Chapter 1019

When the door of the Cabinet Secretariat Commissioner's office was pushed open, Watanabe Eiji saw Onoda Kimiaki stand up from behind the desk. Onoda's glasses were crooked on the bridge of his nose, his tie was loosened a bit, and he clutched a freshly printed summary of foreign media reports in his hand.

"Our omnipotent Commissioner Watanabe, I ask you, why didn't you send Uesugi!? How did things come to this?!" Onoda, the Chief Cabinet Secretary, said angrily and with a hint of sarcasm, also using the two words "kisama kisama."

Speaking of which, it's quite funny: "kisama" was a term of respect before the Edo period, but during the Edo period, the shogunate banned profanity, yet humans have an inherent need to insult, so the common folk in Edo began using "kisama," a term of respect, to express anger and insult, thus its meaning became like "you brat" or "you bastard," similar in effect to words like "wise," "crouching dragon phoenix chick," "oddball," and "grateful."

Watanabe Eiji did not answer immediately.

He walked over and sat down in the chair opposite the desk, his movements steady, his expression composed. He and Onoda, the Chief Cabinet Secretary, had known each other for many years, and he knew when to speak and when to let the other vent first.

Onoda Kimiaki is already dead, Watanabe Eiji now has unparalleled control over the Japanese police, and Uesugi Muneyuki listens only to him and Minami, so it is destined that Onoda Kimiaki can only raise his hands high and then gently lower them.

Sure enough, Onoda Kimiaki slapped the summary onto the desk and continued to scold: "AP, Reuters, AFP, TASS, Old Chinese Media—all are reporting: 'Japanese police investigation hits a deadlock,' 'Foreign worker screening draws international attention,' 'UN Human Rights High Commissioner's Office expresses concern.' Do you know how many calls the Foreign Ministry received today from foreign embassies? Do you know the Korean Foreign Ministry has already summoned our ambassador in Seoul several times for questioning?"

"Damn Koreans and Tang Dynasty shopkeepers, why are they fixated on this report?!"

"I know." Watanabe Eiji comforted: "Chief Cabinet Secretary, things have come to this, and nobody likes it."

"You know that, yet you still held Uesugi in Okinawa for three whole days?!" Onoda Kimiaki's voice rose a notch, but he quickly lowered it again, knowing the walls of this office are thin and a secretary might pass by in the hallway at any moment: "Headquarters Chief Shimada can't hold out in Nagoya; they've gone four days without a breakthrough there. Now all external pressure is focused on that young police inspector in Aichi Prefecture, while our ace—the one in all of Japan most skilled at cracking this kind of case—is in Okinawa handling a civil case where his ex-wife grows cannabis! Commissioner Watanabe, what on earth are you thinking?" Watanabe Eiji fell silent for a few seconds. His fingers lightly tapped twice on his knee, then he lifted his head and met Onoda Kimiaki's gaze with calm eyes.

"Chief Cabinet Secretary, you may not know this, but let me put it this way: Hirate Sarina can be a placard girl on the variety show 'Hand of God,' can make a cameo in the 'Hand of God' TV drama, all because Tangqian Yang recommended it, and this is something Uesugi himself told me." "What?!" Onoda Kimiaki could never have imagined this would be the answer.

After all, he himself is a busy Cabinet Secretariat Commissioner; he indeed has had the chance to watch 'Hand of God,' but he truly does not know that much about internal entertainment industry affairs.

Because the entertainment industry is not worthy, especially idols, not worthy!

Shirakawa Mai is about the same.

"Your son-in-law, Chief Cabinet Secretary, you know this." Watanabe Eiji went on: "If Uesugi went to Nagoya, given his style, he would turn this case upside down. He doesn't care whom he offends; he's already proved this with the Park Yoo-chun case. But if he follows the trail upward from Hirate, all the way to Tangqian Yang and his connection to this matter, then the fire will burn to Nagatacho."

"That son-in-law of mine, Chief Cabinet Secretary, you know him."

Onoda Kimiaki stood there, looking at Watanabe Eiji.

Indeed, Uesugi Muneyuki is exactly that kind of person, and such people are indeed disliked by the establishment.

However, as previously stated, the establishment needs this kind of "specialized talent."

You can arrange for balls, you can suppress in various ways, you can prevent some people from being selected for the national team roster, you can only pick those who are obedient, compliant, and willing to stuff red envelopes to play.

But no matter what, no matter how much you boast internally about being far ahead, you ultimately have to go abroad to compete with others, you have to actually take the field and play, you truly have to go and clash with whatever Blue Warriors, Taiji Tigers, Persian Iron Cavalry, or Kangaroo Legion.

Therefore, such specialized talent cannot be lacking; the police system ultimately needs someone to solve cases.

"Everyone makes mistakes." Watanabe Eiji continued: "The relationship between Tangqian Yang and Hirate, if it's merely a personal life issue, then it falls under personal morality. But if you let Uesugi investigate, he will turn this from 'personal morality' into a 'criminal case,' and then drag the entire Tangqian family into the mire of public opinion. By then, how will the media report? 'Son of a political heavyweight suspected of covering up a murder case'? 'Ruling party General Affairs closely related to the deceased'? This is not just a case issue; this is a trust crisis for all of Nagatacho." Onoda Kimiaki fell silent.

He slowly sat back in his chair, pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, reached out and took the crumpled summary he had slapped, and smoothed it out bit by bit with his palm. "……You're right." After a long while, the Chief Cabinet Secretary finally spoke, his voice much lower than before: "Indeed, we cannot set this precedent just because of one murder case. When the private lives of political figures are amplified to the political level, once this starts, there is no end. Today it's Tangqian, tomorrow it could be you and me."

"If we investigate Nagatacho Diet members just because of personal private life and moral issues, this, in principle, can be done, but in practice, cannot!"

Don't look at Tangqian Masamichi and him being political rivals, but in this matter, everyone's interests are highly aligned.

He lifted his head to look at Watanabe Eiji: "Then let's give Nagoya a bit more time."

Watanabe Eiji nodded slightly.

Between the two of them, no more words were needed; they both understood this is a judgment about timing.

If Nagase Ren can hold out and solve the case on his own, then everything will be digested within Aichi Prefecture, Tangqian Yang won't surface, and Nagatacho won't have an earthquake.

If Nagase Ren cannot hold out, then let him bear the responsibility of 'investigative direction error,' and transfer him out.

Dragging the case until public opinion cools down, then entering a long-term unsolved state, the Tangqian family will be safe, the Aichi Prefecture Police Headquarters will save face, and the Cabinet will not be affected.

"As for Uesugi, I need a suitable moment." Watanabe Eiji said: "If Nagase Ren truly cannot hold out or if circumstances change, I will have Uesugi take over. But the choice of that moment must be made by me."

Onoda Kimiaki glanced at him and nodded: "I understand."

Meanwhile, in Nagoya, things have also seen new developments.

Headquarters Chief Shimada put down the phone.

The other end of the phone was Director General Kamishiro of the Metropolitan Police Department.

This phone call was obviously unknown to both the Chief Cabinet Secretary and Watanabe Eiji, but rather Kamishiro Souichirou privately called a comrade in the Public Security Division, and Director General Kamishiro said on the phone: "Currently no substantive progress? Mr. Tangqian also expressed dissatisfaction with investigative efficiency. Political pressure, you understand, just follow normal procedure."

Shimada Masahide swallowed a mouthful of saliva, knowing what following normal procedure means.

Let someone take the fall, admit the direction was wrong, change personnel in charge to reduce police force, lower exposure and external attention, then make big things small and small things smaller, finally issue a report to conclude, transforming it into a long-term case, which is actually already giving up.

But what could he say?

He's just a tiny local headquarters chief!!

Thus, at the internal meeting convened at four in the afternoon, Headquarters Chief Shimada officially announced the reduction of the Special Investigations Unit's scale.

His wording was steady and businesslike: "Considering the preliminary screening work has already been completed, the visitation and monitoring analysis of major areas has already been covered, and the search severely affects social production and public order, the Special Investigations Unit will adjust personnel from the current four hundred or so to about one hundred based on actual needs. Remaining personnel will focus on in-depth analysis of existing leads."

No one raised an objection.

The transferred officers left the office area one after another, desks were cleared, chairs returned to their places, and parts of the map and photos on the whiteboard were taken down, rolled up, and filed away.

The entire Special Investigations Unit transformed from a crowded command center into a relatively spacious office within two hours.

Nagase Ren sat at his own workstation, looking at the empty desks, saying nothing.

He understood what this meant: the headquarters decided to reduce investment, shifting resources from all-out case-solving to maintaining basic operations.

If there is still no breakthrough five days from now, this "reduction" will be written into the report as evidence of "despite massive resource investment, still unable to make progress."

And now it is already the evening of the fourth day.

"Nagase-kun, come here for a moment?" Headquarters Chief Shimada called him into the office.

This time, the headquarters chief's tone was much calmer, carrying a kind of elder-to-younger heartfelt advice: "Nagase, I today rejected your application to re-investigate Tangqian Yang."

"Headquarters Chief?" Nagase Ren felt disappointed by this result, but not surprised.

"Nagase-kun, I'm doing this for your own good!"

Headquarters Chief Shimada sat behind the desk, hands crossed on the desktop: "The reason is, we currently have no evidence to support further investigation of him. If we push forward forcibly, not only will we get no results, but we will also invite unnecessary political attention. You understand my meaning? Even if I am a headquarters chief, in front of that Esteemed One, I am no different from you! Just an ordinary civil servant!"

Nagase Ren stood in front of the desk, silent.

Headquarters Chief Shimada paused, as if giving him time to digest, then continued: "But if, I say if, you still have no breakthrough tomorrow, I think it would be better for you to proactively admit 'initial investigative direction contains judgmental error, possibly omitting or delaying the normal case investigation.' This is an internal handling phrasing, not involving charges of dereliction or malfeasance."

"I've fought for you, at most it's just a lateral transfer, to Shikoku or Kyushu, rank retained, salary unchanged. Five years later, you can still reapply for promotion exams." He looked into Nagase Ren's eyes: "This is not punishment. This is an exit everyone can accept." "I'm doing this for your own good! Nagase-kun, think about it!" Headquarters Chief Shimada said gently: "You've worked hard, I don't blame you, just your bad luck."

"Headquarters Chief?!" Nagase Ren repeated once more, this time in astonishment.

"Ren Nagase! I'm really doing this for your own good! Look, I gave you the resources you wanted, I approved the investigation you wanted, I even brought Tangqian Yang, the first secretary, here for you despite the pressure, and you've also questioned the members of Akai Saka!" Shimada Motonobu immediately said impatiently: "What else do you want?"

Ren Nagase stood in place, silent for a long time,

Finally he said softly: "I know now."

Then he turned and walked out of the office.

Shimada Motonobu watched Ren Nagase's back, let out a sigh.

Someone has to take responsibility for this matter—if you won't step up, he won't step up, does that mean I have to? I'm about to retire!!

I'm sorry to put you through this, Ren Nagase!

On the other side, Ren Nagase returned to his workstation, sat down. There were far fewer people in the office area than before, the empty chairs making the space feel especially quiet.

He turned on the computer screen, aimlessly flipping through today's news.

Then he saw two photos.

The first one was of himself.

It was taken when he passed the professional group exam three years ago, wearing that brand-new police uniform, standing in front of the Police Agency building, young, spirited, his eyes flashing with light.

In the photo, he was holding an acceptance notice in one hand, the other pointing at the sky, mouth wide open as if shouting something. He remembered that day he was shouting: "Serve the People!"

The second photo was of Hirate Sarina's parents.

They held a press conference in front of the Aichi Prefecture Police Headquarters building, the mother wearing black clothes, hair disheveled, eyes red and swollen to the point she could barely open them.

Hirate's father stood beside her, one hand supporting her shoulder, the other holding a photo of Hirate.

In the footage, the mother's knees slowly bent, lowering her to kneel on the waterproof cement floor, her forehead pressed against the ground.

The father followed suit and knelt down as well.

"Hirate Sarina's parents kneel, begging the police to solve the case quickly."

The young professional group superintendent knew this situation might never come to pass.

He naturally knew what would happen next if he followed the department chief's demand—he would voluntarily take the fall, accept punishment, be transferred, admit the initial investigation direction was wrong, and later the police would say we might have been able to do something back then, but by the time he accepted, it was already too late, and this case would gradually be forgotten, because big figures don't allow it, nor does the system.

Uesugi Muneyuki won't come.

Ren Nagase stared at the two photos, his mind filled with two voices—the first was Shimada Motonobu saying "I'm also doing this for your own good," the second was his younger self, just after passing the exam, shouting "Serve the People."

The first version of himself was weary and helpless, humiliated yet obedient.

The second version of himself radiated brilliance, heroic spirit soaring to the clouds, youthful ambition hot-blooded and surging.

He reached out and turned off the computer screen, then lowered his head, burying his face in his two palms.

In that moment, he felt something deeper than fatigue welling up from his chest—it was shame, it was disappointment, it was the outside world's painful rebuke of him, the collapse of all his relationships and the destruction of his limitless bright future, it was the pain and despair of his parents seeing him, once used as capital for boasting, now ruined.

He could choose to agree with Shimada Motonobu's demand, and he also knew the other side would give him a chance to make a comeback in five years—according to regulations, professional group officers automatically get promoted to superintendent after seven years.

But he was still disappointed.

He understood why Tangqian Yang couldn't be investigated, why Shimada wanted to reduce police forces, why Watanabe Eiji wouldn't send Uesugi Muneyuki to Nagoya.

Because everyone was protecting something greater—something more important than truth, more important than justice, more important than a dead girl and parents kneeling on the ground.

That thing is nearly impossible to shake—you have me in you and I have you in you, upper and lower united as one solid iron plate.

He's just an ordinary professional group officer—even Shimada Motonobu can't fight against this thing—how could he possibly resist it?

But if Uesugi Muneyuki had to come investigate personally? If the situation forced even all of Nagoya, even all of Nagatacho, into chaos? Ren Nagase put down his hand, lifted his head, looked at the photo of himself when he first became a police officer, reminisced about that former self, closed his eyes. Back then it was April, and the cherry blossoms at Sakuradamon were truly beautiful!

He slowly stood up, picked up his phone, glanced at the time—less than twenty-eight hours remained until the fifth-day deadline.

Let's go home for a bit!