Chapter 890 - 890: Nothing Left to Trade

Ramirez suddenly lifts his head. Every trace of remorse vanishes from his face. His jaw tightens, his eyes blaze with naked hatred.

"You arrogant little bastard…!"

As he abruptly pushes himself to his feet, both cuffed hands shoot instinctively toward Ryoma's throat.

But the court officers react instantly. One steps directly into Ramirez's path while another grabs both of his arms before he can reach Ryoma, forcing him backward.

"Sir! Calm down!"

Ramirez struggles against their grip, his breathing growing heavier with every passing second.

"You self-righteous piece of shit!" he snarls. "You think you're better than everyone else? You think you've won?"

Ryoma doesn't even flinch. He simply watches as Ramirez continues fighting against the officers, silently confirming what he had already known from the very beginning.

Then he slowly turns toward the attorney. "I knew the apology was never real."

The attorney takes a quiet breath, forcing himself to remain composed despite what has just happened. "With all due respect, you're the one creating an unreasonable condition. Matters like this are meant to be resolved privately. There is no reason to turn an apology into a public performance."

Ryoma shakes his head. "From the very beginning this has been a public matter. It involves a business built on public trust, public image, and public perception. The damage was done in front of the boxing world, yet now you're asking me to accept his remorse behind closed doors."

He takes a step closer, looking straight at the attorney. "It wasn't me who created this dilemma. Your legal strategy did."

Superintendent Shibata and the prosecutor exchange a brief glance. Neither of them says a word, but both can feel a quiet sense of admiration.

They had expected Ryoma to be shaken by the offer of thirty million dollars. Instead, he had immediately seen through the defense's real objective and understood exactly how accepting it in private would shift the public scrutiny onto himself.

The attorney, meanwhile, has completely lost the calm confidence he carried into this meeting. He no longer finds himself negotiating with an emotional young boxer, but with someone who understands the implications of every move being made.

He studies Ryoma in silence for a few more moments before finally turning toward Ramirez.

"The decision is yours now, Mr. Ramirez."

Ramirez closes his eyes for a brief moment before giving a slow nod.

"...Fine. I'll do it."

He turns toward the door, and everyone else begins following behind him. Just as one of the court officers reaches for the handle, Ryoma speaks again.

"One more thing."

The officer's hand remains on the doorknob while Ramirez comes to a stop without looking back.

"You're not trying to convince me anymore," Ryoma says. "You're trying to convince everyone outside that door. So you'd better get rid of that hatred on your face. If you have to, shed a few crocodile tears... and make your dogeza look as sincere as you possibly can."

Neither court officer opens the door immediately. Instead, both of them quietly watch Ramirez, almost as though they are waiting to see whether he intends to follow Ryoma's advice.

Ramirez slowly inhales through his nose before letting the breath out just as carefully. He closes his eyes, forcing the anger back down where no one can see it.

Then, almost against his own pride, he begins reaching for memories he would rather forget, replaying the lowest moments of his life in a desperate attempt to summon something that resembled genuine sorrow.

When he finally opens his eyes again, the transformation is so abrupt that even the two court officers struggle to keep a straight face. Only a moment ago he had looked ready to kill someone. Now he appears exhausted, defeated, his reddened eyes and miserable expression making him look like an entirely different man.

"Are you ready, Mr. Ramirez?" one of the officers asks.

"Yes…" Ramirez replies, his voice carrying a faint tremor. "I'm ready."

The officer finally opens the door. The instant Ramirez steps into the corridor, a barrage of camera flashes explodes in front of him. Every lens immediately locks onto his pitiful expression and the moisture gathering in his eyes.

Whether the remorse is genuine or not, none of the reporters can tell. But the moment they see Ramirez emerge with watery eyes and a defeated expression, they immediately sense that the private meeting has taken an unexpected turn.

When no one makes any attempt to leave, the reporters seize the opportunity. Dozens of microphones are thrust forward at once as questions erupt from every direction.

"Mr. Ramirez! Have you reached a settlement with Mr. Takeda?"

"Is it true you're offering financial compensation?"

"Will the victim withdraw any future civil action?"

"Mr. Takeda! Have you forgiven him?"

"Does this mean the criminal case is over?"

The corridor fills with overlapping voices until Ramirez's attorney raises a hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please."

He waits for them to settle before continuing.

"My client and Mr. Takeda have reached an understanding in principle. Before anything proceeds further, however, my client wishes to address the Japanese public directly. He believes he owes an apology not only to Mr. Takeda, but also to this country, and to everyone who loves the sport of boxing."

Every camera immediately swings toward Ramirez, waiting for him to deliver his statement.

Ramirez clears his throat once before speaking. "I deeply regret everything I have done. Through my own actions, I caused suffering to another professional boxer, disappointed many people, and tarnished the spirit of fair competition that boxing should represent."

His eyes slowly sweep across the reporters. "To the Japanese public... and to boxing fans everywhere... I sincerely apologize."

Then he turns toward Ryoma.

"Son..." he begins.

Ryoma's expression hardens almost imperceptibly. The forced warmth in Ramirez's voice makes his skin crawl.

But Ramirez continues anyway. "I am truly sorry for everything I have done to you. I took away opportunities that belonged to you, endangered your career, and caused pain that should never have existed. I ask for your forgiveness."

Ryoma gives no response. His expression remains unreadable, both hands still resting inside his pockets as he quietly watches him.

Ramirez understands exactly what that silence means. Although he has already apologized before everyone, Ryoma is still waiting for something else.

But now, Ramirez's entire body gradually tenses. Performing a dogeza behind closed doors had already taken everything he had. Doing the same thing here, with dozens of cameras pointed directly at him and every major sports outlet in Japan watching, is another matter entirely.

Again, his pride refuses to let his knees bend, at least, until the attorney reminding him.

"Mr. Ramirez."

Ramirez glances toward him, closes his eyes for a brief moment, and slowly nods.

He draws a deep breath before bending forward, lowering himself farther than before until his upper body is nearly level with Ryoma's knees. Yet even then, his knees refuse to touch the floor.

Ryoma continues looking down at him without saying a word. It's becomes so obvious that he is still waiting for the dogeza.

But as the silence stretches on, Ryoma notices more and more cameras swinging toward them. And gradually, the attention is no longer centered solely on Ramirez. Some reporters have started watching Ryoma instead, silently wondering why he still refuses to acknowledge the apology.

Realizing that the situation is beginning to work against him as well, Ryoma quietly exhales before giving a small nod. He never says a word, but the gesture alone is enough.

Flashes immediately begin exploding across the corridor as the reporters instinctively capture the image unfolding before their eyes: the once-powerful promoter bowing in humiliation, while the young boxer stands motionless with both hands in his pockets, staring down at him.

Watching from the courtroom entrance farther down the corridor, Cabello lets out a quiet, mocking chuckle.

"Can you believe this, Rivera? Hugo Ramirez... bowing before the one kid he hates most."

"We both know it's only a façade," Rivera says.

"I know, I know," Cabello replies with an amused smile. "That's what makes it so entertaining."

***

Unfortunately for Ramirez, probation is still out of reach. Everything he has just done succeeds only in persuading the court to reduce the sentence, not to suspend it altogether.

The judge slowly looks down again at the written decision before him. He takes a pause briefly before continuing.

"The Court has also taken into account the defendant's acknowledgment of responsibility, his efforts to compensate the victim through jidan, and his public expression of remorse. These are recognized as mitigating circumstances and have been given due weight in determining the appropriate sentence."

He closes the file before delivering the ruling. "Accordingly, this Court sentences the defendant, Hugo Ramirez, to three years' imprisonment. The request for suspension of sentence, commonly referred to as probation, is denied."

Then he gives a single strike of the gavel. "This Court is adjourned."

As the courtroom begins to stir, Ramirez remains frozen in place while his attorney quietly leans over and explains the ruling in English.

It takes only a few seconds for the meaning to sink in. The color slowly drains from Ramirez's face before returning all at once, this time as a deep flush of anger.

"You're telling me..." Ramirez mutters, his voice hoarse, "after humiliating myself before the entire country, I'm still leaving this courthouse in handcuffs?"

The attorney gives a resigned nod. "But at least, the Court reduced the sentence to three years."