She handed him a small, black business card. It didn't have a phone number. It simply said:
Uramiya tilted her hat, a faint, predatory smile touching her lips. "We don't take tips from the targets. We only deliver the package." She handed him a small, black business card
Sato’s phone buzzed. An anonymous message: “The debt has been noted.” "We don't take tips from the targets
In a quiet, high-end izakaya, a man named Sato toasted to his own success. He had just successfully framed a junior colleague for embezzlement, securing his own promotion and a hefty bonus. He felt like a king. He didn't notice the woman sitting three tables away, her face partially obscured by the wide brim of a black hat. He had just successfully framed a junior colleague
Here is a short story inspired by the gritty atmosphere of that specific era of the manga: The Price of a Grudge