Ryoma notices Jackson first because the man does not bother hiding his satisfaction. Jackson leans back in his chair with an ease that feels earned rather than casual, one arm resting along the backrest, his posture loose in the way of someone who already got what he came for.
The faint curve at the corner of his mouth is not a smile meant for others, but a private confirmation that the room moved exactly as he intended.
Ryoma's gaze shifts, sharp and unfiltered, toward Reika. He does not bother masking the contempt this time, a colder frustration, the kind reserved for someone who keeps stepping on the same blade without learning where it lies.
Reika does not see it at the moment. She is turned toward Jackson, her voice lowered as she argues with him in hurried English.
"You said you'd help me," she whispers, urgency slipping through her restraint. "You said you'd support the bid."
"I did help," Jackson says. "This is how NSN does business."
