Contrast to Jakarta, March still holds winter in Tokyo, especially in the early afternoon, when the sun is present but offers no warmth it intends to keep.
Inside the managerial office, Nakahara sits behind his desk, staring at a sheet of paper that refuses to rearrange itself into something workable.
"Half a million," he mutters, not looking at anyone in particular. "Half a million just to secure the night."
Sera sits across from him, arms folded, expression neutral but alert.
Nakahara rubs his temples. "And then there's Arman Sargsyan, OPBF number two. Ten thousand dollars. Necessary, yes. But still money that doesn't come back immediately."
Nakahara pushes his chair back slightly and stands, pacing once behind the desk before stopping at the window.
"Two strong fights," he says. "That should be enough. It should be enough."
"But?" Sera prompts. "Six thousand seats don't fill themselves on two names alone. not at that price point."
