Fists and Lipsticks 2: The Silver Crescent

CHAPTER 01: Dance of Death

CHAPTER 01: DANCE OF DEATH

It is an accident.

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 "Tonight, let's celebrate our victory!"

The man on the stage raised his glass of Burgundy wine as he continued to speak to the crowd, "A toast to the reappointment of our Prime Minister Yamazaki Daisuke!"

The grand proclamation was followed by a thunderous applause. Soon, clinking glasses from toasts between important men and women wearing expensive tailcoats and glamorous gown sounded across the Renaissance-themed hall. Earlier that day, the Diet formally announced the controversial second term of Yamazaki Daisuke as the head of the cabinet and chief executive.

The prime minister stood up from his authoritative throne situated at the middle of the majestic Dasera Hotel event hall. It was a glorious day in his political career. The room instantly silenced as he made his way to the podium.

"Join me as we stand to build a new era of success and prosperity," Daisuke declaimed. "Japan shall further rise into an economic giant, aiming to provide more jobs, advanced technology, quality education, and healthcare not only in our country but worldwide!"

Then, he gestured towards his wife sitting next to him, Yamazaki Nami, "Today, I have been given a second opportunity to serve the Japanese people, who have once again placed their trust on me. In this new journey, there would be episodes of crisis and trials, no doubt. But together, we shall face them all! With your faith, with the support of my beloved wife and son, with this wonderful family I have, I shall not fail! With the enormous trust endowed upon this humble servant standing before you, I shall never fail the whole Japan!"

The next round of applause was much louder than the previous one. Cameras flickered from every direction. Every television network aired the prime minister's victory speech. Before the spectators, Daisuke embraced Nami tightly, a gesture that invited the press to take even more pictures. The moment was a potential cover photo for tomorrow's newspapers.

The string quartet began to play a classic waltz, filling the colossal room with their sophisticated music. Food were served in a lavish buffet – sautéed fish, fine lamb chops, cuttlefish in Mediterranean vinegar, Beluga caviar, Belgian truffles, and fifty international wines to choose from. The function room was adorned with crystal chandeliers, illuminating the room with utmost magnificence fitting for the grandest party of the year. There was a huge flight of stairs leading to the entrance and exit, on its steps laid a newly-fabricated red carpet that rubbed against the guests' expensive shoes.

From this grandeur staircase emerged two individuals, dressed most stunningly of all. The one to the right was a fine young man in his late twenties, wearing a perfectly-tailored coat, his jet-black hair tousled yet modish. Holding onto his arm was a spectacularly captivating young lady, wearing a pink evening gown studded with diamonds and silk laces. As the two descended from the staircase, all guests standing on their path moved a step back to give way. Astounded gazes never left the pair that drew the attention of everyone in the room.

"Excuse me," three men who introduced themselves as security personnel immediately approached them. "You have not presented your invitation."

"An invitation?" the young man turned towards the lady in pink. "Is this supposed to be their manner of welcoming us?"

"I'm sorry, but without an invitation, we cannot let you pass," one of the security personnel explained. "This is a private party. Only guests personally invited by the prime minister may be allowed to enter."

"Such rule applies only to guests," the young man said with a smug countenance. "She is not a guest."

The young man's clever retort painted a faint grin on the lady's pink lips.