Chapter 465

Watanabe Eiji reported the matter completely to Okada Masahide, including the entire sequence of events, including Okada Miki and bartender Koizumi Ryosuke's long-term affair, including Kurozaki Ryūji's pile of rotten deeds and recognizing Miki, as well as the vague hints revealed during Uesugi Muneyuki's later interrogation, suggesting that someone may have disclosed the apartment's specific location and taught the hard-card door-opening method to Kurozaki Ryūji.

On the other end of the phone line, Okada Masahide's face showed veins bulging one moment and lips trembling the next.

It was truly my doing! It was truly my arranged media offensive and excessive exposure that led to the ex-boyfriend showing up at the door!

Me, harming Masayoshi?

No, perhaps this isn't even harm—now he's finally rid himself of that supermarket clerk, that time bomb isn't it? I'm doing this for his own good, I'm just the Financial Services Agency Commissioner earnestly convincing myself, his breathing slightly heavy, yet he maintained no significant expression on his face, keeping a calm and dignified demeanor, only an indescribable regret and lingering fear continually striking his chest.

"Commissioner? Commissioner, are you listening?" After a long silence with no reply, Watanabe Eiji tentatively asked: "Or do you have more constructive suggestions?"

"No, no, Watanabe Director, what opinion could I possibly have for you?"

On the other end of the phone, Okada Masahide's voice was no longer the previous coldness or tension, but carried a rare, almost "gentle" satisfaction. This "gentleness" on him was already the highest degree of approval.

"Watanabe Director." Okada Masahide spoke slowly, each word carrying heavy weight: "This incident, the Metropolitan Police Department responded—very appropriately. Especially at critical moments, able to withstand public opinion pressure, uphold scientific spirit, perceive the finest details, swiftly turn the situation around, ultimately not only capturing the true culprit, but also—preserving the reputation of the Metropolitan Police Department and—related personnel. This decisiveness and execution ability deserve high affirmation."

He particularly emphasized "scientific spirit" and "swiftly turning the situation," which was the greatest recognition of Watanabe's appointment of Uesugi Muneyuki to find people and his decisive shift upon hearing Kashiwagi Jin's judgment.

Watanabe Eiji felt a huge stone drop in his heart, quickly responding humbly: "Director overpraised me, this is merely my duty as a subordinate, also the result of collective effort by all colleagues in the Metropolitan Police Department, and more due to relying on Uesugi's professionalism."

"Merit is merit, no need for excessive humility." Okada Masahide interrupted him, tone though light, yet carrying undeniable affirmation. He paused, then shifted his words into a deeper meaning: "Watanabe-kun, in your position as Superintendent General, your achievements over these years have been seen by the Cabinet and all sides. Handling this complex and sensitive incident again proves your ability and loyalty. Someone like you who can bear heavy responsibilities and consider the bigger picture—what more can we say? If I were to evaluate you, that would be it."

"You handle affairs, I rest assured."

These words could not be clearer, Watanabe Eiji's heart violently pounded, he held his breath, only listening as Okada Masahide continued in that calm yet extremely powerful voice: "Regarding the matter you mentioned, I also believe it's not that simple—investigate, let Public Security investigate, perhaps we'll find out who is targeting me, please continue focusing on your current post, produce even better results, do not disappoint all sides' expectations."

"As for Masayoshi, let him rest for a while."

"Yes! Deeply grateful for the Director's trust and cultivation! This subordinate will surely bow and strive, not betray the trust!" Watanabe Eiji's voice trembled slightly from excitement, yet still maintained maximum restraint and respect,

"Hmm." Okada Masahide responded lightly, as if merely discussing a trivial matter, then immediately ended the call. But both ends of the phone line clearly understood, an important political transaction had already been reached.

Watanabe Eiji handled this matter too beautifully, even in Japan's officialdom known for extreme subtlety, clouds and mist, nine turns and eighteen bends, and riddle-speakers, Okada Masahide's attitude almost equated to openly stating he would fully support his further advancement.

After hanging up for a moment, Okada Masahide thought it over, then picked up the phone again.

"Adjust tonight's schedule———"

That night, University of Tokyo Hospital, VIP Ward.

Okada Masayoshi, Chief of the Special Mission Unit, lay on the bed, having just suffered a great blow, his words few, his body possibly recovering, but his soul's wounds far from healed.

Two Metropolitan Police Department security police stood at the door, obviously the Metropolitan Police Department could not allow Okada to come to harm again.

Okada lay alone on the bed, expression desolate, he had learned the full course of the case from Minami, the wound on his back ached, the wound in his heart ached more, although Miki had betrayed him, after all there were still some beautiful times in the past, but when he recalled those beautiful times, the pain of betrayal would overwhelm him.

He believed he had done nothing wrong, in the two and a half years since joining the Special Mission Unit, he alone had turned over various bonuses, benefits, overtime pay, various subsidies, plus money secretly given by his mother, amounting to a staggering 18 million.

Unexpectedly, Miki had stubbornly saved 10 million from that 18 million, using it to go to Europe for shopping sprees, wining and dining, keeping a bartender?

The train of time slowly passed over Sakuradamon.

The 30-year-old Okada Masayoshi lay there, his deep gaze lingering were his own shadow as a 25-year-old newlywed.

In this field, no one could compete with him for first place, not even Heath Ledger could only rank second.

"Hehe, hehehehehehe~hi~hihihihihi~" Okada Masayoshi burst into loud laughter, laughter mixed with tears, tears containing laughter.

Just then, the hospital room door suddenly opened, surrounded by two security police, one secretary, and one old butler, Okada Masahide appeared at the doorway.

Father, you came to see my joke, right?

Okada Masayoshi's heart was a mix of five flavors, yet he still forced himself to rise, standing opposite his father.

Everyone present tacitly withdrew, leaving only father and son facing each other.

In the vast, deathly silent VIP ward, only father and son remained, the long tea table pulled open creating physical and emotional distance, the atmosphere so silent it induced breathlessness, only the faint sounds of instruments and distant cars passing, ambulances.

No one spoke, boiling flames condensed in each father and son's chest, chest condensed, condensed Okada Masahide stood with hands behind his back gazing at his son, he looked at his son's cheeks grown much thinner, the shadows under his eyes not yet fully faded, and those eyes once sharp and bright, now沉澱 with too much pain and fatigue. A complex emotion—one by one heartache, regret,

and also a barely perceptible guilt—one by one surging in his hardened heart.

Finally, he sat down beside the tea table, skillfully brewing tea, his gaze not toward his son, but fixed on the ordinary tea leaves before him, as if speaking to the air, voice low and restrained: "You, have lost weight."

He paused, as if seeking a more suitable word, ultimately extremely difficult, almost indistinctly uttering: ". Also suffered injustice."

This sentence, spoken from Okada Masahide's mouth, already equated to the most direct apology and deepest heartache. He did not mention Miki's name even once, did not say "I had already told you," merely acknowledged his son's endured "bitterness" and "injustice."

Okada Masayoshi's hand suddenly stiffened, he lowered his head, eye sockets instantly heating up, father this extremely awkward, extremely indirect sentence, yet like a key, instantly unlocked all the accumulated bitterness and regret in his heart.

Yes, if initially he had listened to his father's words, if initially he had not so stubbornly believed in that illusory "warmth," would there not have been the later betrayal, framing, and this heart-rending pain?

He also lowered his head, voice equally low, carrying a hint of hoarseness: "Father, you—indeed well-informed and experienced."

This sentence equated to indirectly acknowledging his father's initial opposition was correct, acknowledging his own past choice was wrong.

The air again fell into silence, but no longer the cold breathlessness, instead filled with a heavy and complex emotional current.

After a long while, Watanabe Director suddenly sighed extremely slightly, voice so soft the son could hardly hear, he lifted the teapot on the table, poured his brewed tea into the teacup, then picked up the teacup, placed it before his son, then immediately rose, back turned to him: "Looking back, truly we've walked a long, long road."

"—" Okada Masayoshi silently lifted the teacup, blowing on the steam, he had not drunk his father's tea for how long? He could no longer remember.

"I began my political career in the Showa era, starting from a city council member, then prefectural assembly member, Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Finance, Cabinet Secretariat, then to Financial Services Agency Commissioner—this path, I personally witnessed and learned, and all along came through intimidation, deception, belittling, betraying others, the political arena is an extraordinarily bloody and cruel battlefield, at times flowery words, inverting black and white, at times no means spared, designing harm to others."

"History is just like this, always the ruthless triumphing over the incapable."

"Masayoshi, one who stands above others, necessarily nurtures evil spirits in the heart."

"Cultivate fists, evil spirits?" Okada Masayoshi's face turned ashen,

"Human nature's evil must necessarily be countered by necessary evil, every person's heart must harbor an evil spirit, we can refrain from actively harming others,

but we cannot lack it." Okada Masahide's graying temples faced Okada Masayoshi's face: "You've never dirtied your hands, young and smooth sailing all the way, those around you indulge you, flatter you, but in my view, you're like a little chick, still far short."

"If not born as Okada Masahide's son, you wouldn't have to suffer this, right?" Okada Masahide finally turned his head, directly gazing at his own son, face bearing a mocking smile.

"Absolutely not, Father—I may be your son, but choosing to save people was me, choosing to marry Miki was also me, these are my own choices, although the outcome was poor." Okada Masayoshi spoke low: "But if one does not reach out to act, how would one dirty one's hands?"

"Is that so?" Okada Masahide did not directly answer, he merely narrowed his eyes: "Then, the nation's hero, the detective wrongfully blamed, could you please pour me a cup of tea?"

"Yes!" Tears instantly filled Okada Masayoshi's eye sockets, he picked up the teapot on the table, rarely, actively, body slightly leaning forward, toward the father's still-empty teacup, slowly poured in some dark brown tea.

Okada Masahide watched the tea gradually fill the cup, then lifted his gaze to his son, his son's gaze still not fully meeting his, the Financial Services Agency Commissioner also still sideways, maintaining dignity, but that slightly trembling lip and somewhat stiff movement exposed his inner unrest.

Okada Masayoshi said nothing, he silently and solemnly extended both hands, steadily lifted that teacup, as if holding an extremely precious and fragile object, placed it before his father.

Okada Masahide did not drink immediately, merely slightly nodded his chin, using this gesture to indicate acceptance of this "gift."

Father and son, just like that, one turned sideways in silence, the other cradled the cup and lowered his head.

They looked at each other wordlessly.

Only after a long while did Okada Masahide speak with difficulty: "I will let you stay in the Special Mission Unit precisely because, after my investigation, Watanabe Minami, Uesugi Muneyuki, and the others are all decent people; working with them suits you well and is safe."

"Try to trust Watanabe Minami a bit more, consider and inquire about Uesugi Muneyuki's opinion during investigations—remember, remember."

"Yes."

Okada Masahide nodded, drained the tea in one gulp, turned, and left.

Okada Masayoshi watched his father's departing back, straining to restrain himself, frantically rubbing his face with his hands, eyes shut tight, gritting his teeth, finally unable to hold back, he choked out through sobs: "Eight ya!"

At the same time, Okada Masahide also stood alone in the corridor, his dignified eyes equally brimming with tears; after a long while, he finally spat out a sentence from his mouth.

"Eight———·ya!""