Mr. Watanabe sat across from us with a mild smile, like he was enjoying a private joke.
"Why didn't you tell me Naoki was coming too?" I asked.
"I never said you were going alone. And look." he gestured at Naoki, "you have a sidekick now."
Naoki raised a hand. "I'm gonna be so useless as a sidekick."
I ignored them both, instead standing up to look around the jet. There really wasn't much to see, private jets are small no matter how fancy they look.
Suddenly, Mr. Watanabe's voice echoed from the speakers on the ceiling.
"Attention, gentlemen. Please follow the main etiquettes of this airline. That means no running, jumping, or fighting. Thank you, and please enjoy your flight."
Never knew he could do that.
"I never knew he could do that," a voice echoed behind me.
I jumped a little. Naoki was suddenly standing right at my shoulder. I forget sometimes that he's an assassin, silent footsteps come with the job.
"What? Did I scare you? Hohohohoho—"
He burst into the most cartoonishly rich guy laugh imaginable.
And continued.
And continued.
And continued.
And kept on laugh—
***
Almost a full day later, after countless shenanigans, minor chaos, and the tragic destruction of several snack bags, we finally arrived in the magnificent cities of England.
Naturally, the first thing we saw were royal guards waiting for us, and a very long limo.
Naoki gasped like a kid seeing fireworks. "Dude! Look at the limo! Just LOOK at it."
"I know, Naoki. I know."
"It looks like a giant BB—"
I slapped my hand over his mouth before he insulted the British monarchy on their own runway. My eyes signaled to Mr. Watanabe, who cleared his throat as if to say let's go before someone dies.
A guard stepped forward, offered a slight bow, and collected our luggage before heading back to the limousine and loading everything into the trunk.
For some reason, Naoki looked weirdly dissatisfied as we trailed behind the guard, though I couldn't tell what bothered him.
Stepping into the limousine, it was far fancier than I'd imagined. Red leather seats lined the interior, televisions were mounted on the sides, and even a small bar was there. The windows were tinted pitch black for privacy.
"So, where are we going?" Naoki asked. He didn't seem impressed by the interior at all, despite how enthusiastic he was when he saw the limo from the outside.
"We're heading to our headquarters," Mr. Watanabe replied. "Using the Royal Family's limousine."
"Wait, the Royal Family's limo?"
"Yes, they were kind enough to lend us one of their vehicles."
I reached for a glass of water, and took a sip. "Well yeah, you're the prime minister. But how many limos do they even have?"
"Thirty. And that isn't counting the private ones."
I immediately spit water onto Naoki's face.
"Th—thirty? And not even counting the private ones!?"
"Yes."
I wiped Naoki's face with a towel, muttering a quick apology.
***
As the ride went on, we passed landmark after landmark, the architecture was different, making the entire place feel almost magical.
Naoki was sleeping with his head resting in my shoulder with a bit of drool on his mouth, tired from our long journey, while Mr. Watanabe stared quietly out the window. I didn't want to disturb the silence.
"We've arrived. Wake him up and prepare to depart," Mr. Watanabe said. So I did as I was told and shook Naoki awake.
He slowly opened his eyes, wiping the drool from his mouth. "Are we there yet?" he mumbled.
The limousine slowed to a stop in front of what looked like a massive, abandoned warehouse. Rusty. Empty. Miserable.
We grabbed our bags as the limo drove away.
Naoki squinted at the building like it offended him. "Is this supposed to be the headquarters? Or is the driver just drunk?"
"You know what they say…" I said with an confident grin. "Don't judge a book by it's cover."
Mr. Watanabe opened the metal gates. They screeched, loud enough to wake the dead. Inside, was exactly what you'd expect, piles of tires, cans, bottles, and a PS5 casually lying on the floor as if someone rage-quit and threw it there.
I wasn't angry. Just disappointed.
"Can I judge it now?" Naoki asked beside me. And yes, he absolutely could.
Still walking, Mr. Watanabe reached a giant crate and pushed it aside as if it weighed nothing, revealing a rusty trapdoor. With a grunt, he lifted it and went down the ladder. Naturally, we followed, though both of us were silently questioning our life decisions.
The ladder stretched far below us, impossibly long. It was metal, yet somehow I couldn't feel any rust.
Underground, the lights suddenly opened, finally we can see. In front of us, another door, this one covered in security tech, a keypad, facial scanner, voice lock, and probably lasers somewhere.
Mr. Watanabe typed a twelve-digit code, muttered some gibberish we couldn't understand, and then stared at the screen. Two seconds later, the door reversed and slid sideways with a metallic whisper.
We exchanged glances.
"So you're not gonna explain any of that?" I asked.
"That door is multiple layers of reinforced titanium," he said casually. "With bombs hidden inside. If you enter the wrong password, it explodes."
"WHAT?!" Naoki and I yelled in perfect sync.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll tell you the password later. For now, come in."
That wasn't the problem, but it was too late to voice my thoughts, as Mr. Watanabe had already gone inside.
We both hesitated… then went in.
The interior was nothing like the outside. It looked like a cross between a modern mansion and a high-tech base. Even the entrance floor lit up under our feet.
"You're free to explore the facility," Mr. Watanabe said. "Meeting room's downstairs. Bedroom's upstairs."
Even though he said we're free to explore, he still guided us until we reached the upper floor.
In there one room stood out immediately, its double doors painted deep brown with intricate engravings. Golden doorknobs, dark green circle at the center, marked with a golden U.
My room.
It felt... welcoming, as if it was waiting for me.