Okabe does not lower his eyes. He stands his ground, but hatred burns plainly across his face, raw and unfiltered.
"So this is who you are now," Okabe says, his voice shaking. Not from fear, but from anger. "You talk about contracts and professionalism like some corporate executive. You sound just like the people you said you hated. A promoter who doesn't care about fighters' feelings. Only reputation. Only money. Exploiting boxers for your own gain."
The words hang in the air. For a brief moment, Ryoma says nothing.
The accusation lands harder than the others expect. His gaze shifts slightly, and something flickers behind his eyes.
He does not look defensive. He looks reflective; is there a trace of truth in it? Am I really turning into someone I hate?
The gym remains silent, waiting. But the pause does not last long.
Ryoma lifts his head again, and whatever doubt surfaced earlier disappears beneath a sharper and colder clarity.
"So you feel exploited now?" he asks evenly.
