The reaction is instant and uneven. Several promoters stiffen in their seats, lawyers stop writing, and a low tension spreads through the room as the implication takes shape.
A man like Jackson Rhodes does not cross a room like this unless the target matters. And the thought presses down on everyone who came expecting a smaller fight.
Ryoma stands at last, but he does not accept the handshake. His hands remain in the pockets of his tracksuit, his posture guarded rather than rude.
His eyes sharpen, instincts flare with the same cold warning he felt around Logan Rhodes, the unmistakable presence of someone who operates like a shark beneath calm water.
Without blinking, he speaks in English, his tone flat and unwelcoming.
"Do I know you?"
Jackson lifts an eyebrow in mild surprise, clearly unaccustomed to being met with confusion rather than recognition.
But before he can answer, Sera leans closer to Ryoma, and lowers his voice, choosing English with care.
