"Phew~!"
A wisp of blue smoke slowly rose, nicotine that eased stress released into the air. Keiryu Doma had forgotten when he had started smoking again—he had quit for ten years.
But ever since Sogo Doma woke up, he had relapsed. There was no helping it. Cigarettes might damage the lungs, but they did not hurt the heart. Without some way to relieve the pressure, Keiryu Doma feared he would die even sooner than if he kept smoking.
Take today, for instance. When that pile of weapons had appeared before him, only four words could describe Keiryu Doma's state—scared out of his wits.
Combined with his own deductions, once he understood Sogo's connection to the Iraqi forces, he became—terrified to the bone.
Thankfully, Sogo Doma had kept it well hidden. At the very least, if Sogo had not said anything, even Keiryu Doma would never have suspected that layer of things—after all, Sogo was barely twelve.
"Old man, that's too much. I worked hard to earn that spending money, and you're taking it too?" After glancing once more at Sogo Doma, who lay sprawled on the floor, Keiryu Doma looked again at the bank card he had confiscated from Sogo and suddenly felt a burst of pleasure. This feeling of oppressing someone seemed rather nice. No wonder that brat Sogo always...
No, he could not think about it. He could not. The Doma Family had been a distinguished household for generations; one Sogo was enough. But... spending money?
Spending money, my ass.
What twelve-year-old got involved in an international war over spending money? Even if it was only a regional conflict, it was still a war!
"No spending money! And I'll have people keep an eye on you. If something like this happens again, I won't be so nice about