Chapter 839: , Delusional Minami! (6000-word double chapter!)

PS: I hit a wall, so I just wrote it all in one go—let me keep thinking and work out the next case.

The first one to arrive was Saito Asuka.

Asuka wore a white Peter Pan collar shirt, layered with a pink short-knit cardigan, and a light grey pleated mini skirt that revealed a slender calf wrapped in white lace tights. Her soft, smooth skin was encased in thick, off-white velvet tights, the fine knit resembling sweet cream ice cream—so tempting you just want to take a bite.

On her feet were black round-toe Mary Jane shoes with a thin strap across the vamp, low heels that tapped rhythmically against the floor with a crisp "pat-pat" sound.

Asuka's hair was tied into two low ponytails, one on each side of her shoulders, with her bangs pinned to one side by a strawberry hair clip, revealing a smooth forehead and those large, round eyes. She looked like a sweet, huggable doll stepped straight out of a shoujo manga—so cute you just want to squeeze her.

But the moment she spoke, the spell broke.

"Nacchi!!!" she shouted, locking eyes with Nanase Yamada in the corner the second she walked in. Her little shoes went "pat-pat-pat" as she dashed over, threw her arms around Yamada's shoulders, and leaned in until her face was less than ten centimeters away, eyes crinkling into crescent moons: "Why are you hiding in the corner again? This spot's closest to the door—are you running because you sense something's off?"

Yamada Nanase flinched back under Asuka's intensity, her back hitting the sofa armrest, face slightly flushed: "Asuka-chan, I didn't…" "Didn't what?" Asuka tilted her head, relentless: "You weren't hiding in the corner? Then why are you sitting here? This spot lets you see every exit—did becoming a cop give you occupational habits? Officer Yamada, report your tactical position!" Nanase couldn't help but laugh, the blush spreading from her cheeks to her ears. She wanted to argue, opened her mouth, then closed it—realizing she had no defense. She just liked sitting in the corner. It was a habit. She couldn't change it.

Next came Erika Ikuta.

When Erika Ikuta walked in from the doorway, the entire room's aura seemed to expand around her height.

She stood about 160 cm tall, sweet and cute with a hint of German seriousness, wearing a white men's shirt with two buttons undone at the collar, revealing her collarbone and a tanned patch of skin, plus a subtle rise and fall like the Harz Mountains—though not as impressive as Eri Rena's Alps, it at least proved she was a woman.

Slightly stronger than Asuka, Uesugi Sōsetsu thought to himself.

The shirt's hem was tucked into a pair of black high-waisted straight trousers, a thin black belt cinched at the waist, and her feet were in black Chelsea boots, polished to a shine.

Over it, she wore a dark grey wool long coat with a masculine cut—straight, rigid shoulders—but on her, it had an indescribable air of effortless chic.

She didn't look like she came to a celebration party; she looked like she'd stepped out of a Berlin jazz club—carrying that cool, warm, contradictory European actress aura—but her smile and outfit clashed completely.

When Erika Ikuta smiled, her whole face lit up: eyes narrowed into lines, mouth stretched to her ears, revealing two rows of even white teeth. Her smile had no celebrity distance or reserve—just pure, warm, "so glad to see you" energy, like fresh bread pulled from the oven, soft and steaming.

She strode over, left arm wrapping around Nanase Yamada's shoulders, right around Asuka's, pulling both into a tight hug so strong it felt like she wanted to crush them into her bones.

"Nacchi! Asuka-chan!" her voice rang out like autumn morning sunlight: "Come on, give Ikura a smile! Sing a song! Do well, and Grandpa'll buy you drinks!"

"Moo~" Asuka made a face of disgust and turned her head away.

Nanase Yamada, clearly unused to this kind of teasing, blushed and lowered her gaze, revealing a shy, water-lily-like bashfulness. Thinking about how Ikuta had supported her lately—how she'd even gotten into the Special Investigations Division because of it—she could only whisper: "Um… what should I sing?" "Let's start with 'Uniform Model'!" Ikuta said, pounding her chest like an old man, then squeezing both girls: "Next, 'Want to Take a Detour Home'! Sing loud and proud—Grandpa's got plenty of prize money!"

What's with this Yoshiwara style? Uesugi Sōsetsu, Date Chūsō, and Maeda Toshihide glanced at each other, couldn't help but laugh and shake their heads.

Yamada Nanase, sandwiched under Ikuta's arm, face burning red, let out a tiny, animal-like whimper: "Nn."

Asuka reacted faster, reaching to pry Ikuta's arm loose, but after two tries, it didn't budge. She just had to endure it, muttering under her breath: "Erika-chan, go easy… you're gonna mess up my hair…"

Ikuta didn't care—left arm around Nanase, right around Asuka, chin resting on top of both their heads, she scanned the room and let out a satisfied, nasal "hmm."

The pose was like a domineering CEO embracing left and right, her expression like a little girl who just got candy—two completely opposite energies coexisting strangely in her.

She wore those Chelsea boots, not much taller than Nanase or Asuka, but standing there, she looked like a painting: a tall, handsome, domineering CEO hugging two small, cute little sisters—so harmonious you just wanted to snap a photo.

Masayoshi Okada walked past, glanced at the trio, and said flatly: "Miss Ikuta, you look like you've abducted two respectable young women."

Ikuta turned to him, smile unchanged, and said firmly: "Abducted? So what? I snatched them fair and square! This time, I'm the one who helped out."

"Moo~ What's it got to do with me!" Asuka struggled wildly, head bobbing like a bird's, but couldn't escape Ikuta's big hands.

Okada didn't respond, just walked off holding his drink.

At that moment, Mai Shirakawa arrived.

Her entrance was unlike anyone else's—not "walking in," but "descending."

The moment the door opened, the entire room's lighting shifted in tone.

Mai wore a black velvet blazer with sharp, knife-cut shoulder lines, underneath a true silk camisole with a neckline opened just right, revealing a collarbone so delicate it looked unreal.

Her bottom was a pair of black high-waisted nine-inch wide-leg trousers, the crease razor-straight, stretching her legs to a despairingly perfect proportion.

On her feet: black pointed-toe stilettos with heels estimated at ten centimeters, a thin metal chain decorating the vamp, catching the light with a subtle gleam.

Her makeup was that "looks natural but actually took an hour" high-end nude look.

The base was so sheer you could see the skin's texture, brows and eyes not overdone, lipstick a bold, full-coverage retro red, hair falling over her shoulders—each strand meticulously styled, every wave in place, her dark brown hair catching the light like fine silk.

What drew the most attention? Her legs.

Wrapped in black silk stockings, her long, smooth legs caught the light with a fine, near-satin sheen—not cheap shine, but a deep, inner-light glow from within the fibers.

Her ankles were so slender they seemed barely graspable, the boot straps fastened at the ankle, metal buckles reflecting light like two tiny medals. Standing there, the room fell silent for a moment—not forced, but as if everyone's gaze was sucked in at once, even breath slowing half a beat.

White that glows, black that shines!

Between the extremes of black and white lies the image of a refined, slightly mature working woman—national idol Mai Shirakawa.

Her gaze swept the room, locking precisely onto Sōsetsu Uesugi in the corner.

She gave a small smile—no warmth of "long time no see," no polite "how have you been?"—just a quiet certainty: "I know you're looking at me," and pride: "I'm worth being looked at."

Junior, your senior's here!

Sōsetsu Uesugi held his oolong tea, glanced at her expressionlessly, then looked away just as blankly—but his ears, those two honest ears, flushed slightly red.

Seeing that blush, Mai's smile deepened. She didn't walk toward Sōsetsu, but toward the other side of the room—where Minami Uesugi stood.

Minami Uesugi was dressed simply tonight: a navy silk blouse, a cream-colored high-waisted long skirt, and nude low-heeled pointed shoes with heels under five centimeters.

Her hair was in a low ponytail, revealing a sliver of white nape. Her makeup was refined but not flashy—lipstick a gentle bean-paste pink, stockings typical thick black tights.

If someone placed Mai and Minami side by side for comparison, they'd notice a subtle truth: Mai's ten-centimeter heels vs. Minami's under-five-centimeter ones; Mai's velvet blazer glowing with luxury, Minami's silk blouse understated and restrained; Mai's bold retro red lips like a flag, Minami's soft bean-paste lips like a piece of jade.

Together, they looked like two aesthetics deliberately placed for contrast.

One conquers the world, the other stands righteous and unexpected.

It's practically the Second Holy Roman Emperor Sigismund and the Human Empire's Regent Roboute Guilliman!

Meanwhile, Sōsetsu Uesugi looks like Leon El-Jonson.

No, wait—the Second Holy Roman Empire never existed! (bang!)

As Mai walked toward Minami, the air in the room grew tense—like the stillness before a storm, pressure dropping, breath uneven, skin prickling with goosebumps. Animals sense danger before humans—of course, everyone here is human—but in that moment, every person's primal instinct screamed: get back, don't let blood splash on me.

Minami lifted her gaze as Mai approached, expression unchanged, her finger tracing slow circles on the rim of her glass—like timing an irrelevant auction countdown.

Mai stopped in front of her, looking down—literally, from her towering heels—locked eyes for about two seconds.

You came?

I'm here!

Hey, Side Chamber Ama, hurry up and serve tea to this mistress of the palace!

With you? You think you're worthy? You're just a pawn of the Japanese police!

Absurd, then whose pawn are you?!

Oh? Why don't you ask the junior student, who exactly is the hunter and who is the prey?

Get out of my sight, I am the legitimate wife of Muneyuki!

That's what I let you have, idiot! Taking an inferior product and occupying the position, so no one comes to contest it.

You say I'm inferior? I am the esteemed Police Superintendent! The youngest Police Superintendent in Japanese police history!

I became the Head of the Kanto Shrine Alliance at eighteen, baka baka~!

In a flash,

The people around unconsciously shifted back a bit, and Yamada Nanase even clutched her head, burying her face in Hana's armpit. Ugh, is this what the world of the strong is like? So terrifying!

"Minami-chan, long time no see." Shirakawa Mai's voice was not loud.

"Mai-senpai, long time no see." Minami's voice was even softer than hers, but more steady, she did not stand up, maintaining her seated posture, slightly tilting her head to look at Shirakawa Mai, and she emphasized the term "senpai".

Well, it's normal for a wife to follow her husband's lead, isn't it?

Moreover, in social etiquette, speaking while seated versus standing is a blatant "I won't be suppressed by you" posture.

Shirakawa Mai certainly knows this, but her smile hasn't changed in the slightest, as if saying "you sit, you sit, I don't mind." "The case is going well." Shirakawa Mai said, her gaze shifting from Minami's face, past her shoulder, glancing toward Uesugi Muneyuki's direction.

That glance lasted only a few tenths of a second, but Minami caught it.

"Thank you." Minami Ojou-sama accepted the challenge, her fingers stopping their circling: "Mai-senpai, do you have work today? Is the Hand of God side alright?"

Shirakawa Mai casually said: "No way, who let the male lead have no time? Screen time reduced, audiences complain; screen time increased, you police complain, forcing old turtle Kameyama to hard-release a recap episode, resulting in being scolded over ten thousand posts, who to blame? Can't blame Minami-chan, right?"

The air in the entire room dropped a few degrees again.

Minami's smile remained unchanged, but her fingers resumed circling, faster than before.

This is the only place she reveals her weakness—when she's nervous, her fingers move unconsciously.

Shirakawa Mai sat down opposite Minami.

Two women, separated by the coffee table, one wearing a black velvet suit and ten-centimeter slim-heel high heels, the other wearing a dark blue silk shirt and five-centimeter low heels.

One seemed to have come to declare war, the other to defend the city.

"Minami-chan, this skirt looks great on you." Shirakawa Mai said, her gaze moving from the pants to Minami's face: "What brand?" "A niche brand, Mai-senpai might not have heard of it, recommended by Muneyuki." Minami raised her wine cup, took a small sip, set it down: "By the way, Mai-senpai, these shoes of yours look great. Limited edition? I recall fewer than twenty pairs exist in all of Japan."

Shirakawa Mai lowered her gaze to her shoes, smiled: "Muneyuki gave them to me."

Uesugi Muneyuki: "? I'm not, I didn't!"

"The junior student personally put them on me, even measuring my size with his own hands, so of course it counts as your gift!" Mai-senpai said with a smile. "If you're going to say it like that, then indeed." Uesugi Muneyuki was very frank.

"Oh Oh Oh~" A burst of onlookers' noise came from around.

Minami's hand holding the wine cup hovered in midair, paused for half a second.

Then she continued lifting the cup to her lips, finished the last sip, and placed the empty cup on the table.

"Is that so." She said, her tone as flat as saying "the weather is nice today": "His judgment has always been good, I trust him." But in reality, Minami was screaming hysterically inside.

I can't take it anymore! I need to apply for external assistance, I want to apply for external assistance!

Hikawa~! Get up here!

Ikeda Erena tonight wore a burgundy velvet dress, length reaching three fingers above the knee, revealing a section of leg wrapped in black velvet 40D pantyhose, her long beautiful legs, the hose surface subtly glowing with a delicate, warm pearl luster, like a dream, like an illusion.

Erena's medium-length hair fell over her shoulders, makeup heavier than usual, lipstick matching the dress in a burgundy tone.

On her feet were a pair of black CL pointed-toe red-soled high heels, heels as thin as a needle, revealing the delicate softness of the foot's arch, shrouded in a black soft glow, she sat beside Minami, her arm naturally resting on the back of Minami's sofa, posture relaxed like a sunbathing cat, but her eyes held a kind of "what are you going to do?" alertness.

"Miss Shirakawa, long time no see." Ikeda Erena's voice carried a hint of lazy hoarseness.

Shirakawa Mai glanced at her, smile unchanged: "So you're the famous junior student's personal protector, the tall beauty policewoman Erena-chan, you look beautiful today."

"Thank you, Mai-senpai." Ikeda Erena firmly stood beside Minami: "Mai-senpai is also, these shoes are indeed beautiful, Muneyuki's taste has never been wrong."

The air between the two women thickened at that moment. Shirakawa Mai's gaze moved from Ikeda Erena's face to her hand resting on Minami's sofa back, then returned to her face, smile unchanged, but her eyes now held a trace of "come at me together, what do I, Bai, have to fear?"

Three women, one play.

Uesugi Muneyuki sat beside Mai-senpai, a cup of chilled oolong tea before him, his eyes fixed on the wood grain of the coffee table, his ears red as if just scalded by boiling water, and moreover being embraced by Mai-senpai around the neck as she poured him alcohol.

Seeing this scene, at this moment Minami's mind was playing a special scene.

Although her expression was gentle, proper, neither humble nor arrogant, but in her mind, she was replaying a video she herself repeatedly directed and edited before sleep.

The plot is as follows:

One day, Uesugi Muneyuki went on duty, lost contact in a remote mountain.

Three days, five days, one week, no word at all.

Minami waited at home, restless, called Okada Masayoshi, Okada said "still searching". Called Nango Yui, Nango said "will notify you immediately if there's news".

Called Ikeda Erena, Ikeda said "Section Chief, please don't rush".

Then one day, a package was delivered to the Police Superintendent's office, recipient "Uesugi Minami".

The package contained no letter, no note, only a white envelope, inside which was a disc. Minami inserted the disc into the player, the screen lit up.

Uesugi Muneyuki knelt in a luxuriously decorated room, wearing a black suit—but not his own, it was the style Mai-senpai liked. A black leather collar was around his neck, attached to a thin silver chain, the other end of the chain held in Shirakawa Mai's hand. Mai-senpai wore the outfit she has on today—black velvet suit, black strappy camisole, black long pants, ten-centimeter slim-heel high heels paired with a pair of black ultra-thin oily gloss Lycra pantyhose, classic Kurisu light-mature L style.

She sat on a velvet chaise longue, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, the silver chain lightly twining between her fingers. "Minami-chan." The Shirakawa Mai on screen smiled at the camera, that smile was not for Muneyuki, but directly for Minami: "Your husband is here with me, safe, no need to worry. But when he can return depends on whether I want to let him go."

The camera turned, Uesugi Muneyuki knelt at Mai-senpai's feet, head bowed, ears red as if about to drip blood.

Mai-senpai's black high heel pressed against his chin, toe slightly forceful, lifting his face. His face showed a complex expression of shame, resistance, and also a hidden, submerged feeling he himself refuses to admit, of being pierced through by something.

"Call her 'senpai'." Shirakawa Mai said.

"………senpai." Uesugi Muneyuki's voice was hoarse and weak, but Minami heard it clearly.

"Call her 'older sister'."

"Good older sister."

"Be good."

When this scene appeared, Minami Ojou-sama's mouth corner slightly lifted in an arc she herself was unaware of.

Her heartbeat quickened, her breathing also became a little faster. She knew she shouldn't be thinking these things, this was her husband, this was her lawful, sole, sacred and inviolable spouse.

But when that scene of Sōsetsu kneeling before Mai Xuejie appeared, his ears red, his eyes darting, his voice hoarse as he called out "Good older sister," it stirred a strange, scorching, improper excitement deep in her lower abdomen.

Then, the widowed Minami secretly hid that package deep in her wardrobe; late at night, alone, she turned off the lights, opened her computer, and flipped those discs over and over, watching the footage of her husband being bullied and ridden in various ways.

She even began to anticipate Mai Xuejie sending new discs; every time she saw a package at the door, her heartbeat would skip a beat.

What happened to Sōsetsu, Mai Xuejie again?

She felt she might not be quite normal.

But she couldn't stop.

At this moment, Shirakawa Mai sat opposite her, wearing that black velvet suit, those ten-centimeter high-heeled shoes, her legs wrapped in black stockings that shimmered with a satin sheen under the light.

Minami's gaze involuntarily moved downward, from Mai's face to her ankle, huh, this pair is Wolford's sheer velvet diamond-gloss oil-shiny suspender stockings.

Damn it, Minami only felt another scene flashing in her mind!

Can't think anymore! Why on earth do I find this exciting? Indeed, my body is still too weak, tooth sound!

Stop the delusion, return to reality!

"Mai Xuejie, want to pick a song? The karaoke system here isn't bad." Minami immediately said, but her apple cheeks were flushed red, quite suspicious.

Hmm, not sparring anymore?

Shirakawa Mai glanced at her: "Sure, Minami-chan, what do you want to sing?"

First round, Mai Xuejie conquered victory! Minami Ojou-sama technological victory!

Double win!