As soon as the words left his mouth, Sarello's eyes narrowed, and the confidants standing behind him grew visibly tense.
"The Gentleman has already been very lenient with you. He gave you opportunities, but you didn't know how to cherish them." Tequila looked at this junior he had once mentored with deep disappointment, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did you think he wouldn't find out about your private dealings with the gangs? You knew full well the Organization forbids such behavior, yet you did it repeatedly. It makes one wonder... whose side are you actually on?"
With that, he tossed a stack of photos onto the table. They were all snapshots of incriminating evidence.
Sarello's face paled. His worst fear had come true.
Perhaps because things had been peaceful for too long, he had grown careless. He thought he had been discreet enough, but clearly, he was wrong. He tried desperately to deflect responsibility, explaining, "That capital was for the development of the branch! I was forced into it!"
"Over the last few years, the Carrete Gang has grown stronger, and their members are formidable. While The Gentleman wants me to find a way to annex them, you know as well as I do that the Mexico branch's power can't compare to Japan or Germany. Taking down such a tough nut to crack would require a massive sacrifice."
"Our base is short-staffed. If we launch a reckless attack, the losses might outweigh the gains. So, my plan was to cooperate with them first, make them lower their guard—boil the frog in lukewarm water."
Tequila scoffed. "I think you just couldn't bear to let go of those kickbacks."
"Because you haven't stolen too much yet, the Boss is sparing your life. However, from now on, the command of this base belongs to our people." At this, he shook his head and clarified: "No, to be precise, it belongs to this one—"
He stepped aside to the right, revealing a certain sunglass-wearing "cat-head."
Actually, it was Gojo Satoru, who was currently watching the drama with great interest.
"Kaiser will succeed you as the new head of this branch." As Tequila spoke, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled. "I'm getting old. I'm no longer suited for such a high position; I'm better off assisting the new generation."
Satoru's face was a living "Confused Nick Young" meme.
How did I get dragged into this while I was just minding my own business eating popcorn?
He had assumed Tequila would at least be the nominal superior, but the man was handing over all authority? Satoru looked at his former instructor and current assistant with surprise, and Tequila gave him a firm, reassuring nod.
In truth, through long-term observation, Tequila understood Satoru's terrifying combat prowess perfectly. Furthermore, he had seen firsthand how much the Boss valued his adopted son.
Tequila was indeed getting on in years. No matter how much he ground away in the Organization, his status had hit a ceiling. If things went as expected, even Gin—currently an intern in Japan—would likely be more successful and trusted by the Boss within twenty years. Investing now by firmly siding with Kaiser, who was highly likely to become the Boss's successor, was simply good foresight.
Tequila: Just an old man acting as a study partner for the Crown Prince~
Sarello was incredulous. He laughed out of sheer anger. "Tequila, do you think I'm an idiot?"
People in the Americas tended to develop faster and look more mature, whereas Satoru had a youthful "baby face," making him look even more "frail and exploitable" by comparison. In Sarello's eyes, it would be a miracle if this kid survived on this soil, let alone managed the base and gained the respect of all members. That was pure fantasy.
"Without a direct order from The Gentleman, I don't believe—"
At that moment, a loud electronic notification chimed.
Sarello pulled out his phone. As he read the screen, it was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him; his body went rigid. Only a handful of people knew the Boss's email address; Sarello didn't have the clearance to communicate with him directly. Orders were always relayed through a proxy.
This email was from the Organization's second-in-command: Rum.
The content could be summarized as: Sarello's management authority was revoked. From now on, he was just an ordinary member of the base. If he screwed up again, his codename would be stripped, and he'd be sent to the front lines as cannon fodder. In other words, this was the Boss's personal will.
Tequila saw it clearly. "Do you have any further objections?"
"...Understood. I will step down. Everything will be according to the arrangements."
The other members in the room exchanged uneasy glances. The plan to "teach the newbie a lesson" hadn't just gone up in smoke—their boss had been replaced in an instant. What now?
Sarello didn't dare defy the Boss, but thinking of how hard he had worked to build his status only for it to plummet, he couldn't swallow his pride. He refused to lose face in front of his subordinates.
"However, while the Boss ordered me to step down, he didn't explicitly name Kaiser as the replacement, did he? That's just your... wishful thinking, Tequila."
Tequila couldn't refute that. The Boss's instruction was for Kaiser to "handle it himself." If he had the strength to conquer his subordinates, the position was his. If not, he deserved whatever hardship came his way.
Sarello stared intensely at Satoru. "Regardless of how things are elsewhere, the rule of the Mexico branch is: the strong rule."
"Kaiser, why don't you and I have a match? If I lose, I will willingly follow your command."
In reality, he didn't expect Kaiser to agree—or rather, to dare agree. Sarello was a muscular, battle-hardened man. How could he lose to a green rookie? If the kid agreed, he was doomed to lose. If he refused, his authority would be shot before he even started. Who would respect a leader who was "unfit for the position"? Sarello was determined to humiliate him today.
"Pfft..."
Satoru couldn't help but burst out laughing. "For real? You want to fight me?"
"That's right," Sarello provoked. "I won't bully you. I'll give you a three-move head start. Sound fair?"
Satoru could barely remember the last time someone had actively challenged him to a duel. For the longest time, anyone who knew how dangerous he was would actively avoid him, or immediately forfeit if they were unlucky enough to be matched against him.
He actually missed this feeling—the feeling of being underestimated. It was quite entertaining.
"If you're too scared to agree, it's no—"
Satoru tilted his head. "Who said I didn't agree?"
"I won't bully you either. Before we start, I'll give you a three-hundred-move head start."
Sarello thought he had misheard. This kid actually dared to accept? Was he not afraid of a humiliating defeat?
Fine. If it's a fight he wants!
"That won't be necessary." Sarello flashed a confident grin. "Let's just fight normally. Everyone, come along. I'll take you to the arena."