Morning at Unit 14 began with the sound of a small television.

Sera had turned it on while sorting tea cups near the front side of the office. The volume was low, but the words still reached the others.

Another report spoke about suspicious deaths in the lower districts.

The newsreader said two men connected to street activity had died in separate incidents over the last few days. The police had not confirmed a link, but the channel kept repeating the phrase suspicious activity.

The report was short, but the timing was uncomfortable. One death near a storage lane could be ignored. Two deaths within days made people start counting names.

Shinju looked at the screen longer than the others.

Kenji noticed.

"Something wrong?"

Shinju blinked and turned away.

"Sorry," she said. "Old habit. I notice suspicious patterns too quickly."

Kiri buttoned his coat.

"Then notice this pattern too. We have meetings to take before the market understands what is happening."

Davin picked up the sample case.

Kenji took the file Rivan had brought.

This time the three of them were not walking out like men hoping for mercy. They had information and leverage, with enough confidence to look dangerous without raising their voices.

Their first stop was Vesta Vision.

It was the same company that had rejected them earlier with a polite face and a closed door. The building still looked clean from outside, with glass panels, a reception desk, and a company logo polished enough to make visitors feel smaller.

Kenji remembered the first visit too clearly. Back then, he had walked out feeling as if the floor had slipped under him. Today, with Kiri beside him and Wil’s file, the same glass doors did not look as heavy.

Kiri did not slow down at the entrance.

At reception, the woman looked up.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Tell Director Sovan that AsterCore Components is here," Kiri said. "Also tell him we would like to speak about the South Dock rebate account."

The receptionist did not react to the phrase.

It meant nothing to her.

But she still wrote it down and made the call.

Kenji watched her face as she spoke. At first she was normal. Then her eyes flicked toward them.

That tiny change told him the phrase had landed on the other side.

Kenji’s fingers tightened around the file. Until that moment, part of him had still wondered whether using Wil’s information would actually work. Now the proof came through a receptionist who did not even understand what she had just said.

"Yes, sir," she said into the phone. "I will send them in."

She put the receiver down more carefully than before.

"Please follow me."

Kiri’s expression did not change, but Davin saw the small satisfaction in his eyes.

They were taken to a meeting room.

Director Sovan was already inside.

This time he was alone.

That alone told Kiri enough.

The man’s face looked controlled, but his hands were not. One hand kept touching the edge of the folder in front of him. The other rested near a glass of water he had not drunk.

"Sit," Sovan said.

They sat.

Sovan did not wait.

"How do you know that?"

Kiri almost smiled.

The man had already admitted enough by asking that question.

If Sovan had been innocent, he would have asked what the term meant. Instead, he asked how they knew it. Kiri kept his face steady and made a note of that reaction in his head.

"We have sources," Kiri said.

"What sources?"

"Our parent side did not like the way you rejected us," Kiri said calmly. "So they looked a little deeper. They thought you should understand that closing a door without listening can have a price."

Sovan stared at him.

"Who does something like that?"

"People who do business seriously."

The room went quiet.

Kiri opened the file and placed one page on the table, face down.

He did not show the page yet. Showing everything too early would turn pressure into proof, and proof could create panic. A covered page was sometimes stronger because the other person filled in the blank himself.

"We are not here to destroy you," he said. "We are here to do business. You can choose which one happens."

Sovan’s throat moved.

"You think I can just change suppliers because you walked in with threats?"

"You have authority over emergency procurement," Kiri said. "We know that too."

Sovan looked at Kenji.

Kenji spoke this time.

"We do not have time to waste. You can approve a limited emergency purchase and defend it upward. That is your headache, not ours."

Sovan’s forehead began to shine with sweat.

"Listen to me."

Kiri interrupted him.

"No. You have five minutes. In those five minutes, we negotiate price and delivery. Nothing else."

Sovan leaned back.

He had expected fear, maybe a request, maybe another pitch.

This was none of that.

The last time they came, he had rejected them from above. This time they sat across from him as if they had already opened the locked cabinet behind his desk.

"I can place a stock order," he said at last. "A small one."

"We do not want a stock order," Kiri said. "We want a time-frame order."

Sovan frowned.

Kiri continued, "Your imported chip supply is about to tighten. You know it, and we know it. If you treat us as a one-time backup, you will still come back when the shortage hits. If you sign a fixed supply window now, you protect your line before your own people start asking why you waited."

Sovan did not answer.

Kenji placed another paper on the table.

"We studied your position," he said. "This is not charity for us, and it is not punishment for you. It is an opportunity before your problem becomes visible."

Sovan looked at the paper, then at Kiri.

For the first time, he stopped trying to deny the situation and started thinking about how to survive it.

That was the shift Kiri had been waiting for. Once a buyer stopped arguing about whether the problem existed, the discussion could move to terms.