Chapter 640

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The crystal chandelier at the entrance of the Peony Hall of the Imperial Hotel shimmered with flowing light, casting a subtle glow on the deep gold carpet's restrained bamboo sparrow patterns.

Uesugi Hironori stood slightly behind his father Uesugi Kuninori, gripping a guest list with a gilt-edged cover, his palms already slick with fine sweat.

Though not the groom, as the father of the bridegroom, he had to stand in the reception line to accept congratulations.

At first, he merely bowed mechanically, returned greetings, and recited formulaic pleasantries, until those names and titles struck his ears one after another, did he gradually realize what astonishing energy vortex this list represented.

In fact, as a socialite on the fringes of high society responsible for matchmaking, Uesugi Hironori knew something of such matters, yet even so, the other party's displayed attitude still left him shaken.

Chief Cabinet Secretary Onoda Kimiaki arrived first, this political core figure often seen in the news, his steps steady; after a brief exchange with Professor Uesugi Kuninori, his gaze fell upon Uesugi Hironori, and he proactively extended his hand: "Director Uesugi, long admired. Your son Sōsetsu's judicial autopsy report in the Imperial Residence case—minister's son car bombing case—was so clear in its reasoning and powerful in its argumentation that even the Prime Minister's Office had specially retrieved it for study; my younger brother, serving as Director General in the Police Agency, holds Sōsetsu in the highest esteem. Today, a perfect match—congratulations!"

Uesugi Hironori, flattered beyond measure, bowed and shook hands, nearly at a loss for words: "You, you overpraise him—Sōsetsu is still young, thank you for your recognition—"

Before he finished speaking, National Public Safety Commission Chairman Nanko Taro arrived. This titan who held nationwide police authority patted Hironori's shoulder, his voice booming: "Hironori-kun, you've raised a fine son! Inspector Sōsetsu is our Metropolitan Police Department's—no, the entire Japanese police system's ace. In several major cases, it was he who delivered the decisive blow; as a newcomer to the chairmanship, I will rely heavily on his cooperation in the future! Please!"

"All along, my son has been cared for by Inspector Sōsetsu, especially in Masayoshi's case—truly—I am deeply grateful!" Vice Minister of Finance Okada Masahide even proactively bowed in thanks: "I have only this one son, Masayoshi; to attend this wedding feast fills me with dread!"

Uesugi Hironori could only bow repeatedly, his heart pounding wildly.

Indeed, the Police Agency's Special Mission Unit lived up to the rumors—truly the elite among elites, the fast track in police circles whispered about! Turns out so many people's sons were scrambling to get in, just to be "cared for" by my son and daughter-in-law?

Next came Tokyo University Principal Maeda Toshisuke, Minister of Justice Yuzō Setouchi, and Vice Minister of Justice Kai Mineaki—

These names, usually seen only at the top of financial news and political sections, now appeared in person, their words earnest; besides offering congratulations, they all mentioned: "My son/daughter in the Special Mission Unit (or related investigative department) has been looked after by your son/daughter," "Thanks to Inspector Sōsetsu's critical appraisal in such-and-such case," "Vice Minister Minami's guidance was exemplary," and so on.

Uesugi Hironori's smile nearly froze, his brain buzzing.

He generally knew his son held a special status in the Police Agency as a key figure in solving cases, but never imagined this "professional ability" could act like a magnet, drawing in such a vast and high-end invisible network of connections. These political and financial magnates, sending their heirs or promising offspring into the Police Agency for gilding—especially into the Special Mission Unit led by Vice Minister Minami and technically supported by Inspector Sōsetsu—undoubtedly represented the safest and most efficient path to "achieving merit" and "building networks." And his own son and daughter-in-law, unbeknownst to him, had become one of the "examiners" and "protectors" for these future magnates.

But it wasn't over yet!

When Mitsui Sumitomo Group Executive Director Sato Kozo, Mitsui Real Estate Director Igarashi Masataka, Fujitsu Director Odagiri, and Mitsubishi UFJ Bank South Village Managing Director and other financial titans offered congratulations in similar tones, Uesugi Hironori felt his worldview tremble slightly.

Having operated the Cultural Exchange Hall for years, mingling only with cultural figures, foreign envoys, or mid-level corporate staff, when had he ever encountered so many true masters of Japan's economic lifelines, so warmly congratulating him, their words inside and out revealing attention to—and even reliance on—the individual "Uesugi Sōsetsu"?

He glanced sideways at his father beside him.

Uesugi Kuninori still maintained proper composure and distance, his conversation with each guest brief yet bearing scholarly grace, but Hironori caught a fleeting, nearly imperceptible, complex glint in his father's eye corner—there lay surprise, evaluation, perhaps even a hint of—resignation? As if some uncertain expectation had been vastly exceeded.

"Tokyo University Principal Hamada has arrived"

"Medical Department Head Funato has arrived"

The arrival of academic grand masters added another layer of halo.

They praised Sōsetsu as "the pride of the Tokyo University Medical Department's Forensic Science Division," "the future leader of Japan's forensic science," their tone full of cultivation and expectation.

In a daze, Uesugi Hironori felt his son seemed no longer merely "the second son of the Uesugi family," but an independent, energy-startling nexus linking the core circles of police, politics, finance, and academia.

While mechanically handling socialities, his inner self churned: awed at having become a temporary relay point for this terrifying energy; proud that this energy sprang from his own bloodline; and deeply feeling that his past efforts—conducted cautiously in his father's shadow, leveraging the family name—compared to his son's network forged through genuine skill and achievement, were like a stream beside a great river. He again felt that familiar, shame-tinged helplessness, but this time, it was more a near-dizzying, yet honored, shock.

Just as Uesugi Hironori felt he might drown in this ceaseless torrent of VIP congratulations, he unintentionally lifted his eyes, catching sight, not far off, by a corridor pillar, of Uesugi Sōsetsu, already changed into a black-patterned formal kimono and hakama, waiting to enter.

Uesugi Sōsetsu had clearly been standing there awhile. He did not step forward, merely gazing silently at his father's side, where guests gathered like clouds and nobles surrounded.

When his father's eyes met his, Sōsetsu's face showed little expression, only a barely perceptible, almost imperceptible lift of the brow, then the corner of his mouth twitched into a fleeting arc, somewhere between sarcasm and realization.

He mouthed, silently to his father, a phrase.

Uesugi Hironori took a full two seconds to decipher the lip movement's meaning.

The phrase was: "Congratulations, Dad—you can now call yourself emperor!"

Black humor, like an ice pick, instantly pierced through Hironori's churning dread and pride, bringing a shudder of clarity.

He nearly choked on his own saliva, hastily averted his gaze, cheeks burning.

This brat! Actually, at such a moment, using this near-treasonous joke to tease the absurd yet real "power homage" scene before him.

Yet precisely this joke pulled Uesugi Hironori slightly free from that dizzy feeling. He refocused on the smiling face of a certain cartel director before him, and a strange insight flickered in his heart: yes, this seemingly splendid affair, at its core, was merely a precise social dance based on interest exchange and risk avoidance. His son saw through it, so he could stay calm, even find it a bit laughable.

And himself—perhaps he need not be so fearful or smug.

As Sōsetsu said, he is his father's son, and that is enough.

He drew a deep breath, straightened his actually not-so-broad chest, and offered the next congratulatory guest a smile far more natural than before—a smile belonging to "Uesugi Sōsetsu's father."

In the Peony Hall, melodic music swelled, signaling the ceremony's imminent start.

The Uesugi bamboo sparrow pattern silently extended beneath the steps of countless nobles, while the flow of personal ties and the undercurrents of power, at this moment of splendid appearance, silently streamed beneath.

Every person entering must pass through a decorative arch modeled after a classical screen, and undergo a final identity check by "reception staff" who wore smiles but had piercing eyes. Everything proceeded silently and efficiently.

Plainclothes Public Security Police mingled among service staff and guests, their gaze like radar, constantly scanning the venue, noting any minute discord. Air vents, flowerpot bases, decorative interiors—all possible hiding spots for danger had been repeatedly swept.

This was an invisible yet absolutely tight net.

Uesugi Kuninori and Watanabe Eiji stood respectively at one side of the hall, receiving congratulations from important guests; Grandfather Uesugi Kuninori spoke briefly, maintaining scholarly aloofness and the head of the house's distance.

Watanabe Eiji, meanwhile, appeared more at ease, chatting and laughing, treating each guest's arrival as another confirmation and strengthening of his network.

The Uesugi bamboo sparrow pattern shimmered silently in the light, awaiting the couple about to enter.

Outside the Imperial Hotel, Tokyo's sky was azure and clear. The Imperial Palace's forest lay in tranquil stillness, as if also witnessing this wedding interwoven with ancient surnames, modern power, hidden worries, and tight guard.

The banquet was about to begin, and all forces ensuring its smooth progress had already been silently drawn taut to the limit.

At that moment, the second floor of the Imperial Hotel.

At the end of the Imperial Hotel second floor's "Jade Corridor" stood a 24-hour convenience store. Daily, it supplied hotel guests with emergency items, simple meals, and drinks. Amid the wedding's tense atmosphere, this convenience store became an inconspicuous energy replenishment station for off-duty police security personnel or those who had completed morning surveillance but not yet eaten breakfast.

At 10:45 a. m., with the wedding ceremony about to begin, the convenience store felt somewhat crowded.

Four or five men in plain clothes, yet with sturdy builds and sharp eyes, stood between shelves or beside the cash register, quickly dealing with rice balls, sandwiches, and canned coffee.

They spoke softly, with joy, also with tension and focus.

Just then, the convenience store entrance's automatic door slid open with a "shush."

A slender, tall youth in ill-fitting Western attire, nervous expression and slightly sneaky demeanor, an Indian national, darted inside.

He quickly scanned the store: only a few office-worker-looking men in Western clothes buying things, the cashier a frail middle-aged woman.

The Indian man's heart hardened; he suddenly drew a pistol from his waist, shouting in heavily accented Japanese: "Don't move! Hand over the money! The money in the cash register! Take it all out! Quick!"

Then he pulled from his waist a gun-shaped object, pointed it viciously at the cashier's head: "Don't make me say it a second time, I—"

However, the reaction of the middle-aged female cashier opposite him made him feel very strange.

You, you are not afraid of me?