I Created a Containment Object at the Start, and Became a God

89: Do you want power?!Okamoto Ichiro bowed and scraped, almost folding his body into a ninety-degree angle as he fawningly assured Yamada Jino:

“Yes! Yes! Big Brother Yamada, please rest assured! Tonight! Tonight, I will definitely make Yoshiko go to the shop! Please grant me a few more days! Definitely! Definitely!”

Hearing this, Yamada Jino and the two other Gokudō members exchanged a look and burst into a knowing, lewd roar of laughter.

Yamada forcefully patted Ichiro’s shoulder, making him stumble and nearly fall.

“You brat know what’s good for you! Hahaha! Then it’s settled!”

Yamada Jino grinned, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth.

“But speaking of which, Ichiro, your wife Yoshiko’s figure... that taste... tsk tsk, truly slick! So wanton! It makes us brothers itch with desire every time! Hahahaha!”

Filth and obscenities splashed like dirty water throughout the narrow alley, accompanied by the even more vulgar teasing of the other two men.

Ichiro’s face showed no trace of humiliation or anger. Instead, he forced out a smile that suggested he was honored, almost pleading, and bowed repeatedly:

“Yes, yes, yes! It is Yoshiko’s good fortune to be favored by Big Brother Yamada and all the other Big Brothers!”

The three Yamadas mocked him a few more times, then turned around, satisfied, and walked out of the alley arm-in-arm, cursing and grumbling, their voices gradually fading away.

Only when the three men’s backs completely vanished from the alley entrance did the servile, fawning smile on Ichiro’s face instantly collapse, as if he had peeled off a mask.

He slumped against the cold, damp wall, his entire body seeming boneless, and gasped for air.

He reached out and touched his bruised and swollen cheek, sucking in a sharp breath from the pain. But the physical agony was nothing compared to the anxiety and despair in his heart.

“My job... it’s gone... I was fired by the company...”

He muttered hollowly, his voice hoarse, “The loan shark debt owed to the Yamada-gumi... I can’t even pay this month’s interest... the principal is an astronomical figure...”

He frantically grabbed at his hair, his nails unconsciously moving to his mouth to be chewed due to anxiety, his eyes filled with the madness of having reached a dead end.

“What should I do... what should I do... If I can’t pay the money... I’ll be killed... I’ll definitely be dumped into Tokyo Bay to feed the fish!”

Despair engulfed him like a cold tide.

However, when his wife Yoshiko’s gentle and beautiful face flashed through his mind, a twisted, pathological light gradually replaced some of the despair.

A bizarre expression, mixed with extreme excitement and neurotic frenzy, began to appear on his face, his lips uncontrollably pulling upward into a chilling smile.

“That’s right... that’s right... there’s still Yoshiko...”

He muttered softly, as if he had found the only way out, “Yoshiko is so pretty... and has such a good figure... Before, she just helped out occasionally... This time... this time I can make her go... specifically go...”

His voice grew lower and more distorted, filled with selfish and cruel calculations.

“Make her take clients... Yes! Go to that kind of shop! With her looks, she’ll definitely earn a lot of money! We can pay off the debt quickly! Maybe... maybe there will even be extra money left over for me to gamble with and win back my losses!”

Once this thought was born, it spread wildly in his heart like a poisonous vine.

He completely disregarded his wife’s wishes and dignity, and even pathologically derived a twisted sense of “hope” and “excitement” from it.

In his warped values, this seemed to be the “perfect plan” to solve all his difficulties.

Leaning against the wall, he was immersed in the ugly fantasy he had concocted: sacrificing his wife to buy himself breathing room, or even a chance to gamble and win back his money.

The expression on his face, a mixture of fear, greed, and madness, appeared especially terrifying in the dim light.

Okamoto Ichiro dragged his battered body, which felt like it was filled with lead, and staggered through the dark hallway.

Every step sent excruciating pain through his wounds, but the crushing despair in his heart and the fear of the future hurt even more.

He finally shuffled to the door of his cheap apartment, pulled out the key with a trembling hand, and fumbled several times before it entered the keyhole.

“Click.”

The door opened. A familiar smell of cheap perfume mixed with cooking food wafted out.

“Yoshiko... I’m home...” Ichiro called out weakly, his voice lowered, habitually trying to maintain the last shred of his pathetic dignity in front of his wife.

However, the room was quiet; no one answered.

Ichiro frowned, a flicker of doubt rising in his heart. At this time, Yoshiko should be home preparing dinner.

He took off his worn leather shoes and padded silently inward on the cold floor.

Just then, a subtle yet unusually clear sound came from the direction of the bedroom.

It was a woman’s moan, suppressed yet wanton.

It was a man’s heavy panting, carrying satisfied bestiality.

Interspersed were broken, vulgar pieces of dialogue:

“Mmm... Big Brother Senkuchi... you’re so amazing...”

Boom—!!!

Ichiro’s mind felt like it had been violently struck by a heavy hammer, instantly going blank! Blood rushed frantically to his head, making his vision darken and his ears ring!

An extreme, twisted rage instantly consumed him! But the source of this anger was not the humiliation of betrayal, but—

“Bitch!!”

Ichiro roared madly in his heart, “How dare she?! If she runs off with someone else! What about my plan?! What about my debt?! I’ll be killed by the Yamada-gumi!!”

The terrifying prospect of his plan failing and being hounded to death by creditors completely dominated his reason, a frenzy woven from fear and rage.

Like a beast driven into a corner, he lunged toward the bedroom door!

“Bang!” He kicked open the unlocked bedroom door!

The scene inside the bedroom was unbearable.

His wife, Yoshiko, was pinned beneath a muscular, bald brute covered in ferocious tattoos, in an extremely wanton position.

Neither of them had expected anyone to burst in, and both were startled!

Yoshiko let out a short shriek and instinctively grabbed the blanket to cover herself. As for the bald brute—it was Senkuchi Hyakusen, the Wakagashira of the Akiba-gumi.

After a moment of shock, his face was quickly replaced by brutal fury, having recognized who had burst in.

“Baka yarō! Is that you, you piece of trash?!”

Senkuchi Hyakusen showed no shame at being caught in the act. Instead, like a beast whose authority had been challenged, he roared harshly at Ichiro, his voice like a great bell.

“Who told you to come in?! Get the hell out! Do you want to die?!”

Faced with Senkuchi Hyakusen’s murderous gaze and terrifying presence, Ichiro felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him. The courage he had just mustered, fueled by anger, instantly vanished without a trace.

The Akiba-gumi was a massive Gokudō organization in this area, and Senkuchi Hyakusen was notorious for his ruthless cruelty—he was someone Ichiro absolutely could not afford to provoke!

“I... I’m sorry! Big Brother Senkuchi! I... I came to the wrong door! I’ll scram! I’ll scram right now!”

Ichiro was scared out of his wits, his face pale as paper. He quickly bowed and scraped, apologizing incoherently.

He then clumsily backed out of the bedroom, carefully and gently closing the door, as if afraid that closing it too loudly would disturb the “big shot” inside.

Sliding down the cold living room wall, Ichiro sat on the floor, his entire body trembling violently and uncontrollably.

Soon, the sounds from the bedroom resumed, making one blush, even mixing in Yoshiko’s flattery toward Senkuchi Hyakusen and his own humiliating laughter aimed at Ichiro.

But Ichiro could no longer make out the specific details. Immense fear and despair, like cold iron tongs, tightly gripped his heart.

It’s over... everything is over... Yoshiko has latched onto someone like Senkuchi Hyakusen; how could she possibly listen to him and “take clients” to pay off the debt?

She probably couldn’t wait to get rid of a burden like him!

The plan was completely ruined! How was he supposed to pay the Yamada-gumi debt? Only death awaited him!

“Ugh...” Ichiro curled up in the corner, clutching his head tightly with both hands, his nails nearly digging into his scalp.

He whimpered in suppressed despair, like a stray dog abandoned in the rain, his body shaking like a sieve.

Yet, deep within this extreme fear and despair, a darker, more frenzied emotion was sprouting wildly like a poisonous mushroom.

His eyes flickered in the darkness with chaotic, resentful, and unwilling light, his lips twitching nervously as he uttered meaningless whispers:

“No... it can’t be like this... I can’t die... there must be a way... there must be...”

Just as Okamoto Ichiro was curled up in the corner, repeatedly torn apart by thoughts of despair and madness, and nearing the brink of complete collapse—

A deep, hoarse voice, seeming to carry countless echoes and filled with an unspeakable temptation, drilled directly into the depths of his mind like the faintest electric current:

“Do... you crave power...”

...