"Master, these are today's calling cards."
A white-haired old servant knelt on the floor, holding up a stack of bright red cards with both hands, presenting them to Adrian Black—now known as Masao Busujima—who sat in the seat of honor.
Although Masao Busujima ran a swordsmanship dojo in Tokyo, this was not a place where ordinary people could simply pay to learn. As the home of Japan's number one swordsman, the Busujima Dojo represented the martial soul of the nation.
Those who wished to become disciples had to undergo strict screening. It wasn't enough to have money; one needed a noble lineage, a pristine background, and high social standing. Even then, they had to pay an exorbitant entrance fee just for the possibility of entering the dojo to observe. And after passing those layers of screening, any prospective student still had to be personally examined by Masao Busujima himself.
It could be said that bearing the title of a Busujima disciple was more prestigious than holding a degree from the University of Tokyo. Japanese society was obsessed with these superficial rules and hierarchies, a suffocating reality for the lower classes. Fortunately for Adrian, his current position was at the very peak of that pyramid.
"Didn't I already say this? I have things to do these days. I am not accepting visitors!"
Adrian took a sip of his tea before speaking, his voice projecting a strong, clear authority.
If it were the original Masao, he might have hesitated. Even a master swordsman needs to eat, and maintaining such a luxurious lifestyle required a steady stream of wealthy fools seeking his validation.
But Adrian didn't care. The zombie apocalypse was going to break out in a month or two; who had time to play politics?
He had already checked the finances. Masao Busujima owned assets worth nearly ten billion yen. While he wasn't on the level of the top corporate tycoons, it was more than enough for one person to live like a king. He had been planning to use this money to tour some of Japan's high-end izakayas and nightlife districts.
To be honest, he felt he could no longer suppress the wicked desires in his heart.
As a traditional high-class family, the Busujima household had strict rules. Saeko had to greet him formally every morning and every night before bed. It was a routine established years ago.
But the same action, viewed through different eyes, had a completely different effect.
Previously, when Saeko bowed to Masao, it was a daughter's respect for her father. But now, every time Adrian saw Saeko's generous chest heaving as she bowed before him, he had to fight the urge to reach out and handle her.
However, the time wasn't right. Impatience would spoil the plan.
He didn't want to be accused of forcing himself on his own daughter. Even if human order was destined to collapse in two months, this was still a lawful society right now. With Masao's status, he could probably get away with killing a commoner or two, but if word got out that he had assaulted his own daughter, even he would end up in prison.
So he could only suppress the lust in his heart. Watching such a beautiful, vibrant woman moving around his house every day without being able to touch her was incredibly frustrating.
"Yes, I will return the invitations immediately!"
The old servant sensed the irritation in his master's voice and quickly panicked. However, as the saying goes, haste makes waste. The old man stumbled as he tried to stand, and the stack of red cards scattered across the floor.
One invitation card drifted through the air toward Adrian. With reflexes honed by the body's muscle memory, he instantly reached out and snatched it from the air.
He was about to toss it back to the servant, but when his eyes swept over the name on the card, he froze.
'Could someone explain this to me? Isn't this supposed to be the world of Highschool of the Dead?'
He stared at the characters on the card.
'What the hell is Kotonoha Katsura doing here?'
"Keep this invitation. Let her come over this afternoon."
After reading the name twice to ensure he wasn't hallucinating, Adrian handed the card back to the bewildered servant.
"Yes! Yes! I understand!"
The old servant didn't know why his master had suddenly changed his mind, but it wasn't his place to question the head of the household. He quickly gathered the scattered cards and hurried out to inform the guest.
Adrian remained seated under the eaves of the porch, watching the white clouds drift across the blue sky, lost in thought.
If the "Kotonoha Katsura" on the invitation was the same one from his memory—the heroine of School Days—then he wouldn't need to go to the izakaya to vent his frustrations after all.
And if it wasn't her? It wouldn't be a big deal. At most, he would just waste two hours of his time.
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