Chapter 848: A Perfect Illusion
A day after the spectacular showdown at Yoyogi Gymnasium, a single image has come to define the night. Ryoma Takeda stands beneath a relentless storm of camera flashes, his right fist raised high above his head while Liam O’Connell lies motionless behind him on the canvas.
The photograph spreads across the world within hours, dominating sports websites, newspaper front pages, television broadcasts, and social media timelines alike.
THE CHAMELEON STRIKES AGAIN!
Ryoma Takeda earns a stunning fifth-round knockout to become the official mandatory challenger for the WBO World Championship.
FROM REGIONAL KING TO WORLD TITLE CONTENDER
The unbeaten Japanese sensation is now one victory away from boxing’s highest stage.
THE DEMPSEY ROLL THAT NEVER WAS
Analysts continue dissecting the psychological feint that fooled not only Liam O’Connell, but millions watching around the globe.
Slow-motion breakdowns of the decisive exchange quickly flood every major boxing program.
Frame by frame, commentators replay Ryoma’s subtle stance switch before the devastating right-handed Gazelle Punch, while tactical analysts praise it as one of the most sophisticated pieces of ring deception seen in recent years.
Across social media, the debate refuses to slow.
"He weaponized his own reputation."
"That wasn’t just boxing IQ. That was psychological warfare."
"I replayed it five times before realizing it wasn’t a Dempsey Roll."
"How do you prepare for someone who tricks even the commentators?"
Meanwhile, international news organizations continue pairing another headline alongside his triumph.
HUGO RAMIREZ ARRESTED BY FBI IN PUERTO RICO
The arrest of one of boxing’s most influential promoters has sent shockwaves through the sport, with industry insiders questioning how the ongoing criminal case could affect the WBO world title picture and several major promotional agreements.
With Ryoma’s victory, the promoter’s arrest, and the WBO title picture suddenly thrown into motion, many observers describe the past twenty-four hours as one of the most dramatic turning points the sport has witnessed in years.
***
St. Luke’s International Hospital
Chūō, Tokyo
While Ryoma’s victory dominates headlines around the world, the battered Canadian veteran knows nothing of it, his attention consumed instead by the slow recovery from the punishment he endured inside Yoyogi Gymnasium.
The brutal fifth-round knockout has left its mark. Dark bruises spread beneath both eyes, his left cheek is visibly swollen, and several fresh stitches run neatly along the cut above his eyebrow.
Although the scans have ruled out life-threatening injuries, the repeated blows to the head have prompted doctors to keep him under close observation for lingering concussion symptoms.
One of assistant coaches remains quietly at his bedside, occasionally speaking with the attending nurse as Liam rests.
Standing just outside the room, meanwhile, a plainclothes detective from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police keeps watch.
With nothing but the occasional footsteps of nurses passing through the corridor, he finds himself stifling yet another yawn, his eyelids growing heavier by the minute.
Then a man’s voice in fluent English steals his attention.
"Excuse me. Is this Liam O’Connell’s room?"
The detective blinks, staring at the visitor for a second longer than necessary.
"No way..." he mutters in Japanese.
He quickly clears his throat before attempting English of his own.
"Um... you are..."
The visitor offers a polite smile. "I’m Jean-Pascal Roy."
The detective’s eyes widen with recognition. "Yeah... the legendary Blizzard Roy. Ah... you’re here to visit Liam O’Connell? Are you two close?"
Roy nods. "We’ve been friends for a long time."
The detective slides the door open and respectfully escorts him inside.
"Please, come in."
Liam is already awake, propped against the raised hospital bed while the assistant coach helps him with breakfast.
At the sight of Roy entering the room, the assistant freezes mid-motion.
"Oh, my..."
Liam turns his head, and his eyes widen. "Roy... what are you doing here in Tokyo?"
"To see you, of course," Roy replies as he walks over.
Liam instinctively shifts, trying to sit up straighter, but Roy gently places a hand on his shoulder.
"Easy. Stay where you are."
Only after Liam relaxes does Roy pull over the empty chair and sit beside the bed.
Liam then lets out a quiet chuckle. "One of boxing’s greatest legends flew all the way from Canada just to visit me in a hospital room? Yeah, right... I must still be unconscious."
Roy laughs. "Not quite. I came to watch your fight. I was sitting ringside the whole night. Didn’t you notice?"
Liam blinks before giving an apologetic smile. "Nope. Once I stepped out of the corridor, everything else disappeared."
He lets out a slow breath. "The crowd was absolutely behind that kid. The atmosphere was unbelievable. Somehow... it felt even bigger than my fight against Cabello."
A bitter smile slowly forms across his bruised face. "And damn... I couldn’t even make it through five rounds."
Roy keeps the faint smile on his face. Across from him, however, Liam’s smile gradually fades. His eyes lose focus, staring somewhere beyond the hospital room as fragments of the fifth round replay themselves in his mind.
"I still can’t make sense of it," Liam starts again. "He was building a Dempsey Roll. I timed the momentum perfectly and threw the counter. But..."
"No," Roy says calmly. "That wasn’t a Dempsey Roll."
Liam turns sharply toward him. "Wha... what are you talking about?"
Roy doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studies Liam for a moment, understanding that the confusion still hasn’t left him.
"Why did you assume it was a Dempsey Roll?" he asks. "You know what kind of fighter Ryoma Takeda is. A technician. A counter puncher with exceptional footwork. And you think someone like that would gamble his life on a weapon as reckless as the Dempsey Roll?"
Liam lets out a bitter laugh. "Then you tell me... Why would the legendary Blizzard Roy use the Dempsey Roll against Celeb Mercer?"
"I used it as a trap," Roy says flatly.
"Oh, come on," Liam says with another shake of his head. "You used it to break Mercer’s Philly Shell."
Roy remains perfectly composed. "Did you learn the Dempsey Roll for the same reason? To break Ryoma Takeda’s Philly Shell?"
Liam doesn’t answer. He simply keeps looking at Roy, and little by little, something begins to unravel inside him.
"You’re telling me..."
Roy gives a small nod. "I used the Dempsey Roll because I wanted Mercer to counter it. But I forced him into a very specific counter. Once I knew exactly what punch was coming, I could prepare the answer before he ever threw it."
Liam falls silent before giving another quiet chuckle. "Well... my Dempsey Roll did break the kid’s Philly Shell."
"Sure," Roy agrees. "But you completely misread the motive behind his next move that resembles the Dempsey Roll. What still surprises me is this... why were you so convinced he’d answer with a Dempsey Roll?"
Liam lowers his eyes. For several long seconds, he says nothing. He searches through every exchange, every adjustment, every decision he made inside the ring, only to find himself becoming even more lost.
"To be honest... I don’t think I understood anything that happened in that fight."
He lets out a weary sigh. "You know what kind of boxer I am. I’ve always approached my boxing by making it as simple as possible. But against that kid... my brain never stopped working. Every second, I was always trying to understand him, trying to predict what he was building next."
He looks back at Roy. "I know why you’re here. You’re more interested in Ryoma Takeda than in checking whether I’m still alive."
Roy says nothing. He doesn’t deny it, and the silence is answer enough.
Liam gives another tired smile. "Sadly... I still can’t figure him out."
For the first time, the assistant coach joins the conversation. "You see... We had already been caught off guard since the opening round."
"The Peek-a-Boo?" Roy asks.
"That was the first surprise," Liam replies. "After that, he kept forcing me to prepare for one thing... only for him to do something completely different."
"We had to adjust our approach almost every round," the assistant coach says. "Our overall strategy never changed, wear him down. But every few minutes it felt like the fight had become an entirely different match against an entirely different opponent."
Liam nods slowly. "By the fourth round... I actually thought I had him figured out. For a few minutes, I was certain I’d taken control of the fight. Read him plainly. Assessed his condition. His mental state."
His eyes drift toward the window. "Then, halfway through the fifth... I realized that certainty had been nothing more than an illusion. It was like... he deliberately showed me a face I could understand, only to find out it was only another mask."
Liam slowly turns back toward Roy. "We studied him for months. We knew his habit of stealing his opponents’ weapons in the middle of a fight."
"So when you saw that movement..." Roy says, "you were convinced he was copying your Dempsey Roll?"
Liam lets out a quiet sigh. "He’d already shown the Peek-a-Boo. He used the same slips and rolls I’d been using. It wasn’t a stretch to believe he’d go one step further and copy the Dempsey Roll itself."
"But that’s exactly where he got you," the assistant coach says. "It was nothing more than an ordinary slip and roll. At the very end, he simply switched stance and widened his base. That made his upper body travel much farther to the outside, creating the illusion that he was loading the big swing of a Dempsey Roll."
Liam lowers his eyes again, still struggling to accept the explanation. It makes perfect sense logically, yet it refuses to match what his mind insists on seeing.
"If that’s really what happened... then he must’ve done something to my brain. Or maybe that Gazelle Punch knocked a few brain cells out of my head."
He looks back at Roy with an exhausted smile. "Because even now... I still see him throwing a Dempsey Roll."
