Chapter 641

The Indian man was quite flustered.

His name is Raj Singh, he came to Japan three years ago, his visa has long expired, and he survives by doing black-market work at construction sites and occasional petty theft.

Foreigners make up only 2% of Japan's population, of whom 75%-80% are Korean and Chinese, and the rest are mostly Southeast Asians.

In recent years Japan has also tried to bring in some Indians, but the results were poor, and aside from those in the Confucian cultural sphere, it is also difficult for anyone to adapt to Japanese social atmosphere.

But if we don't bring in immigrants, what else can we do?

Japan even specially set up several "Malaysia classes", spending a year teaching them Japanese language and Japanese social culture, and in the end, only about twenty to thirty percent could integrate into Japanese society.

This Indian is the same.

Recently he was pressured for debt by an underground lending organization, with nowhere to turn, he believed an unreliable "suggestion" from a drinking buddy: the convenience store in the Imperial Hotel, because customers are either rich or noble, the cash reserve in the register might be substantial, and security "should focus more on the big picture and not notice such small corners."

Indeed, because the attention of the Imperial Hotel and the police is entirely on the banquet venue and various passages, this part not involving the wedding venue the Metropolitan Police Department does not pay much attention to, so it was easy for him to sneak in.

He waved his handgun, the muzzle pointed at the cashier, and threateningly swept over those few "office workers" who were eating.

According to his impoverished criminal imagination, at this moment the cashier should scream, customers should shrink back, he should smoothly grab the money and then escape.

However, time seemed to freeze for a second.

Then, a scene occurred that he—and indeed most ordinary criminals in their lifetimes—could never comprehend.

Those four or five "office workers" who were having breakfast stopped in perfect unison.

Their faces showed no fear, only a disturbed, nearly impatient sternness. Almost simultaneously, they tossed away the food and drink in their hands (a rice ball even precisely landed in the nearby trash can), and their right hands flashed into their pockets or under their arms.

The next second, Raj found himself being aimed at by at least five pitch-black gun barrels, obviously far more professional and superior than what he held, steadily fixed on his head.

Moreover, he saw several tiny red dots of light, unknown from where they came, flickering on his face and chest, eventually converging densely on his brow, both eyes, and heart—those were the red dots of laser sights.

In the quiet background noise of the convenience store, only the weak "gurgle-gurgle" of the oden pot, and Raj's own teeth chattering "click-click" could be heard.

A middle-aged man nearest him, who looked like a team leader, with one hand pointing his gun at him, and with the other hand pressing a hidden miniature microphone on his collar, spoke in a tone as flat as reporting the weather: "Convenience store, minor incident. A man with an imitation gun attempted robbery, already controlled. Suspected lone perpetrator, no signs of other accomplices. Over."

Then he turned to Raj, and in flat Japanese said: "Put the gun on the ground, fingers away from the trigger guard.

Raise both hands above your head, slowly kneel down."

Raj's brain was completely blank, excessive fear even robbing him of the ability to think.

He "clang" threw the imitation pistol to the ground, hands raised high, flopped down on his knees, unconsciously muttering a prayer in Indian, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"Vishnu! Protect your people!"

Two public security police quickly approached, one kicked the broken gun aside with a foot, the other swiftly handcuffed Raj behind his back and quickly searched him from head to toe.

The whole process took less than twenty seconds, silent, efficient, nearly ruthless professionalism.

"Toy." The police checking the gun snorted, handing the rough imitation gun to the leader: "Probably bought from some street stall, look, it seems mainly used for lighting fires."

The leader took it, glanced at it, and into the microphone said: "Threat neutralized. Weapon is a poor imitation. Suspect detained, handed over for further processing. Suggest no impact on main proceedings."

Raj was swiftly dragged away from the convenience store, via the employee passage to the temporary detention point behind the hotel, throughout not even drawing attention from guests a few steps away on the main corridor. For this grand wedding, this was nothing but a speck of dust, insignificant and instantly erased.

However, just opposite the convenience store, across the atrium glass, on the second floor of another annex building's café, a young man wearing black-rimmed glasses, student-like, with a thin notebook computer before him, gently pushed up his glasses, closed a certain hidden surveillance screen sharing stream on the screen.

He is exactly the leader of the "Sakikawa Restoration Army", Sato Liang, a fourth-year student in the Faculty of Social Sciences at Waseda University.

Beside him sat two companions similarly dressed as students.

"Did you see that?" Sato Liang's voice was soft, carrying a hint of barely perceptible frustration and more calm: "From that idiot pulling out a toy gun, to being aimed at by five real guns, laser-locked, and taken away, only twenty-three seconds. And the handling was silent as if nothing happened. Public security personnel are everywhere, reaction speed is top-notch."

A companion muttered lowly: "Damn, security is too tight. Even a fly can't fly in and cause a stir."

"Reconnaissance is necessary." Sato Liang closed his computer: "We originally expected Watanabe Eiji's daughter and Uesugi Muneyuki's wedding to be an iron barrel formation. But we didn't expect it to be this tight—even convenience stores, these peripheral spots, have at least one public security team permanently stationed, and fully armed, highly alert. Our previously prepared plans to create chaos and distribute flyers" have success rates approaching zero.

"Then————just let it go like this? This is a rare opportunity, so many big shots are present————" another companion unwilling: "Who still has spare funds?"

"Damn, if Ōsumikawa were still here!" a companion also unwilling: "If we still had explosives————"

Blow you up!

"Opportunity?" Sato Liang sneered: "That's a death sentence. Our goal is to expose systemic corruption, spread ideas, not let core members go give public security performance points. That Indian idiot already proved with his stupidity the outcome of forced entry. Abandon the original plan."

He stood up, put the notebook into his backpack: "Notify all teams, act according to backup plan C: record today all important license plates and personal images entering and exiting the hotel, especially those low-key political and financial figures. Analyze their interaction network. The wedding itself we cannot touch, but the relationship network exposed by this grand event" perhaps has more research value than a chaotic attack.

He finally glanced at the opposite, gilded and magnificent yet hiding countless watchful eyes Imperial Hotel main building, a flash of complex emotion in his eyes—one of wariness toward the tight system, one of resentment over frustrated action, but more the cold calculation of a planner.

"Let's go. True 'revolution' is not in a moment's clamor."

"What about that guy?" someone asked, he is still a student.

"Just an Indian bum, he's not one of us, nor a united front target, this is a necessary sacrifice, we will remember his contribution to our cause."

The three like ordinary students, settled the bill and left the café, blending into the gradually increasing crowd on the streets outside the hotel. The Imperial Hotel's prosperity and the security's sternness remain as before, that failed convenience store robbery, like a small stone dropped into a deep pool, ripples not yet spread, already swallowed by the unfathomable waters, not even reaching the ears of the newlyweds Uesugi Muneyuki and Watanabe Minami.

Only, on a certain surveillance log in the hotel's underground temporary command center, quietly recorded: "10:47, annex convenience store, unidentified Indian male with imitation weapon intending robbery, detained on the spot by on-duty public security personnel. Transferred to the district office for handling. Assessment: isolated low-threat event, no related clues." Followed by a set of simple handling personnel codes.

Sunlight poured through the great glass dome, falling on the guests in their finest attire in the Peony Hall, the wedding march sounded solemnly.

Everything seemed perfect and flawless.

At this moment, another heavyweight guest arrived.

When the Head of the Kantou Shinai Alliance, national-level actress Shirakawa Mai appeared at the Peony Hall entrance, the entire banquet hall seemed to be under a silence spell, even the air stagnated for an instant.

She did not appear in the usual celebrity finery, but wore an extremely solemn and formal "twelve-layered" robe.

The outermost "Tang robe" is a graded "layered colors"—from outside to inside, from the symbol of purity and divinity "moe yellow" gradually transitioning to the inner "suō" and "crimson" faintly visible, as if simultaneously draped with morning and evening glow.

At the layered collars, extremely fine gold thread embroidered Shinto cloud patterns and tiny platycodon flowers.

Shirakawa Mai's long black hair not fully bound, part flowing like a waterfall behind her, on her head she wore the exquisite "heavenly crown" and "sun-shadow vine", the jeweled strands hanging before her forehead swaying slightly with her steps, reflecting and enhancing that face praised as "Divine Mandate Countenance".

Shirakawa Mai's beauty, already perfected on screen, in person before the eyes adds an indescribable, blending sacred solemnity and heart-stirring allure.

Skin like congealed fresh snow, under the layers of splendid attire nearly translucent; eyes clear as high mountain lakes, eye corners slightly upturned, naturally a segment of noble yet lively charm; nose bridge straight, lip shape perfect, unadorned yet vermilion.

She merely stood there quietly, her whole person seeming to have a halo flowing, making all surrounding luxurious decorations and splendidly dressed guests pale in comparison. In her hand she held a bouquet of extremely plain white lilies and light purple platycodon, all the more unworldly.

After the brief silence, came countless suppressed exclamations and camera shutter sounds.

The guests, especially those elderly male political and business figures, couldn't help but glance sideways. This woman, only twenty-six years old, yet commanding the important Kantou Shinai Alliance and simultaneously occupying the top seat of national actress, her influence and mysterious charm have long surpassed ordinary bounds.

She walked with composure, as if strolling along the sacred approach path before the shrine, straight toward today's protagonists—Uesugi Muneyuki and Watanabe Minami.

The moment Uesugi saw her, his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly, a mixture of deep appreciation, a trace of old warmth, and complex meaning within.

Shirakawa Mai and Watanabe Minami, inside and outside to each other—Mai Xuejie is not only his inner world companion, but also the only one who truly understands him completely.

If Mai Xuejie had not intended to leave too many traces in the outer world, Minami would not have easily secured the position of wife.

He gave a slight nod: "Hakubi Shusseki, thank you for gracing us with your presence—I am deeply honored." He used a highly formal, respectful address befitting her priestly status.

Watanabe Minami Ojou-sama stood beside Uesugi Muneyuki, her face adorned with the perfect bride's smile, flawless.

But when Shirakawa Mai drew near, her spine imperceptibly straightened a little more, the hand gripping Uesugi Muneyuki's arm tightening slightly as she gazed upon this radiant woman who shared a private bond with her husband; her emotions were not jealousy, but a complex blend of pride, vigilance, and a subtle sense of superiority.

She tacitly accepted Mai's existence, even to a certain extent "arranging" its presence and boundaries—trading a star lover who could never marry into a wealthy family for the other party's absolute recognition and support of her status as principal wife, a deal she deemed worthwhile.

At this moment, beholding this National Goddess preside over her wedding with such sacred solemnity, Minami felt a near-cruel satisfaction rise in her heart: though you may be peerlessly radiant and adored by ten thousand, must you not also stand here now, personally blessing my marriage? And in the forthcoming "Three-Three-Nine Degree" rite, you must personally present the divine sake to me!

Hey, Side Chamber Ama! Remember to serve tea to this Omitaidokoro later, with a tooth-click!

Shirakawa Mai's gaze first fell upon Muneyuki's face; in the depths of her clear eyes, a fleeting, meteor-like tenderness and wistfulness passed—understood only by them.

Then she turned to Minami, her smile flawless, like that of a shrine maiden perfected through countless rehearsals before the divine—holy and warm.

"Minami-chan, Junior Student!" Her voice rang clear and pleasant, carrying a unique, soothing rhythm: "Today, the two of you unite in marriage—truly a heaven-made match, a blessed bond ordained by heaven.

I, in representation of the Kantou Shinai Alliance, offer you my sincere blessings, praying the deities protect you, that your marriage be harmonious, your household prosperous, and your future bright as brocade."

Her words conformed to all norms of a Shinto presiding officiant's ceremony—solemn and beautiful.

Yet as she gently placed that special bouquet upon the ceremony stand, her fingertips brushed almost imperceptibly across Uesugi Muneyuki's hand—so swift it seemed like an illusion.

At the same time, she lifted her eyes once more to Minami, speaking in a volume barely audible to the three nearby, slightly breathy: "Minami-chan, you look truly beautiful today. This white pure kimono suits you well. The dignity and splendor of a daimyo's principal wife—you, ah, are wholly worthy of it."

Though her words sounded like blessings and praise, to Minami they felt like a formal "demotion decree."

She restrained herself with a slight nod, her smile deepening: "Thank you, Hakubi Shusseki, for your kind words. In the future, I hope you will often come to visit."

The phrase "often come to visit" in her words carried clear boundaries—it was both an invitation and a demarcation of limits.

Shirakawa Mai's smile deepened further, her expression holding a lucid awareness of all things, even a faint hint of mischievousness.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to near a whisper as she told the two: "Today's wedding banquet, I have specially prepared a program." And also—"the surprise after sending you into the bridal chamber tonight"—I have also contributed my modest share, prepared a small gift, hoping you will like it.

Her gaze lingered on Muneyuki's face for an instant, her eyes shifting, meaning implied: "Muneyuki-kun, be sure to enjoy yourself."

This strongly suggestive remark made Muneyuki's ears grow faintly warm, though he did not know what Mai Xuejie was plotting, yet his composure remained unchanged.

Minami's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly, then returned to normal, even carrying a hint of playfulness and anticipation as she wondered what tricks this "diligent senior" might play to "curry favor" with the newlyweds.

"Thank you for your trouble." Minami responded gracefully, her tone leaving no doubt about her authoritative stance.

The ceremony was about to begin; Shirakawa Mai gracefully withdrew to the presiding officiant's position.

In the instant she turned, the wide sleeves of her resplendent twelve-layered kimono brushed the air, raising a faint fragrance mingling incense with some cold, floral breath. Her smile remained perfectly pure and holy, as if the earlier conversation laden with hidden edges and warmth had never occurred.

Guests saw only the National Goddess personally presiding over this much-anticipated couple's wedding, offering sacred blessings—truly an added glory, a fine tale.

Only the three at the vortex's center knew that beneath this solemn, beautiful ceremony surged what private, subtle, and mutually understood undercurrents.

Watanabe Minami Ojou-sama linked arms with Uesugi Muneyuki, facing the divine shrine, her inner pride as principal wife growing ever fuller.

Shirakawa Mai lowered her eyes, began to chant the prayers in a clear, pleasant voice, her posture flawless—yet in the unseen depths of her sleeve, her fingertips lightly pinched the embroidered small bellflower on the inner lining.

Uesugi Muneyuki gazed ahead at the divine presence before him, feeling his wife's hand beside him exert slight pressure, and that unignorable gaze from not far away, carrying complex warmth, his heart filled with a near-absurd clarity.

The shrine bell rang lightly, the ceremony officially began.

Shirakawa Mai's voice sounded like heavenly music, echoing through the Divine Palace, temporarily veiling all private feelings, calculations, compromises, and expectations beneath the sacred prayer.

The great wedding ceremony, officially began!

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