Blue Butterfly | Amajiki Tamaki

| 25 |

3rd POV

"... So what do we have here? A bunch of insects loitering around like this place's an ant hill? Give me a break."

Slapping his hand onto the exposed part of his face, Chisaki Kai strolled into the board meeting room hall, directing his ridicule to none other than King; who was already seated in his respectful chair and staring at the contents of the papers splayed on the table. A few shuffled in the dim-lit room in discomfort at the man's simple but eerie entrance, whispers gently circulating in the air.

The ticking clock accounted for the lack of sound, a billow of footsteps tailing behind Chisaki and his assistant, their gazes flicking all over the place before fixating their impassive eyes on the few cloaked figures idling about.

The curtains draping over the cascading column of windows fluttered subtly, small speckles of light pouring inside; lighting up the twilight in the hall. King felt his brow twitch in annoyance, yanking his surgical mask off his mouth:

"Well, we have one cocky ass of a man who just entered. Does that answer your question?"

"I see you're as nice as ever, King. That's what's good about you," Chisaki mocked in a low voice.

"Please do me a favour and die."

A tiny smirk twitched at Chisaki's lips. "Sorry, I don't do favours." He paused in front of the long, rectangular table, his gloved fingers skimming over the varnished surface. "... The old man, where is he?"

"The old man decides when he comes, it's not up to us," King replied, never meeting Chisaki's cold, stern gaze from across the table.

"Tch," the latter clicked his tongue, "I don't have time for this."

"... Oh? You don't? Since when did you start acting like you have authority?"

Chisaki tapped his finger on his beak-shaped mask; non-rhythmically. "... Remember who the old man chose? It was me, not you—I think you need to understand that."

"Ha. Look at you, acting cocky and all mighty like you rule this place. You don't have time? Don't kid with me with that bullshit attitude of yours; a kid like you knows nothing about the world we reign. If you've got time to run that mouth of yours, then you've got time to be here." A cough spluttered awkwardly in the room, King dryly laughing at the thick tension weighing the mood. "You're not welcomed here."

"You seem to be mistaken, King," Chisaki uttered, adjusting his mask. "... Time? Oh, everyone has time but instead of waiting in this place, we could be getting some decent work done in the field-"

"Like I said, it's not up to us to decide. If you've got a problem, tell the old man," King answered with a small wave of dismissal. "I wouldn't blame you for being so impatient, brats like you are always itching to do work right away."

A man donning a similar plague mask visibly jerked in anger, his white raincoat swishing as he planted a step forward. "You bastard-" 

"Kurono." Halting his movements, Chisaki held his hand in the air to stop his enraged assistant mid-way from launching. "He's not worth it."

"That's my line: it's not worth sullying my hands with your blood," King huffed.

"... You're sick, King... You need a cure."

"Enough," a gruff voice resounded from the far front, a stack of papers silencing the men when it slammed onto the table. "Childish behaviour like this will not be tolerated. I understand the distaste between both of you, but remember, this is business—we do not let personal affairs affect our jobs."