The Takahashi Presence ( 182 )

The day of the event.

Evening draped itself over Tokyo in soft gold and deepening violet.

At the heart of the city, a towering five-star hotel stood tall—its top floor reserved tonight for something far more exclusive than a simple dinner.

The Fujiwara Exclusive Corporate Dinner.

A private event.

By invitation only.

Only the most powerful people had a seat here.

Guests began arriving one by one—luxury sedans pulling into the discreet valet entrance.

Some came with polished spouses on their arms.

Some with young models, or hired escorts dressed like old-money wives.

Others arrived alone—but no one here was small.

Inside the private lobby, everything gleamed.

Marble floors.

Soft chandeliers.

Muted jazz played in the background.

A well-dressed staff member bowed politely.

"This way, sir," he said, guiding another guest toward the private elevator.