For hunters, dining here wasn't just a luxury; it was a supplement. A meal could mean an increase in strength, speed, stamina, sometimes even a sudden breakthrough in a critical stat. It was no exaggeration to say that tables of meat at Taiki could change the course of a hunter's career.
Keifer sat impatiently, his expensive suit pristine, his gold watch glinting under the crystal lights. His leg tapped an erratic rhythm under the table.
Kyle Nyeku was late.
Typical.
Keifer checked the time again, a grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth. It was barely fifteen minutes, but in Keifer's mind, every second was a slight against his status. He was thirty years old, a seasoned businessman with a reputation carved from blood and negotiations. Kyle Nyeku, in contrast, was a boy. Twenty-four, green, and in over his head or so Keifer thought.
Let him come crawling.
Let him beg.
