Chapter 412

Tokyo University Hospital, VIP Ward.

The late winter sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting fine grids of light on the polished floor, the scent of disinfectant mingling with the faint fragrance of get-well flowers, lingering in the spacious single room.

Okada Masayoshi lay prone on the hospital bed, his bare upper torso wrapped in thick bandages extending diagonally from beneath the swollen bone of his right shoulder to his left waist. The wound was not fatal, but the intense pain and weakness from blood loss left his face pallid, his lips cracked. The television was muted, the screen repeatedly replaying the news footage of the nationwide-shocking daycare attack: the Phantom Guest on a Yamaha motorcycle bursting through the daycare's main gate, shoving the female teacher to the ground in an attempt to seize the children as hostages, and a blurred yet resolute figure lunging at the knife-wielding assailant, using his own body to shield a trembling child.

That figure was him.

The camera zoomed in, freezing on his bloodstained uniform and, beneath it, the unharmed, wailing face of the child.

The headline blazed: "Metropolitan Police Department's Young Lion, Life at Stake to Save the Child!" (Metropolitan Police Department's young lion, fighting with his life to rescue the child!)

After the incident, Okada Masayoshi was unquestionably rushed to hospital by SAT first thing, Tokyo University Affiliated Hospital examined him and found he was fortunate,

though the blade had cut deep into the flesh, it had not damaged the spine or bone, and a few weeks' rest would suffice.

After emergency treatment staunched the bleeding and bandages were applied, Minami came, she visited Okada Masayoshi and played him the live broadcast of the interrogation regarding the "Ikebukuro Phantom Guest."

But not long after, Minami received a message, gesturing for her to step out to make a call.

And when Minami stepped out for just two minutes, the ward door was knocked on, the rhythm steady, carrying an undeniable air of authority.

The door opened.

Financial Services Agency Commissioner Okada Masahide stood in the doorway.

He wore a dark suit pressed so sharply not a single wrinkle marred it, his silver hair immaculate, his face cold and hard as if carved by knife and axe. Since the last time father and son met— that argument sparked by the "supermarket cashier" which ultimately led to a complete rupture— several full years had passed.

At this moment, the father's face held no warmth of reunion, only a near-rigid solemnity, and deep in his eyes a trace of something complex and hard to discern; his presence made the air in the ward instantly congeal.

Following behind him was his wife, Okada Seiko. Her well-maintained face was etched with worry and fatigue, her eye sockets red and swollen, her hands clenched tightly around an expensive box of sweets. Further back, two Financial Bureau Secretaries with respectful demeanors stood silently at the side, carrying luxurious fruit baskets and premium nutritional supplements, like precision instruments.

Okada Masayoshi did not turn his head.

He stared at the television screen showing his own blood-soaked image, his lips pressed into a pale straight line. The cold war between father and son, a wall of ice, had not melted even a fraction due to this nationwide "heroic deed"; on the contrary, this forced visit made it feel even more awkward.

What is he here for?

Is he here to mock me? Or to seize the moment to tell everyone I am his son?

"Masayoshi." Okada Masahide's voice was low and level, devoid of emotion, like reading an official document, he stepped inside, his leather shoes striking the floor with unusual clarity in the silent ward, his gaze sweeping over the bandages on his son's back, pausing half a second at the bleeding edge, then shifting away, finally settling on his son's bloodless face, carrying scrutiny and a hint of complexity.

"Masayoshi! Ah!" Okada Seiko hurried quickly to the bedside, her voice choked: "Masayoshi, my child, you have suffered" she set down the sweet box, wanting to reach out and stroke her son's hair, but under her husband's invisible pressure, her fingers curled back, she only gazed pained at the glaring bandages.

"Mother." Okada Masayoshi finally turned his face, to the commissioner's wife, his mother, he forced out a soothing arc, his voice hoarse from pain and weakness: "I'm fine, just a superficial injury, I'll be better soon."

He deliberately avoided his father's gaze.

But the father would not grant him that, Okada Masahide walked to the bedside and stood firm.

He did not sit, maintaining a looming posture. The secretaries immediately and silently placed the fruit basket and supplements on a nearby table, the gilded insignia on the packaging proclaiming their high value and distinguished origin.

"The Superintendent General called me, and so did Minami." Okada Masahide spoke, his tone strictly business, as if conveying superior orders: "Minami gave a detailed report of your condition. No nerve or bone damage, a fortunate misfortune."

He paused, his sharp gaze piercing toward his son, then began instinctively stern: "But your conduct was excessively reckless!"

"The value of the Career Track lies in intellect and command, not in a commoner's bravery!! Placing yourself in such peril is a grave waste of the nation's cultivated resources!"

These words were icy and inhuman, Lady Seiko sucked in a cold breath, tears welling again in her eyes, her lips moving as if to speak,

but halted by her husband's glance.

Okada Masayoshi closed his eyes, suppressing the fire in his chest and the sharp pain in his back. He reopened them, meeting his father's gaze, that eyes holding no anger, only a deep fatigue and unyielding resolve: "Father, at that moment that man was only ten centimeters from the throat of the girl named Kawabata Kohna! I was the only one on scene capable of stopping him! My duty is to stand between them and danger! This has nothing to do with whether I am a Career Track Superintendent or a Non-Career Track Patrol Officer."

Okada Masayoshi's voice was not loud, yet extraordinarily resolute: "If I could do it again, I would still lunge forward!"

Okada Masahide's brow twitched almost imperceptibly. He looked at his son's eyes holding that undeniable steadfastness, that stubbornness identical to when he insisted on applying to the Metropolitan Police Department, insisted on marrying that civilian woman.

A trace of extreme faintness, nearly imperceptible helplessness flashed across the Financial Services Agency Commissioner's face,

"Duty?" he let out a soft hum, his gaze sweeping over the corner where Minami Management Officer had bought his son's favorite coconut juice, then over the expensive supplements he himself had brought, finally settling on his son's face, coldly smiling: "Your 'sense of duty' always shows up in the most bewildering places.

For a."

He seemed to be weighing his words, ultimately choosing the most neutral, also the coldest: "What about that cashier? When you were injured,

where was she?"

The temperature in the ward plummeted.

Okada Masayoshi's face turned ashen.

Miki.. is currently traveling in Europe, possibly in Florence, Italy——-she hasn't been in touch these days, the last contact was still him asking her to send more money, she's gone on a frenzied shopping spree in Milan, the world's fashion capital, running out of funds.

"Father!" Masayoshi's voice suddenly rose, the agitation tugging at his wound, cold sweat beading his forehead, "She is my chosen life partner! As for those two children…""

He drew a breath, his eyes sharp as blades: "Their lives' value needs no standard to measure! Protecting them is the very meaning of me wearing this uniform! This and your understanding of 'value' may never align!"

"Masayoshi! Say less, you're still wounded!" Lady Seiko's voice trembled with urgency, nearly pleading as she looked at her son, then helplessly turned to her husband.

The father and son's eyes clashed fiercely in midair. One side entrenched in aristocratic prejudice and power logic, the other defending personal choice and professional conviction with solitary courage. The cold war born of marriage, causing the father-son rift, even now showed no sign of weakening or healing.

Okada Masahide's face grew ever darker,

He watched his son's face grow paler from agitation and pain, watched the stubbornness in his eyes that he could never comprehend. On the television screen, the silent footage replayed him lunging at the youth, using his body to shield the child, the moment the blade struck his back— that motion, carrying a sacrificial resolve.

The Financial Services Agency Commissioner's Adam's apple rolled once. As a father, seeing his son in such a gruesome scene could not leave him unmoved, but as the Financial Services Agency Commissioner known for strict coldness, his son's conduct had earned him immense political prestige and public favor, an indisputable fact.

Moreover, though this is an unfilial son, though their relationship is poor, this is still his only son!

This complex emotion surged in his chest, ultimately amounting only to a colder command: "Rest well. Do not disappoint the Metropolitan Police Department and the people's expectations."

The Financial Services Agency Commissioner turned his back, no longer looking at his son, instructing the secretaries: "Leave the supplements, contact the hospital, use the best medicine,

ensure his swift recovery."

Having spoken, he strode straight toward the door, his steps still steady and strong, but that upright back now exuded an ineffable rigidity and a hint of defeated flight.

"Dearest!" Lady Seiko cried out anxiously to her husband, then turned back, heart aching as she looked at her son, torn between two choices.

"Mother, you go back with Father." Masayoshi lay back on the pillow again, his voice exhausted to the extreme, he closed his eyes, "I'm tired."

Lady Seiko looked at her son's tightly shut eyes beneath thick lashes, then at her husband's retreating figure outside the door, she could only let out a deep sigh, quickly following after.

Masahide would absolutely never allow that cashier into our family's home!

Sorry, Masayoshi, but I feel the same!

She gently placed that exquisite sweet box in the most conspicuous spot on her son's bedside table— his favorite sachima from Gui Shun Zhai, made with real dog's milk and honey.

In the hospital room, only the low hum of the heating remained, and Okada Masayoshi lay motionless, face down. The wound on his back throbbed in waves from the recent agitation,

a smear of spreading red on the bandage, like the unhealable wound in his heart. The nation's praise surged in like a tide, yet it could not warm the icy river between father and son, nor could it soothe his wife's absence.

He suddenly felt utterly alone.

"In this world, everyone is lonely, isn't he?" Okada Masayoshi gave a bitter smile and buried his head into the pillow.

Far away in Europe, his wife Okada Miki, whose radiant smile resembled Sakai Noriko's, appeared in his mind's eye. He had indeed been somewhat impulsive back then, and as a result, he had become the greatest stain and disgrace in his father's eyes.

At the same time, Okada Masahide strode out of the hospital ward, his body radiating icy anger, his steps faster than when he had arrived, as if he wished to escape that suffocating atmosphere.

His wife, Lady Kiyoko, followed behind with worried steps, while two secretary officials maintained a professional distance, closely trailing them.

Just as he turned the corner of the hallway, a pair of golden boy and jade girl walked straight toward him.

They were Special Mission Unit Management Officer Watanabe Minami and Special Mission Unit Forensic Examiner Uesugi Muneyuki!

Behind them followed all the other members of the Special Mission Unit, except for Ishihara Mikoto and Date Nagamune!

The Young Lady Minami immediately recognized this prominent figure often seen in financial news headlines. She halted her steps at once, stood at attention, and rendered a sharp, standard salute to Okada Masahide,

"Yes, Commissioner!" Watanabe Management Officer said, her voice deep and steady,

Okada Masahide's steps also came to a stop. The anger and rigidity on his face were instantly replaced by a deeper, more fitting stern dignity befitting his status. He gave a slight chin nod, his gaze sweeping over the two like a tangible force, especially when he saw the badge on Watanabe Minami's police uniform representing the Metropolitan Police Department and her police rank insignia—his eyes then held an additional layer of indescribable complexity.

He spoke slowly, his voice low and steady, carrying an undeniable aura of authority, yet compared to just moments ago in the hospital room, it held less chill and more solemnity.

"You have both worked hard." His opening remark was very formal, his gaze first falling on the management officer, "Watanabe Management Officer."

Then he turned to Uesugi Muneyuki, squeezing out a faint smile.

"And there is, the renowned Forensic Examiner Uesugi?"