Chapter 829

Wuyu County Special Investigation Headquarters, Conference Room.

On the table, Nango Yui began to explain to everyone about these five suspects.

After preliminary investigation and the "friendly voluntary cooperation" of the Public Security Police, the information of these five inexplicable middle-aged men was dug out. Five people.

Five names.

Five ages.

Five life stories that could almost seamlessly replace each other, almost copied and pasted.

The first one is called Tadabe Kemi, forty-one years old.

Unemployed.

Originally a site supervisor at a certain construction company, with an annual income of 4.2 million yen.

Three years ago, through a dating app, he met a woman who called herself "Sato Ai," dated for four months, during which he was continuously asked for money under the pretexts of "mother's illness needing surgery fees," "sister's tuition fees needing turnover," and "wanting to save money together to buy a house," totaling 4.8 million yen.

After the money was transferred, "Sato Ai" vanished from the human world.

He reported it to the police, who said it was a civil dispute and suggested finding a lawyer. He found a lawyer, who said the other party used a fake identity and could not be found. He quit his job, spent three months searching himself, found the social media account bound to the phone number used by that "Sato Ai," and discovered she had changed her name on the same app and continued dating other men.

He posted a message exposing her under that account, got blocked, was accused of sexual harassment, and the account was canceled.

After that, he never had a stable job again, relying on odd jobs and savings, which were exhausted two years ago.

The second one is Matsumoto Makoto, thirty-eight years old.

Unemployed.

Originally a bus driver at a certain company, with an annual income of 4.3 million yen.

Four years ago, on a certain dating website, he met "Tanaka Reiko," who claimed to be a kindergarten teacher, gentle and considerate, speaking softly, always wearing simple dresses in photos, standing in flower fields or libraries.

He thought he had finally met the right person.

After five months of dating, the other party, using the pretexts of "younger brother wanting to go to university" and "wanting to open a small coffee shop together," took his savings of 5.2 million yen.

Then she disappeared.

The following content is exactly the same: reported to the police, told it was a civil dispute not accepted, went to find a lawyer, couldn't afford it and had no evidence.

The third one is Murata Koji, thirty-six years old.

Unemployed.

Originally an assembly line worker at a Nagoya factory, with an annual income of 3.6 million yen.

He met that woman in a paid, so-called "real-name verified" high-end dating club.

The membership fee alone cost him 150,000 yen, but the club's slogan was "Here, there are no scammers, only sincerity." The woman claimed to be "Takahashi Mika," twenty-six years old, a cosmetics company counter salesperson, with delicate makeup in her photos, a bright smile, like a freshly picked peach. Her attitude toward him was different from others—not the formulaic politeness, but genuine concern, remembering every word he said, and when he worked late into the night, she would send messages saying "You've worked hard, remember to eat."

He thought he could finally get married.

In three months, he bought her branded bags, branded watches, branded necklaces, and, under various pretexts such as "mother hospitalized," "sister studying abroad," and "ex-boyfriend needing money to settle things," spent a total of 5.2 million yen. Of this, 2 million yen was borrowed from consumer finance, and he is still paying interest. She said she was going abroad on a business trip, and then never came back.

The subsequent discoveries were all the same.

The fourth one is Nakajima Isamu, forty-three years old.

Through a dating app, he met a woman, dated for a year, successfully proposed, gave a betrothal gift, held a wedding banquet, spending nearly 10 million yen—his entire savings plus the inheritance left by his parents.

Then that woman used fake identities from beginning to end, even the photos were stolen from some internet petite model.

Reported to the police, told it was a civil dispute not accepted, went to find a lawyer, couldn't afford it and had no evidence.

The fifth one is Ootake Masaru, thirty-nine years old.

Unemployed.

While living in a certain large single-occupancy apartment, he met a woman next door, who proactively knocked on his door and handed him a box of homemade cookies, smiling and saying "Please take care of me from now on." He thought this was fate's arrangement.

Three months later, she, using the pretext of "wanting to save money together to buy a house," had him hand over his bankbook and seal for "unified management." He gave her the bankbook and seal.

One week later, the 3.8 million yen in the account was entirely transferred out, she moved away, leaving not even a note. He went to the property management to check her lease, and found she was using a fake name, fake ID, and fake work certificate.

Reported to the police, the police finally discovered that in the past three years, at least seven men in that single-occupancy apartment had been scammed, but most of the men chose to move out rather than make a fuss.

As expected of Japanese people, this character of not wanting to trouble others……Uesugi Muneyuki looked at these five people's almost copied and pasted resumes, and closed his eyes.

Moreover, indeed, unlike women, men are unwilling to share such things.

And their common point is not merely the label "marriage scam, money scam."

Deeper things are hidden in the gaps of those stories—namely, they all come from out of town, none are Tokyo natives.

Tadabe Kemi is from Akita Prefecture, Matsumoto Makoto is from Aomori Prefecture, Murata Koji is from Fukushima Prefecture, Nakajima Isamu is from Niigata Prefecture, Ootake Masaru is from Wood Prefecture.

They all came to Tokyo in their early twenties, carrying the dream of "making it big in the capital," doing the most ordinary jobs, earning the most ordinary salaries, living in the most ordinary apartments, leading the most ordinary, day-in-day-out, endless office-drone lives as dispatched workers. Compared to the native Edo people of Tokyo, these few men from out of town and the countryside are relatively traditional, still very obsessed with marriage and having children. When they were in their early twenties, with good health and abundant energy, they could still endure and firmly believe they could change their fate through hard work, achieve transformation through accumulation, because their preceding generation of Japanese men succeeded this way.

However, the times have changed, sir.

Just like that guy who jumped onto the tram tracks and died, these five guys, no matter how hard they work, might still catch up to the "general male" standard in the eyes of Tokyo women, and moreover, these men who came up from the countryside to Tokyo often lack confidence, and in women's eyes also lack sexual charm. Not being Tokyo natives also means they need to rent housing, and their only confidence in what they can show off is savings and "Asahi." Naturally, it's sadly tragic that if you can only attract women with money, then the women you attract are those who are after your money, and coincidentally, these guys aren't that wealthy either.

So when they reached their early thirties, approaching the upper limit of Japanese men's marriage age, they began to panic one by one—those around them got married one by one, bought houses one by one, and posted pictures of their children on social media.

They also began to panic, started using dating apps, started paying membership fees, started transferring money to those women in the photos whom they had never met, started explosively spending gold coins on women who showed even a little interest, and when they finally managed to establish initial contact with the other party, they would also continue to explosively spend gold coins to maintain this contact, just hoping for stability, afraid they couldn't marry the other party, and when their gold coins were nearly exhausted, they also all waited until the other party disappeared before realizing they might have been scammed.

They all reported to the police after being scammed, and all received the same reply from the police: "This is a civil dispute, suggest finding a lawyer." They all did not hire lawyers to sue, at most just consulted, because hiring lawyers costs money, and their money had already been scammed away.

"Lawyers in Japan are not cheap; a general consultation starts at several thousand to ten thousand yen per hour." Nango Yui said, her mother is the gold medal lawyer at Nishimura Asahi Law Office, consultation starts at 50,000 yen per hour, and more can reach up to 300,000 yen.

Okada Masayoshi raised his eyebrows, he suddenly felt a stomachache.

"I know." Uesugi Muneyuki spread the five records on the table, like laying out five corpses for dissection.

His gaze swept from left to right over those messy handwriting, pausing at the end of each line—there was written the same word: "resentment."

"So this case is just a group of marriage-seeking men who had their gold coins exploded, resenting society, thus launching a retaliatory action, right?" Maeda Toshihide said casually. "No." Uesugi Muneyuki shook his head: "There's a problem."

"Is someone hiding?" Uesugi Muneyuki's question let the entire Special Investigation Headquarters fall silent.

"What does Chief Uesugi mean?" Date Nagamune's face looked a bit grim.

"Where is that woman called 'Mon'? Why is that woman missing?" Uesugi Muneyuki said in a deep voice: "Although these five people had similar processes, similar endings, and also shared goals and motives……but……who exactly gathered them together, organized them?"

"Finding this guy is the real key to cracking this case!" Uesugi Muneyuki slapped the table with his left hand: "Retry, reinvestigate!"

Emergency police affirmation