Chapter 794: The Dilemma of Youth

In early June in Tokyo, the air already carried a hint of early summer humidity.

Ishihara Mikoto stood before the mirror, holding two lipsticks, hesitating for a full three minutes; she knew in her heart that Uesugi Muneyuki's easy agreement was never free.

Last night, in Uesugi's annex, she had changed into the flesh-toned lace-edged suspenders and OL professional attire he specified, bound herself, put on the blindfold, and he had tossed and turned with her until the early hours, never letting her stockinged feet touch the ground; in the end, she was held by him before the window, thoroughly satisfied. That she could stand here now relied entirely on the willpower of "not losing face before my natal family."

I will eventually be played to death by him!

Ishihara Mikoto looked resentfully at her reflection in the mirror, thinking she had originally been the elder sister, but now she was completely conquered by her younger brother, not only taking on his form but also filling her mind with thoughts of bearing him a child.

But there was nothing she could do; Uesugi Muneyuki was just like that.

She had thought Uesugi Muneyuki would frown and say something like "handle it discreetly."

Instead, after hearing her, he merely smiled and said, "The Imperial Hotel, I've had a table reserved." Ishihara Mikoto felt the stone in her heart drop at that moment, but she also knew what it meant—last night, when he had bound her wrists and had her kneel on the bed, he had pinched her chin and said, "Your aunt is coming to Tokyo; I'll treat her. What will you use to thank me?"

What could she use to thank him? What she could offer, he had already taken entirely.

Facing the mirror, she finally chose the cool-toned mountain peanut color nail polish. Her hair was pulled up, revealing a section of glowing white nape. On her earlobes hung a pair of small pearl earrings, a birthday gift from Uesugi Muneyuki last year.

The dress was misty blue, the silk fabric clinging to her body's curves, the neckline opening just right, the waist cinched to a slender grip. She bent down, took out the pair of black RV suede high-heeled shoes from the deepest part of the shoe cabinet, sat down, and slowly slipped on the ultra-thin black glossy back-seamed sheer stockings, aligning the seam with her fingertips and smoothing every wrinkle.

The small foot wrapped in black stockings slid into the high-heeled shoe, the instep forming a beautiful arc, the calf extending from the hem of the skirt, slender and straight. Mikoto stood up, finally glancing once more at the mirror.

The woman in the mirror had a straight waist and back, a composed expression, and in her eyes a serenity that said, "I am of the Uesugi family"—yet when those eyes lifted slightly, the corners twitched upward, revealing what seemed like a deep pool of shimmering water within.

This was not deliberate allure; it was a fox-like charm grown from the bone.

But today, beneath that fox-like charm lay a layer of satiated weariness, like a flower drenched in rain, blooming heavily.

Mikoto's gait was half a beat slower than usual, not from lack of confidence, but because her inner thighs still felt a faint soreness.

Yet that gait lent her an indescribable languid allure, and combined with her mere 157 cm height, her every movement resembled a cat just pulled from a warm blanket—each action soft and replete, as if fully fed and watered.

Ishihara Mikoto blinked at her reflection in the mirror; the dignified face suddenly broke into a smile—triumphant, playful, with a hint of mischief. This is what I chose myself!

I chose Muneyuki, not Muneyuki choosing me!

Victory!

In the banquet hall of the Tokyo Imperial Hotel, Mikoto's aunt and younger male cousin had already arrived.

When Ishihara Mikoto walked in holding his arm, her aunt, Pharmacist Maruko Mie, brightened slightly—with that look of "my niece has latched onto a big shot."

The younger male cousin, Pharmacist Maruko Kenta, sat beside her, twenty-seven or twenty-eight, wearing glasses, thin and somewhat listless, but his eyes still lively. He had secretly glanced at Uesugi Muneyuki several times, probably not expecting the godlike detective on TV to be even more handsome in person. Uesugi Muneyuki wore a deep navy suit, no tie, the top button of his shirt undone, making him appear less sharp than during investigations and more like a scion of a noble family at ease.

Mikoto's aunt appeared to be around fifty; it was evident her household lived comfortably, at least moderately prosperous, as her husband supposedly worked in South America—in places like Bolivia, Brazil, and Uruguay—handling foreign trade, while she herself worked at a certain enterprise in Osaka, making their dual-income household income quite considerable.

After the greetings, dishes were served one after another.

The set meal at the Imperial Hotel was exquisite beyond words, each dish like a work of art.

Pharmacist Maruko Mie ate with restraint, but her chopsticks never stopped, praising Mikoto's good fortune between bites.

Ishihara Mikoto maintained her composure, but the small pride in her heart was about to overflow—she had secretly glanced at Uesugi Muneyuki, who was chatting with her aunt about Gunma's weather and hot springs, his tone gentle, attitude respectful, exactly what a qualified son-in-law should be.

Meanwhile, her aunt spoke in a thick Kansai-Osaka accent: "Mikoto, I really am something now—Tokyo Imperial Hotel, we country folk never imagined we'd get to eat at a place like this."

"Actually, the Imperial Hotel is pretty much just that," Uesugi Muneyuki said, smiling gently.

Finding Uesugi Muneyuki easy to talk to, after three rounds of drinks, Mikoto's younger male cousin Kenta gradually spoke more, drinking and drinking until he began to vent, speaking and speaking until his Osaka accent slipped out.

"Brother-in-law," he said smoothly, "let me tell you, I've really been—ah, never mind, it's been a torment to the point of desperation." Uesugi Muneyuki set down his wine cup, looking at him with interest.

Kenta counted on his fingers: "When I just graduated university, I absolutely refused to work, thought society too scary, school was better, so I went for graduate school. Took two years to get in, my mom almost nagged me to death—oh, it's our mom, she calls every day saying, 'Look at other people's kids, already working and earning money, while you're still studying, what are you even studying for?'"

Pharmacist Maruko Mie nodded along beside him like pounding garlic: "Am I right or not? That's exactly it!"

As previously mentioned, Japanese higher education is expensive, meaning only such dual-income middle-class families can afford to fully support a child's pursuit of studies. "Graduate school was even harder." Pharmacist Maruko Kenta wore a bitter face: "My advisor pushed for the thesis, I worked part-time in the lab with no copper coins, while all my classmates got jobs and earned money, I was still here mooching off my parents. I thought, this miserable life isn't any better than getting a job. At least with a job, you clock out when you're done, no need to stay up thinking about experimental data."

Uesugi Muneyuki nodded: "So you went to work after finishing graduate school?"

"Exactly!" Pharmacist Maruko Kenta slapped his thigh: "I absolutely refuse to get a doctorate, I'd rather die than do it. I want to work, I want to earn money, I want to be a person above others. The result? I joined a trading company in Osaka called 'Kinki Trading,' doing overseas sales—sounds like old eggs, right? Actually, it's just daily Excel reports, sending emails to clients, drinking with superiors. What does the company do? It imports hardware tools from Germany across the sea, then resells them to building materials markets all over Japan."

"Our daily work is checking container lists, wrangling with German factories, handling customer complaints. A batch of screws had threads messed up, the German side refused returns, Japanese customers called every day to curse, my monthly take-home pay was 220,000 yen, after deducting tax and insurance, paying rent and utilities, what little copper remained couldn't even cover treating a girl to a decent meal."

Pharmacist Maruko Mie interjected beside him: "Their supervisor is vicious to the point of desperation, yelling at people every day. Kenta once worked overtime until eleven at night, the subway's last train had left, so he had to take a taxi back, paying the fare himself from his pocket. After a month, his take-home pay wasn't much, but he'd lost ten kilos." "So I still think school is better." Kenta said this with a complex expression, like he'd swallowed half a blue fly: "I went through hell and high water to get into a doctorate, now I've been studying for a year—brother-in-law, you're from Tokyo University, you know what doctoral life is like, right?"

Uesugi Muneyuki nodded: "I know."

Ishihara Mikoto rolled her eyes beside him.

This guy knows jack shit!!

Uesugi Muneyuki's doctorate at Tokyo University was literally the state of being a person above others, because his forensic ability……meant no professor or associate professor felt capable of guiding him, let alone assigning him work, and most of his time was spent at the Metropolitan Police Department, with many thesis projects done by him personally.

Likewise, no one dared to mark his doctoral thesis wrong, and his thesis topic and argumentation were very easy—all based on real cases, real dissections, real conclusions.

"That I am an experienced one!" Pharmacist Maruko Kenta exclaimed, nearly jumping up: "During this year of doctorate, I've been in the lab every morning at eight, leaving at eleven at night, six days a week."

"My advisor is an industry big shot, but big shots don't take students, they dump you on a soon-to-retire associate professor. The associate professor himself is about to retire, who cares if you live or die? I did a year of experiments, all the data unusable, the advisor said my direction was wrong, I had to start over. Start over! One year wasted!" He raised his wine cup and drained it in one gulp: "Every day I think, why did I quit my job? Why didn't I just keep that job? Getting yelled at by a supervisor is fine—at least you clock out when done. Now it's bad—half past three in the morning I'm woken by the advisor's email to revise the thesis, weekends I still have to go to academic societies to present, after presenting I'm questioned by a bunch of old-timers until I doubt my life. Watching peers my age buy houses and cars, I'm still eating at the student cafeteria."

"The cafeteria's gotten old already." Pharmacist Maruko Mie added, her expression serious as if giving testimony.

Ishihara Mikoto laughed until she doubled over, the dignified guise completely gone, her eyes crinkling into crescents as the pearl earrings swayed by her ears. She laughed while patting Uesugi Muneyuki's arm: "Listen, listen, what is this kid Kenta saying! He's already in pretty good shape! His family can support him through years of dropping out, university, graduate school, doctorate! And he's still not satisfied!"

Uesugi Muneyuki also smiled, his smile restrained, but the amusement in his eyes was genuine.

He looked at Kenta and said: "So what is your current thinking?"

Pharmacist Maruko Kenta thought for a long while, then forced out an answer in an even thicker Osaka accent: "My conclusion is just—wanting to study when working, wanting to work when studying, how can that be done? Either way, it's death! This kind of life, don't live it!"

The three words "how can that be done" were drawn out long, carrying that distinctive Osaka humorous tone, and the whole private room burst into laughter.

Pharmacist Maruko Mie laughed while slapping the table, still muttering: "This little red-haired fool, studying has made him stupid, his words are hilarious."

After the laughter gradually subsided, Uesugi Muneyuki raised his wine cup, took a light sip, and said: "Actually, the problem you mentioned isn't yours."

Pharmacist Maruko Kenta lifted his head, looking at him. "The current employment system, the closed-off and cutthroat academic world—young people lack the lifetime employment security of the older generation, and also lack sufficient flexibility to trial and error. Stuck in the middle, unable to rise or fall. You spent two years preparing for graduate school, regretted graduate school, wanted to escape work, doubted life in doctorate—this isn't just you, it's your whole generation."

This is also the general predicament of Japan's current youth—who is born wanting to lie flat? Who in youth doesn't have some grand ambition?

But reality is cruel; aside from Uesugi Muneyuki, whose ability is genuinely outstanding plus environment and luck—without which rising is impossible—most young people often don't know what they can do or what they should do.

Those passions and ambitions are quickly worn down by high-pressure work environments and the seniority system.

When the times favor, all forces unite; when luck departs, heroes are not free.

This is why the lie-flat trend has spread in Japan—after all, whether one strives or not, everyone ends up pretty much the same; having lain down, one might as well relax.

And compared to that, Korea is completely different. Among the three East Asian countries, Japan trends toward lying down, other countries trend toward winning, but Korea trends toward the "losing ideology": elite high school rejection = loss.

Not admitted to SKY (Seoul National, Korea, Yonsei Universities) = loss.

SKY graduate but not entering a chaebol (Samsung, Hyundai, LG, etc.) = loss.

Entered a chaebol but not assigned to a core department or Seoul headquarters = loss.

Even if working in Seoul in a core department, still not as good as the chaebol family's youngest son = loss.

The chaebol family's youngest son faces the privileged white-skinned foreigner rich second generation's vibrant, free life = loss.

Koreans lose every day; society almost only recognizes one success template: "prestigious school-chaebol-Gangnam District, Seoul."

Any choice deviating from this path, even if economically self-sufficient and spiritually free, will be seen by mainstream society as "failure" or "downgrade"; cram schools stay open late, plastic surgery becomes a common investment, yet deep down people generally feel they are "already on the road to losing"—this is a pessimistic realism under extreme over-competition and anxiety-ization.

Under this extreme over-competition and anxiety-ization, it's no wonder iced Americano is Koreans' favorite—it wakes you up in the morning, numbs you during breaks, and energizes you when pulling all-nighters. Now there's even a 2L extra-large cup of iced Americano, one cup can last all day. In this logic, there are no "winners," only those who "lose less" or "haven't lost yet."

Japan at least can still lie down, but for Koreans, every stage of "success" merely means entering the next round of even more brutal competition, while the risk of failure keeps piling up.

That's why Koreans' birth rate has sunk to second-lowest in the world—a super profit-taking nation, to the point that Koreans themselves don't want their children to suffer alongside them in losing, from "three abandons" (abandoning love, marriage, childbearing) to "five abandons" (adding interpersonal relations, home buying) to "complete abandonment," this is the ultimate rebellion against the "losing ideology"—since everything is losing anyway, better to abandon the "competition" itself, and certainly not plan to let children join this "doomed to fail" competition cycle.

After hearing Uesugi Muneyuki's description, Kenta fell silent for a few seconds, his eye sockets slightly red, but he held it in.

He raised his wine cup and toasted Uesugi Muneyuki: "Brother-in-law, I've remembered these words."

Pharmacist Maruhui also stopped smiling beside him, giving Uesugi Muneyuki a sincere bow: "Mr. Uesugi, Kenta is immature; please take care of him."

"No need for thanks, Aunt." Uesugi Muneyuki slightly bowed: "Kenta is working hard, he just hasn't found the right path for himself. Take it slow, don't rush. As for other matters, let's wait until he finishes his doctorate." Uesugi Muneyuki smiled: "Saying too much now is useless." Shiihara Mikoto watched this scene from the side, a sudden surge of indescribable emotion rising in her chest.

She watched Uesugi Muneyuki's profile, watched him speak seriously to his younger male cousin, watched the arc of his long fingers as he raised the wine cup—this man, last night he was pinching her chin to make her call him "brother," today he sits properly here, hosting her family like a qualified husband. She lowered her head, the corners of her mouth curved, the jade foot clad in black stockings and high heels under the table lifted slightly, using the toe to gently brush his calf. This time, Uesugi Muneyuki did not merely tap the table in response. His hand slid down from the table, beneath the tablecloth, and gently grasped her ankle—his hand warm, his thumb slowly rubbing her ankle bone.

Shiihara Mikoto's face flushed slightly, but she said nothing, only raised her wine cup and took a small sip.

When the banquet ended, Pharmacist Maruhui took Shiihara Mikoto's hand, her eye sockets slightly wet: "Mikoto, I must be well. Mr. Uesugi is quite kind; I must cherish him."

Shiihara Mikoto nodded slightly, saying nothing.

Cherish? Of course she cherishes him—so much that she's willing to have her wrists bound, eyes blindfolded, tormented until after midnight, just to hear him say one "good." On the ride back, Shiihara Mikoto leaned against the seatback, kicked off her high heels, her black-stockinged feet curled on the seat, she turned her head to look at Uesugi Muneyuki, her eyes bright and shining.

"Thank you today." Mikoto felt moved: "Actually, you didn't need to come in person; Aunt just wanted… wanted to see how I'm doing? And incidentally, see if you could help Kenta a bit…"

Uesugi Muneyuki gripped the steering wheel, gazing ahead, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, imitating an Osaka accent, speaking in a nasal, drawn-out tone: "Your aunt is a fine person, your younger male cousin is quite interesting, I understand, I don't need to worry."

"Mm." Shiihara Mikoto rested her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, the base of her legs still faintly sore, the marks from the rope on her wrists not yet faded, but she felt it was worth it.

This man willing to spend time, thought, and face to entertain her family—then what's her spending a bit of something else?

Outside the car window, Tokyo's nightscape receded at high speed, neon light streaming through the window, casting alternating light and shadow across her face. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the person beside her, the corners of her mouth curving.

In this lifetime, probably no one will ever be able to make her like this again—being a scholar, a fox spirit, a lover, and also……

She faintly felt a strange sensation.

This period of nurturing seems to have a sense of blossoming and bearing fruit.