"The Emblem Stays Hidden, But the Intent Leaks Through"

  November 8, 2035

  The front door clicked open.

  Julius Go entered without fanfare. No guards, no noise, no hesitation. In one hand: a brown paper bag bearing the cursive logo of Mary’s Bakehouse, the bakery downstairs that Jiro used to drag him to after long nights. Julius raised it with a smile.

  「買點心啦，等下開會用的。」

  (Got some snacks. For the meeting later.)

  Jiro looked up slowly, face unreadable. He recognized the smell even before the sight, the buttery, slightly burnt crust of the cheese rolls he used to eat half-naked in this same room, drunk or bruised or both.

  He blinked.

  「查某仔咧？樓下的探員？」

  (And the agents? The ones downstairs?)

  Julius set the bag on the stone counter and pulled out two boxes, a bottle of cold fruit soda, and a flash drive taped under the lid. He spoke without turning around.

  「處理好了。他們還留一組在樓下，但應該很快就會走，等知道Severino的目標是誰就撤。」

  (Handled. They kept one team downstairs, but they'll leave soon, once they confirm who Severino's target really is.)

  He opened the laptop, Calvin’s old ThinkPad, scratched but fast. Julius had been using it like an altar. It whirred quietly as he connected a machine to the port.

  Jiro stood, his robe slipping off one shoulder, revealing a healing cut taped over with hydrocolloid film. His voice was rough, frayed.

  「Freddie有消息無？」

  (Any news from Freddie?)

  Julius nodded slightly, eyes on the screen.

  「開始轉資料咧。他們的檔案，我們這邊的人都收到了。還有, 這兩個月的走私錢也匯過來咧。他現在配合啦。」

  (They’ve started sending files. Our side’s already received most of it. And, he wired the smuggling money from the past two months. He’s cooperating.)

  Jiro gave a low, breathy laugh. It was joyless, but not empty.

  「他無得選啦。像伊這種人，只會怕權力跟死命的事。」

  (He doesn’t have a choice. People like him only understand power, or death.)

  He walked past Julius and picked up the soda. Cold glass on warm hands. He turned to face his old friend.

  「不過…伊的醫藥費應該無蓋便宜。咱要幫伊付咩？」

  (Though… his hospital bill can’t be cheap. Should we help him out?)

  Julius let out a low grunt that curved into a smirk. He didn’t look up.

  「免啦。這種人…幫一次就踩咱頭頂上咧。」

  (No need. People like that, help them once and they climb on your head.)

  Jiro took a sip of the juice soda. The acidity bit the back of his throat, clearing something out, not quite a memory, not quite the pain. He leaned against the marble kitchen island, looking out through the glass panels that framed the Makati skyline like a cage of stars.

  His voice softened.

  「你講，仲裁人會挺咱咩？」

  (Do you think the arbiter will side with us?)

  Julius paused, fingers hovering over the trackpad. He glanced at the digital clock above the oven, 9:58 PM. Two minutes left.

  「五五啦。」

  (Fifty-fifty.)

  He stood, closing the box of pastries without touching them.

  「蔡兄弟的手有牽進來。他們以前出錢幫Calvin開那間高利貸公司。Calvin過身前又簽了一份合約，條文很清楚。」

  (The Chua Brothers put money into the loan shark operation. They helped Calvin set it up. And before Calvin died, he signed a new contract. Terms are airtight.)

  Jiro’s jaw tightened. The corners of his lips tugged downward, not quite a frown, more like a recognition. Of the trap. Of the rot. Of the way Calvin, even in death, kept binding him to things he never read.

  「伊真有簽咧？」

  (He really signed it?)

  「有。」

  (He did.)

  「死前簽的？」

  (Signed before dying?)

  「前幾禮拜啦。」

  (A few weeks before.)

  Jiro turned away from the window and walked slowly back to the couch. He collapsed into it with a quiet sigh, head tilting back until he could see the hairline cracks in the ceiling paint.

  「策略咧？」

  (Then what’s the strategy?)

  Julius answered while plugging in a second cable, the screen flickering to life with two login portals marked: ARBITERand CHUA. Voice only.

  「咱要寫新合約，新的條件。他們若要賺，咱就讓他們賺；但不能用Calvin的名。」

  (We write a new contract. New terms. If they want to profit, let them, but they can’t do it under Calvin’s name.)

  Jiro snorted softly.

  「死人的名，大家都嘛會搶。」

  (A dead man’s name, everyone wants a piece of it.)

  The screen lit up fully as the clock struck 10:00 PM. A soft beep echoed through the condo.

  Julius stood straight.

  「時間到咧。」

  (Time’s up.)

  Jiro adjusted his robe, but didn’t bother sitting upright. He looked like a prince in mourning, still half-draped in velvet and ego.

  Two voice icons blinked. One labeled ARBITER, the other CHUA.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Then came the Arbiter’s voice, low, grave, practiced like a temple bell. The rites of Triad arbitration echoed through the speakers, spoken with ceremonial finality.

  「今天晤會，由我作證。先聽蔡兄弟講話。」

  (Tonight’s meeting, witnessed by me. The Chua brothers will speak first.)

  Crackling filled the line, as if the speaker was calling from inside a steel pipe. Then a voice, husky, old, and oiled with decades of nicotine and arrogance, spoke with unmistakable disdain.

  「無需要講有的無的。條約在咱手頭。公司名字、利潤結構、政府認證，全有。這是Calvin生前的承諾，死也變無咧咩？」

  (No need to talk nonsense. The contract is in our hands. Company name, profit structure, government-recognized, everything. This was Calvin’s promise. Death doesn’t change that, does it?)

  Silence fell.

  The Arbiter gave no response, only a short click, indicating it was now Julius' turn.

  Julius stepped forward, calm as glass.

  「蔡兄弟接手後，整間高利貸的生意無啥賺錢咧。咱不是來吵，是想問：若有空間，嘛攏會有共識。嘛嘛可以談啦。」

  (Since the Chua brothers took over, the loan shark operation hasn’t been performing well. We’re not here to fight, we just want to ask: if there’s room, surely there’s room for understanding. There’s always space to negotiate.)

  The Arbiter gave a short, confirming click. Then, the line shifted.

  The Chua icon flickered once. Then twice. Then the younger brother’s voice came in, slicker than his elder’s, but sharp, defensive.

  「咱的營運數字是機密啦。Go先生若收到啥假消息，攏是誤會。生意照跑咧，賺到爽咧。咱也不需要外人插手，連議會的人嘛免啦。」

  (Our operating numbers are confidential. If Mr. Go received false information, that’s a misunderstanding. Business is thriving, we’re making good money. We don’t need outside help, not even from a Council member.)

  There was static in the silence that followed. Then: the Arbiter transferred the mic again.

  Julius’ tone changed subtly. It dropped half a key lower, enough to suggest he was ready to start drawing lines.

  「我聽的不是這樣咧。有些舊戶的帳，已經俾對家搶走咧。」

  (That’s not what I’m hearing. Word is, some of your big accounts have already been stolen by rivals.)

  He paused. His next words were slower. Sharper.

  「你們摩托車零件的生意如何？銷售回來無？若有Jiro的幫助，三合會這邊，伊的名嘛會給你們擋一下咧。」

  (And how’s your motorcycle parts business? Have sales bounced back yet? With Jiro’s help, his name as a Triad Council member, you’d have some shield from those rivals.)

  A longer silence this time.

  Then, the elder Chua spoke again. His voice was rougher, full of teeth.

  「Go先生，你是Jiro Lim Uy的代表。咱想聽的是他，那位軍師大人，怎麼說。」

  (Mr. Go, you speak for Jiro Lim Uy. What we want is to hear from him, the Grand Strategist, himself.)

  The Arbiter didn’t wait long before shifting the mic back to Julius.

  Julius’ reply came steady.

  「我只是私人幫忙。軍師無欲插手這攤事情。他選擇保持中立。」

  (I’m only helping in a personal capacity. The Grand Strategist wishes to remain neutral in this matter.)

  That’s when the Arbiter spoke, his tone slightly colder now, like the sharp edge of porcelain.

  「Go先生，私人身份來幫助議會成員，這是非常不尋常的做法。」

  (Mr. Go, an executor acting on a personal basis to assist a Council member, this is highly irregular.)

  Julius didn’t flinch.

  「軍師已經允許我這樣做。會後你若需要，我可以安排你親自確認。」

  (The Grand Strategist has given me permission. If you need confirmation after the session, I can arrange it.)

  There was a short silence.

  Then the Arbiter sighed, quiet, resigned.

  「若無正式確認，咱恐怕要結束會議，改天再議。現在進行結束儀式。」

  (Without formal confirmation, I’m afraid we must conclude this session and reconvene at another date. We will now proceed with the closing rites.)

  A short sequence followed, chant-like, ceremonial phrases spoken by all present. No one argued. No one objected.

  The line went dead.

  The screen dimmed.

  The condo was silent again, save for the faint hum of Rockwell’s ambient life filtering through the glass.

  Jiro hadn't said a single word.

  Not yet.

  Julius let out a short laugh, soft and dry, like smoke through the nose.

  「至少無是直接講無可能啦。」

  (At least it isn’t a straight no.)

  Jiro groaned, tilting his head back with theatrical fatigue before pushing himself up off the couch.

  「嗯, 死咧，累死人。」

  (Ugh, damn, this is exhausting.)

  He walked barefoot across the warm wood floor, silk robe trailing behind him like spilled wine. He reached the counter and plucked open the pastry box with one hand.

  The cheese roll was still warm. Buttery. Sticky.

  He took a bite, mouth full, speaking through the crumbs.

  「下一場啥時？有排嗎？」

  (When’s the next session? Is it scheduled?)

  Julius had returned to the table, slowly disconnecting cables.

  「看仲裁人安排啦。咱無法決定。催太快是越線，會違反我答應軍師的原則。」

  (It’s up to the Arbiter. We can’t decide. Pushing for a date would be overreaching, it would break my promise to the Grand Strategist.)

  Jiro chewed, swallowed. His brow lifted.

  「所以你到底無法做啥？咱問你喔。」

  (So what can’t you do then? Tell me.)

  Julius looked up, expression unreadable.

  「簡單講, 我無法用軍師的徽章，逼人做決定，或下命令，咱若是為你出力的時。」

  (Put simply, I can’t use the Grand Strategist’s emblem to force decisions or issue orders when I’m helping you.)

  He stepped closer to Jiro. His voice dropped, so quiet it barely reached over the kitchen fan.

  「但我幫你, 無需要什麼徽章。」

  (But to help you… I don’t need any emblem.)

  He leaned in.

  Their lips met, slowly, softly, with the weight of a thousand unspoken histories. Jiro’s breath caught against Julius’ mouth. The kiss deepened. Sweetness from the pastry still clung to Jiro’s lips, and Julius tasted it with reverence.

  Jiro’s fingers gripped the edge of the counter. Julius pressed closer.

  Then…

  Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt.

  The vibration of a phone, insistent.

  Julius pulled back, reluctantly, forehead resting lightly against Jiro’s for a second longer than necessary. He glanced at the screen on the counter.

  「Victoria。」

  (Victoria.)

  His tone changed. It was business now.

  「失陪一下。」

  (Excuse me.)

  He stepped away with the phone to his ear, voice dipping lower, walking toward the corner of the room near the window. His back to Jiro.

  Jiro returned to the couch wordlessly, biting again into the cheese roll with mechanical calm. He watched Julius’ back, the faint lines of tension in his shoulders, the way he lowered his voice but didn’t quite move out of earshot.

  He couldn't make out the words. Couldn’t latch onto a name, or a purpose.

  「媽的……」

  (Damn it...)

  He reached for the remote and turned on the TV, pressing the volume up faster than necessary.

  A Taiwanese soap opera lit up the screen, someone slapping someone else, crying in a kitchen, dramatic strings screaming in the background.

  Jiro slumped sideways into the couch cushions, half-listening, half-drifting.

  Somewhere behind him, Julius kept speaking softly in a language Jiro suddenly hated the sound of.

  Then. the television screamed.

  「你根本不是我媽媽！」

  (You’re not even my real mother!)

  Tears. Slaps. Gasps. Then…

  「伊是啦。一直都在你身邊的，攏是我啦。」

  (It’s me. I’ve been by your side this whole time.)

  The neighbor’s face was trembling, mascara running. Music swelled, strings shrieking like birds in heat.

  Jiro blinked once, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to react, but was interrupted by the soft thud of a body sinking into the couch beside him.

  Julius.

  He slid in like it was the most natural thing in the world, one arm curling behind Jiro’s back, the other stretching across his shoulder and giving him a tight, grounding squeeze. His scent, smoke, soap, faint leather, filled the small distance between them.

  Julius looked at the screen and smiled.

  「哇，我知這部啦。演那個第二男主角的，真卡哇伊咧。」

  (Oh, I know this one. The guy playing the second lead is super cute.)

  Jiro side-eyed him.

  「電話講啥？」

  (What was the call about?)

  Julius didn’t look away from the screen, though his fingers played lightly along the seam of the couch.

  「NBI已經確認Severino要對付的是誰。他們開始行動咧。樓下那組也撤咧，去支援。」

  (NBI’s confirmed who Severino’s target is. They’re mobilizing now. The team downstairs has been pulled out to support.)

  Jiro turned slightly, curiosity edging his tone.

  「你怎麼會知道Severino的動向？」

  (How did you even know what Severino was up to?)

  Now Julius looked at him, eyes sharp beneath his casual tone.

  「伊若要動手，就一定需要朋友, 幫伊搬人、藏人。我只需要問對的人。」

  (If he’s going to move, he needs friends, to transport and hide people. I just had to ask the right ones.)

  He shrugged, grinning faintly.

  「這又不是幫你。所以我可以用執行官的權限問啦。」

  (This doesn’t count as helping you. So I get to use my Executor authority.)

  Jiro let out a small laugh, relief, affection, and fatigue all mixed together.

  He leaned his head gently against Julius’ shoulder, breathing in that faint scent of rust and safety.

  「有你在這裡幫我，真好咧。」

  (I’m really glad you’re here to help me.)

  Julius didn’t answer right away. He slid his hand into Jiro’s hair and scratched lightly, fingers running through soft strands, comforting like muscle memory.

  The TV continued.

  On-screen, mother and daughter were now sobbing in each other’s arms, reunited, for real this time. Even the lighting had softened.

  Jiro said nothing.

  Julius said nothing.

  But they watched, together, in silence, as someone else got the ending they couldn’t name aloud.