Chapter 896

The case in Saitama Prefecture, first-hand information.

In the afternoon, Minami placed the documents in Uesugi Muneyuki's hands, and everyone gathered around.

"Come, let me take a look!" Uesugi Muneyuki immediately released the faxed documents.

Relying on the system has this advantage—he can obtain first-hand materials immediately, and the power imbalance within the bureaucratic system largely stems from information asymmetry.

Even Yamada Nanase gathered around.

Uesugi Muneyuki possesses spirit vision and strong browsing ability; he quickly spoke to summarize for everyone:

"The deceased was a forty-two-year-old housewife named Dae Beom Yangna, her husband is an executive at a trading company with considerable income. Imagine where she lived—one of Saitama Prefecture's upscale residential areas, a detached house with a yard, expensive ornamental trees planted at the entrance."

"Indeed..."

"Last year, she adopted a cat from that animal rescue organization, signing a contract beforehand. I read a few clauses—listen up." Uesugi Muneyuki held up the documents and said.

"First clause: adopters must be at least twenty-five years old, have stable income and independent housing. This is normal. Second clause: all household members must agree to the adoption and have no cat allergy history. This is also normal. Third clause: adopters must not transfer the cat to others; if they wish to relinquish adoption, they must return the cat to the rescue organization. This clause is also fairly normal."

"The fourth clause—get this: the rescue organization has the right to enter the adopter's home at any time, without prior appointment, to inspect the cat's living environment, health condition, and diet quality. Any time. Without prior appointment. Entering the home."

"Moreover, adopters must not become pregnant without the rescue organization's consent; if they have children, they may only accept children aged twelve or older."

"I can't believe it!" Kai Xiangren couldn't help but complain: "This isn't an adoption contract—it's a property transfer agreement! Why doesn't the rescue organization just handle the transfer procedures outright?"

"Don't rush, hear me out." Uesugi Muneyuki continued: "Fifth clause: adopters must submit a health report for the cat to the rescue organization every three months, accompanied by a veterinarian's signature. Although troublesome, this clause is still understandable."

"Sixth clause: the rescue organization has the right to immediately reclaim the cat if inspections fail, and to refuse refund of any incurred expenses."

"Seventh clause: adopters must pay a deposit to the rescue organization, amounting to twice the cat's breed market price. The cat is an ordinary Japanese domestic cat, with market price nearly zero, yet they collected a deposit of twenty thousand yen."

"Eighth clause: adopters must donate at least five thousand yen per month to the rescue organization's 'Cat Protection Fund,' and must purchase specified brands of 'Safe and Healthy Imported Cat Food' from designated stores... roughly ten thousand yen for 5KG."

"Ninth clause: adopters must attend the rescue organization's quarterly 'Cat Parent Meetings'; absence is not permitted."

"Tenth clause—final interpretation rights of the contract belong solely to the rescue organization."

"Wow, even a feudal lord from Edo would tear up hearing this." Date Nagamune couldn't help but complain after listening: "Compared to ancient people, modern folks are even more feudal—might as well just sign a servitude contract!"

"So what's the reason then?" Okada Masayoshi asked.

"That rescue organization is called 'Cat's Wall Outside Investigation Corps.' The name sounds very chuuni, but their actions can't be summed up by chuuni alone. The organization has over a dozen 'Cat Rescue Officers,' nominally volunteers responsible for follow-ups and inspections, but in reality, some treat this status as a privilege. Frequent home visits. Without any warning. Knocking at seven in the morning, ten at night. Reason: 'We're worried about the cat's health.' As visits piled up, the deceased grew dissatisfied. She argued with the organization several times, saying you can't come to my house like this—it's my private space." Uesugi Muneyuki continued: "There's a man in the organization, thirty-five or thirty-six, single, no fixed job. His title is 'Senior Cat Rescue Officer.' Since last year, he's used follow-ups as an excuse to visit the deceased's home many times. Some of these visits weren't recorded by the organization... in fact, he had taken a liking to the deceased. She was attractive, wealthy, her husband often away on business, leaving her alone at home."

"Oh Oh Oh" The men at the scene suddenly understood; Minami snorted coldly, Eirina's face instantly darkened as she prepared for the super blazing dance, while only Yamada Nanase looked frightened.

"In short, the tragedy unfolded this way." Everyone behind could understand what happened next; Uesugi Muneyuki sighed.

Such Japanese animal rescue organizations have long existed, and in recent years have become increasingly extreme; they constantly advocate 'adopt, don't shop' on the surface, but in practice often... are unpleasant.

As mentioned earlier, they impose extremely strict requirements on adopters.

No singles, no cohabiting couples, no office workers, no dual-income couples, no students, no interns, no roommates, no those without property, no households with annual income under six million yen, and they also check tax and bank deposit proofs.

After adoption, adopters are required not to cage animals, must use no enclosures, must guarantee daily dog walks or cat playtime, must undergo annual checkups at expensive pet hospitals, must be spayed/neutered, must eat imported food, etc.

Moreover, they demand adoption contracts of 10–20 years; if the animal dies, a third-party corpse examination report must be provided within four hours; whether moving, giving birth, or long-term travel, prior notice to the organization is required, plus at least one guarantor and one emergency contact.

There's also a lengthy written review process and the multiple surprise home visits mentioned earlier.

And even so, adopters are not allowed to choose their cats or dogs at the time of adoption.

Thus, in practice, only two types of people can meet their demands.

The first type is affluent housewives.

The second type is 'wealthy young ladies'; here, 'wealthy young lady' does not refer to the kind of only daughter within the Jiang-Zhe-Shang system whose parents earn three to five hundred thousand marks and endlessly cover for their daughter with gold coin explosives.

Here, it refers to those who can afford to hire full-time maids, like Toyokawa Shoko, who has an independent estate, rides in a Maybach to and from school, has no job, is extremely wealthy, has unlimited time, and possesses a gentle, kind personality.

They only want this type of adopter.

And the cats they bring home are very likely to be adult, unsocialized, trauma-afflicted ugly cats.

Speaking of this, someone might think this is utterly ridiculous? How does such an extreme organization survive?

However, the truth is, precisely because of their extreme screening of adopter demographics, they are able to survive.

Because this type of adopter is characterized by gentleness, patience, ability to produce gold coin explosives, and to make long-term donations and serve as 'blood bags' for these rescue organizations—without being extreme, could they get by?

And the so-called animal rescue essence is essentially a bottomless pit.

You rescue this year, and immediately they produce a litter, then another, two litters a year, three years and two heads of cats can produce two hundred cats—do you rescue or not? Someone says TNR (trap-neuter-return), but pet hospitals and veterinarians would die laughing—spaying business would never end, belonging to that, and even if returned, numbers wouldn't decrease, because strong individuals from other communities would immediately fill the vacancy, oh my, another round of spaying business—you're truly a great benefactor to pet hospitals!

Then comes capturing and holding them until adoption.

In fact, any organization and any given area, even entire society, has a limited number of pets that can be adopted; the hardest part of animal rescue is the final step: someone adopting.

Adopters are limited, and becoming ever more limited.

Moreover, there's a serious problem: those who can be adopted out (using cats as an example) are basically pedigree cats, healthy cats, gentle-tempered good cats.

What remains are sick cats, ugly cats, elderly cats—these bad cats.

Over time, a rescue organization can end up holding hundreds, even hundreds of bad cats.

This is doomed—holding them in hand, a hundred cats' monthly cat litter and litter sand could cost over 300,000 yen.

And by now the archway has already been erected—there's no way to really turn hundreds of Hagimi into scuba divers, right?

Moreover, any organization's operation requires funding, but all actions of animal rescue organizations need funding while being unable to profit, including adoption; if adoption required payment, why wouldn't I just buy instead? It would save trouble, and selling cat litter, cat food, cat toys is merely a drop in the bucket. Thus, these animal rescue organizations' only outcome is bankruptcy.

Yet the ones that truly survive among these animal rescue organizations do so precisely because they are extreme enough, perverted enough, harsh enough, shameless enough—able to parasitize on kind housewives and wealthy young ladies, sucking blood.

And even so, these animal rescue organizations often still face funding shortages and societal misunderstanding, yet they believe they have always been doing something profoundly sacred, that they are great, sacred, selfless.

Yet the outcome is they end up poor, scolded, not understood.

Thus, these people will soon begin to resent others, resent society, resent every person who doesn't understand them, resent the Three-Body people, lizard people, Jews, M78 Nebula people, and so on and so forth.

This is the cursed animal rescue.

And in reality, there is only one way to truly reduce stray animal numbers.

Euthanasia.

Nango Yui leaned against the chairback, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest twice: "Uesugi-san, will this organization still have other victims? Not just Saitama Prefecture—other prefectures might have them too. Adoption contracts signed, deposits paid, monthly donations deducted, then harassed, harassed, harassed—either endure until contract expiration and return the cat, or like this case, endure until they can no longer bear it."

Uesugi Muneyuki withdrew his gaze from outside the window and settled it on Nango Yui's face: "You call Saitama Prefecture Police now, have them check this organization's adoption records. See how many contracts they've signed in recent years, whether adopters have reported to police, whether anyone has filed complaints. How those complaints were finally handled, whether they were 'settled through negotiation.'"

Uesugi Muneyuki stood up from his workstation and walked to the window. Sunlight streamed in from outside the glass, gilding his trench coat with a thin layer of gold. "Let them go check it out."