Tokyo's second layer was a paradise for the bourgeoisie.
The Morishita family had barely squeezed into the lower ranks of the upper bourgeoisie. They had settled in a wealthy neighborhood with good security and a pleasant environment, where they owned a detached Villa with comprehensive security.
Land here was worth its weight in gold. People on the Fourth Layer could work their whole lives and still might not be able to afford even a bathroom here.
Morishita Yamato, however, felt that this house was worthless now. It was like a Prison, and he was about to grow mold.
His girlfriend had just left. After letting off steam, Morishita Yamato lay on the soft sofa, wearing nothing but a towel and smoking.
She was his new girlfriend. His previous girlfriend, Miyamoto Masami, and two of his basketball club lackeys had been forced to transfer schools recently.
Morishita Yamato couldn't stand seeing people who had witnessed his humiliation hanging around in front of him.
He didn't feel bad about it, either. He could have as many lackeys and women as he wanted. Like this new girlfriend, who had rushed over from the Third Layer at one phone call, then got sent away when he was done and found her irritating.
His girlfriend hadn't dared utter a single complaint. She was like a technician rushing from one appointment to the next.
That was the charm of wealth, and a lesson in life his parents had taught him from childhood.
Morishita Yamato had taken it to heart. So he'd casually spent a hundred thousand hiring a hitman instead of rounding up a bunch of lackeys to go cause trouble.
The latter was too childish. The former was what rich people did.
Morishita Yamato was basking in his own satisfaction when his ringing phone jolted