He turned to Matt Wallace, whose expression was shifting by the second, and gave him a polite smile.
"I just received word from my attorney. Regarding the technology and standards for the Light Weapons Tactical Rail, the patent application we submitted has already been officially accepted by the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office."
A sharp crack went off in Matt's mind.
In an instant, every detail of the negotiation snapped into place.
From the surrendering of the patent… to the additional clause… to that seemingly hard-won "seven years"—
he finally understood.
From the mont he stepped into this conference room, he had rely been reading lines from a script that was already written.
And the "three years" he proudly bargained back?
Nothing more than scraps tossed his way so he could keep his dignity.
This Japanese man had entered the room holding every card.
Jas White lifted his coffee, took a sip, movents calm as always.
But when he looked at Takuya, the scrutiny in his eyes was now mixed with sothing new—
genuine recognition from one predator to another.
Matt slowly raised his head. The professional smile on his face had vanished, replaced by a complicated, indescribable expression.
"So," Matt asked, voice a little dry, "everything we discussed today was built on the fact that… the patent has already been accepted?"
"A rigorous foundation is a prerequisite for successful cooperation," Takuya answered flawlessly. He pocketed his phone, maintaining that harmless smile. "We can't waste your valuable ti with a concept that isn't legally protected… can we?"
Matt stared at him for a full five seconds.
Then, unexpectedly—he laughed.
Not a corporate, polished laugh.
A bitter, helpless, self-mocking laugh.
"Mr. Nakayama," he said, leaning back in his chair, finally relaxing completely, "I take back what I said earlier. Working with you… there's no need to worry about risks."
He paused.
"Because you calculate every risk to dust before you even open your mouth."
Only now did he truly understand what Jas White ant by "no one can refuse this."
Because refusal wasn't an option.
"Well then," Takuya said lightly, as if oblivious to subtext. He extended his hand. "Shall we have a pleasant cooperation?"
"Pleasant cooperation," Matt replied, shaking it.
When the eting room door closed behind him, Matt didn't return to his office.
Instead, he walked straight into a vacant smoking room.
Click.
Fire touched tobacco.
He drew in a harsh breath, letting the burning smoke settle his pounding heart.
This Japanese man…
Takuya's too-young face and disarmingly innocent smile replayed over and over in his head.
That "additional clause"—
originally his trump card to regain control—
had instead beco a bone so tough that Colt alone was expected to gnaw through it.
A perfectly legitimate badge of leadership—
and a poison blade hidden inside honey.
Eat it, or don't?
If they refused, Colt would be reduced to just another ordinary manufacturer under the new standard.
If they accepted…
they would have to negotiate, appease, and trade favors with the defiant giants—Smith & Wesson, Remington, Ruger—until those stubborn beasts willingly acknowledged Colt's leadership.
The difficulty was obvious.
Smoke curled upward.
Matt's gaze slowly sharpened.
Troubleso? Certainly.
But the rewards were staggering.
If they succeeded, Colt wouldn't rely dominate the tactical rail ecosystem—
they would beco the undisputed leader of the entire Arican light-weapons industry.
He crushed the cigarette, stepped out of the smoking room, and walked with renewed resolve.
The first thing he did back in his office was summon the company's highest-level ergency eting.
When Matt laid out Takuya Nakayama's entire plan—
including the custom-built movie concept,
and the additional clause that demanded Colt "unify the martial world"—
the entire boardroom fell into dead silence.
These veterans of the arms industry—old foxes who'd clawed through decades of blood and bureaucracy—looked at one another, their expressions a kaleidoscope of disbelief.
Shock.
Confusion.
And most of all—the stunned realization of being slapped by the oncoming tide of a new era.
"A Japanese man teaching us how to sell the Arican spirit to our own people?" one silver-haired board mber muttered, bewildered. "And we're supposed to thank him for it?"
"But he's right," the marketing director said, tapping the table, eyes gleaming. "Bundling firearms with high-quality lifestyle branding—this is brilliant! We've sold guns for decades, always chasing precision, reliability, self-defense. But we never thought about how to make guns cool."
"Cool doesn't put food on the table," the old board mber grumbled.
"It absolutely does!" the marketing director shot back. "Cool makes a middle-class hoowner—who only wanted a simple pistol for protection—happily shell out for a full rifle setup, attachnts, and a shooting-range mbership! Do you understand how huge that market is?"
Argunts spiraled, inevitably circling back to the troubleso "additional clause."
"Convince Smith & Wesson? Are you insane? Last month we were fighting over the sa DoD contract—we nearly brawled at the hearing."
"Remington? Forget it. Those arrogant bastards will never agree to let us represent that Japanese company's voting power."
Matt listened quietly until the noise died down. Then he spoke.
"Gentlen… this is an open conspiracy."
He scanned their faces.
"He placed a fat, dripping slice of cake on the table, and told us: if you want it, you'll have to beat everyone else for it. He doesn't care who ends up in charge. He just wants us to fight."
"If we win, Colt becos the leader.
If we lose—or don't dare fight—then the NRA will carve up that cake, and Colt will end up bickering inside the association like everyone else."
The room fell quiet.
"And don't forget," Matt added, "the patent application has already been filed. We never had control—not from the start."
At last, the chairman of Colt—a hawk-eyed elder whose presence alone silenced the room—spoke.
"Do it."
Two words.
And with it, the Arican light-weapons industry stepped into a new era—
an unprecedented internal war was about to begin.
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