Ryoma does not answer immediately. His gaze lingers on the open briefcase resting on the glass table between them, where the bundles of American hundred-dollar bills sit in precise rows.
The amount of money inside that case could change the course of a person's life in a single evening. For many fighters, it would represent freedom. Five million dollars could buy houses, investments, years of comfort after retirement.
But that is not what Ryoma sees when he looks at the money. What he sees is a chain.
Accepting a deal like this would not simply mean losing a fight on purpose. It would mean tying himself to men like the one sitting across from him now.
People like this never offer money without expecting loyalty in return, and loyalty to the wrong people tends to become permanent.
Ryoma exhales slowly and lifts his eyes from the briefcase. "I appreciate the offer," he says calmly. "But it's not something I can decide myself."
