
The first real strike.
The moment the Kogane Empire would step out of shadow and into inevitability.
Zumi closed his eyes.
For the first time in a long while, despite the weight of everything, he felt calm.
Not because the future was certain.
But because—for the first time in his life—
he was ready for it.
As the night stretched on, the Monkey King watched over the city from above, silent and patient, waiting for dawn.
The city was quiet at 2 a.m.
Not asleep—New York never truly slept—but hushed, like it was holding its breath.
Zumi stood at the edge of the rooftop, hands resting lightly on the railing, golden eyes reflecting the scattered lights below. Without turning, he spoke softly into the night.
"Gia. Come up to the roof."
He knew she was awake.
Exactly one minute later, the door behind him opened with a soft click.
Gia stepped out, tablet already in hand, black hair tied loosely back, expression calm and alert. She didn't ask why. She simply walked over and sat beside him, legs tucked in, the cool stone beneath them grounding.
"You called," she said quietly.
Zumi glanced at her, a faint smile touching his lips.
"I need information," he said. "Who's one of the richest female business tycoons in New York right now?"
Gia's eyes lit up—not with surprise, but recognition.
She smiled.
"I was wondering when you'd ask that."
She shifted slightly, pulling the tablet closer, fingers already moving. But before she brought anything up, she paused and looked at him sidelong.
"Is there a specific industry you're looking at?" she asked. "Tech, finance, logistics—"
"Entertainment," Zumi replied without hesitation.
That was all he needed to say.
Gia nodded once, then began scrolling with practiced ease. Lines of data, profiles, financial graphs, and corporate maps flickered across the screen. She didn't rush. She was choosing carefully.
After a few seconds, she stopped.
"…Here," she said, turning the tablet toward him.
Her tone changed—not dramatic, but respectful.
"This one would be perfect for you," Gia continued. "Not just to acquire… but to ally with first. Someone like you could take her company cleanly, elegantly. Or—" she glanced at him "—convince her to hand it over willingly."
Zumi's eyes moved over the screen.
Viktoria Sergeyevna Volkov.
The Red Empress.
As Gia began to explain, Zumi didn't interrupt. He listened—really listened—absorbing every word, every implication.
A woman who ruled the entertainment world like a battlefield.
A strategist who treated culture as psychological warfare.
A billionaire who stood alone at the top of a $220-billion empire.
The description unfolded layer by layer:
Her icy crimson eyes.
Her immaculate suits with blood-red accents.
Her Spetsnaz-trained combat discipline.
Her flawless control of global media pipelines.
And beneath it all—
Loneliness.
Perfectionism.
Walls built too high for anyone to climb.
Zumi leaned back slightly, eyes lifting from the tablet to the skyline as Gia finished.
"…She doesn't trust easily," Gia said. "And she doesn't lose. Not publicly, at least. But—" she paused, then added softly, "—she's alone at the top. And she's fighting someone inside her own empire."
Zumi exhaled slowly.
"A queen under siege," he murmured.
Gia watched his expression closely. She'd seen this look before—the quiet stillness before he made a decision that would shake entire systems.
"She's dangerous," Gia added. "Brilliant. If you approach her the wrong way, she'll try to dissect you."
Zumi smiled faintly.
"That's fine," he said calmly. "I won't approach her as prey."
He looked back at the tablet, eyes lingering on Viktoria's profile.
"I'll approach her as an equal."
Gia's lips curved into a knowing smile.
"Of course you will."
Zumi closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting instinct, divinity, and experience align. Somewhere deep inside, the Monkey King stirred—not with arrogance, but with anticipation.
"Set it up," he said at last. "Not a hostile move. Not yet. I want information. Open channels. Quiet pressure."
Gia nodded immediately.
"I'll start tonight," she said. "If anyone can survive your world and still want more… it's her."
Zumi chuckled softly.
"She said that, didn't she?"
"Yes," Gia replied. "In an interview."
Zumi's smile deepened—calm, confident, dangerous.
"Then let's see," he said quietly, eyes glowing faintly gold in the darkness, "if the Red Empress can survive mine."
The wind swept across the rooftop again, carrying with it the weight of what was coming.
Below them, New York slept—
Unaware that by morning, its entertainment empire had already been marked.
Zumi listened to Gia's explanation in silence for a few seconds longer.
Then he said, casually—almost dangerously so—
"Change of plan."
Gia blinked once, then looked at him.
"We're not setting up meetings," Zumi continued. "No intermediaries. No requests. No advance notice."
He turned to face her fully now, golden eyes calm and certain.
"We're just going to walk into her building this morning. Uninvited. I want to see the place with my own eyes. Feel it. Read the atmosphere. And if we run into her…"
a faint smirk touched his lips
"…we'll handle it then."
There was no arrogance in his tone—only inevitability.
Gia smiled.
Not surprised. Not nervous.
Just amused.
"Of course," she said smoothly. "That's very you."
She didn't ask why.
She didn't question the risk.
She trusted his instincts completely.
Just before 10 a.m., Zumi took out his phone.
He opened his private group chat—the one labeled simply:
My Loves
With a few quick taps, he added three new names:
• Rachel
• Carmella
• Bethany
The system confirmed their addition.
He typed:
Heading out with Gia.
About to casually walk into a $220 billion entertainment empire and see if it feels like mine yet.
I'll tell you how it goes when I get back.
Almost immediately, reactions flooded in.
Bia sent a string of fire emojis.
Kathy sent: Of course you are.
Catherine: You better come back.
There was no reply from Serafina—
because Serafina still didn't have a phone.
Zumi smiled faintly at that, already knowing she'd hear about it the moment he returned.
Then he added one more message, directed specifically:
Rachel—buy Serafina a phone. New number. Same security standard.
Rachel replied instantly:
Understood. On it.
That was that.
No drama.
No hesitation.
A few minutes later, Zumi and Gia left the mansion together.
Gia drove.
The city flowed past the windows as traffic parted almost unconsciously around them—something about the car, or perhaps the man sitting calmly in the passenger seat, subtly commanding space.
Neither of them spoke much.
They didn't need to.
The building eventually came into view.
Volkov Global Entertainment Group Headquarters.
A towering monolith of glass and steel—sleek, immaculate, intimidating. Digital billboards wrapped around its lower levels, showcasing film trailers, esports highlights, celebrity visuals, and streaming promotions looping seamlessly.
Power lived here.
Influence breathed here.
Gia slowed the car and pulled into a discreet parking spot across the street.
She cut the engine.
They both looked up at the building.
Zumi's eyes narrowed slightly—not in hostility, but assessment.
"Big," Gia said lightly.
"Mm," Zumi replied. "But not untouchable."
He opened the door.
And that was where it began.