Chapter 953

Uesugi Muneyuki stood by the window at the end of the hallway of the Special Investigation Headquarters, holding his phone, the screen still lit. Outside, the night was deep, and the streetlights of Meguro blurred into hazy glows in the thin winter fog.

He did not make the call right away, instead leaning against the windowsill for a while, the fragments in his mind rearranging themselves in a new way—not by the severity of the crimes, but in the way that Overbought himself understood.

Humans cannot imagine things they have never seen.

Likewise, as Senior Student Mai said, the scientific and technological inventions I had before age eighteen are constants of the world, things taken for granted; the new things that appeared between ages eighteen and thirty-five are the greatest inventions of this era; and the new things that appear after thirty-five are all heretical nonsense, frivolous tricks—using them sends you to hell.

That is to say, it is possible that everyone's investigation was led astray from the very beginning.

Including Overbought himself.

Uesugi Muneyuki first dialed his father's number.

Uesugi Hironori answered the phone faster than he had expected, as if he had not yet fully fallen asleep: "Yukimatsumaru? You're calling at this hour—is something wrong? Mikoto? She's been doing well lately, already seven or eight months, what's the matter?"

"Father, I want to ask something. If we were to arrange a formal social job for a properly graduated university student with some work ability, how difficult would that be?"

Uesugi Hironori fell silent on the other end for a moment, as if weighing the direction of the question: "That's not too difficult. Every year, many companies hire recent graduates through normal recruitment channels. As long as the résumé has no issues and the interview performance is qualified, being hired is entirely achievable—no special means needed."

This April, the Uesugi Cultural Promotion Foundation will be officially established in Yonezawa City, with Uesugi Hironori as chairman, Uesugi Kuninori as honorary chairman, Uesugi Sadanori as standing director, and Uesugi Muneyuki as honorary director—culture and sports both flourishing.

Surely someone will ask if this is nepotism—nonsense. Would the Uesugi Cultural Promotion Foundation hire a Takeda as chairman? What a joke? The answer is on the face of the riddle: it's naturally the Uesugi Cultural Promotion, so of course it's all Uesugi family members.

Uesugi Muneyuki pressed further: "If a National Diet member steps forward to recommend someone, does that count as a violation?"

Uesugi Hironori laughed on the phone: "Muneyuki, you've been in the Metropolitan Police Department too long—you see everything as a violation. A National Diet member writing a recommendation letter, attaching a résumé, and sending it to a familiar corporate HR department—this in itself is not illegal. The recommendation letter is not an appointment letter; it's merely a written expression of 'suggest consideration.' If the company did not lower its hiring standards because of it, then from start to finish, there would be no basis for holding anyone accountable. Moreover, such things happen almost daily in political and business circles—it's not news. Do you know how many National Diet members have written recommendation letters for university students in their own constituencies? Hundreds, even thousands—not a single case has been ruled as corruption."

Uesugi Muneyuki nodded.

As previously mentioned, Japan's National Diet members, to some extent, bear a responsibility similar to "receiving petitions"—that is, constituents from their districts come seeking help, submitting proposals, or voicing concerns, and the Diet members receive them, listen, and relay the situation in Nagatacho.

Of course, Diet members can also refuse to receive them, or tell them, "You're just a chicken-necked! I was born to be a legislator! What can you do to me?"

The cost is that they'll lose in the next local election—simple and brutal.

That's why Diet members at least put on a show, and this is also why many districts gradually formed "politician dynasties" and "politician hereditary succession"—because when generation after generation comes to you to raise issues and solve problems, these people gradually grow accustomed to unconsciously casting their votes for you and your heir; over time, as long as you don't go too far, the idea of hereditary succession begins to take root.

Roman Senate: I know this one! Orthodox Rome is in Dongying!!

And helping constituents with employment issues—this makes perfect sense.

"So this matter itself is fully compliant."

"Under any circumstances, it cannot be a violation—unless the recommendation letter includes some clause of interest exchange. But if it's a normal recommendation, then it's just a normal recommendation."

Uesugi Hironori couldn't help but laugh: "Others may not say it, but I'll say it—you, Yukimatsumaru, if it weren't for your grandfather Kuninori recommending you to Professor Ouchi after you offended Professor Zaizen, would you be where you are today? Do you think anyone sees a problem? No—within the industry, this is a lovely story." "There's some truth to that, indeed." Uesugi Muneyuki hung up, then dialed Watanabe Eiji's number.

"Father, I want to ask something. If we were to arrange a permanent employee position for a recent graduate from a good university with sufficient work ability to meet hiring conditions, would there be any problem?"

Watanabe Eiji was silent on the other end for a moment: "Why are you asking this? Aren't you investigating the case of the murdered Overbought?" "I just want to confirm whether this matter itself is compliant," Uesugi Muneyuki asked.

"You've been in the system this long—what's there to ask?" Watanabe Eiji chuckled, slightly impatient: "Just ask Minami—she'd know, why come ask me?"

"Minami is fine, but she's not as sharp as you, Father, and she knows when to stop—I'm worried she'll say too much and make things worse," Uesugi Muneyuki said with a smile.

"You little brat, when did you learn to flatter? …Well, since you've said all that." Watanabe Eiji's voice was steady, carrying the firmness that comes after countless personnel reshuffles: "Very simple. After meeting the three conditions—recent graduate, good university, sufficient ability to meet hiring conditions—no one needs to intervene; she can be hired through normal recruitment channels on her own."

"If, on top of that, a high-ranking influential person writes her a recommendation letter—or even just says hello—then her hiring process would leave even fewer questionable traces. Back then, your mentor Ikeda Erena—wasn't it thanks to your transfer that she joined what was then the Special Mission Unit's Special Mission Division? She came from the grassroots, and her procedures were fully compliant."

"Her later ability to transfer into the Special Mission Unit wasn't because your father-in-law approved a slip—it was because her résumé was strong enough, she worked with you on a pile of cases, accumulated countless merits, and was already eligible for promotion. You merely gave her a 'being seen' opportunity. All other procedures, she completed herself."

"But I'll say this: if it weren't for your influence, she would absolutely have had no chance to enter the Metropolitan Police Department, let alone the Special Mission Division—the flagship unit—this is as simple as that."

Uesugi Muneyuki held his phone, stood in the hallway for a while, then walked back to the conference room of the Special Investigation Headquarters.

Everyone was still there; Kashiwagi Jin hadn't left, the canned coffee in front of him was finished, the empty can sat on the desk corner, which he had turned a few times.

"I just made two calls—one to my father, one to my father-in-law. I confirmed one thing: a National Diet member writing a recommendation letter for a recent university graduate is in itself not a violation. If the graduate herself meets the qualifications, her hiring process from start to finish is compliant. This happens every day in political and business circles—it's not an exception," Uesugi Muneyuki said.

Kashiwagi Jin's finger paused on the empty can: "So, Overbought may not have done anything he himself considered illegal. He believes he's clean, because he indeed didn't embezzle public funds, didn't take bribes, and didn't abuse his authority for private gain?"

"Exactly." Uesugi Muneyuki took the documents from Nango Yui's hand, pointing to one item: "Did you find the problem? 'Sasaki Ayaka, 24, just joined a large company six months ago.'"

"Sasaki Ayaka, 24, maintained a lover's relationship with Overbought for about half a year, roughly coinciding with the two months before she joined the large company—she met him at a gathering in Akahaka."

Hearing this, everyone looked puzzled.

How did Uesugi Muneyuki know these two met at a gathering in Akahaka?!?

This part isn't in the documents!

But Uesugi Muneyuki always has some divine or bizarre remarks—we're already used to it.

Besides believing him, what else can we do?

Uesugi Muneyuki shook the documents in his hand: "So, if Overbought merely helped by making an introduction, writing a recommendation letter, or even just saying hello—then from his perspective, in any sense, this is not illegal or unlawful. Not just in Japan—even in other countries, graduates routinely have mentor recommendation letters and employment recommendation forms."

"Am I right? Mina-san?" Uesugi Muneyuki said with interest.

The entire Special Mission Division fell into silence.

Among us, who isn't a connection hire? Among us, who isn't here because of a recommendation?

Could it really be that someone entered this flagship unit of the Metropolitan Police Department without connections or networks? What a joke!

Even if one graduates from a prestigious university with outstanding ability, fights to the end, and is otherwise equal in other aspects—doesn't it ultimately still come down to connections and networks?

Only Ikeda Erena proudly puffed out her chest: "I'm here today—of course it's all from my own effort and sweat. What's embarrassing about saying that? Aren't I the one who solved countless cases with Muneyuki, earned countless merits, and took down countless criminals with my judo and karate?"

"The police force is still bright, after all—I'm one of Japan's 360,000 police officers—why don't I feel oppressed?"

Okada Masayoshi put down his chopsticks, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sweetness, and having ordered lemon tea, he took a sip of unsweetened barley tea: "Uesugi, do you mean someone thinks Overbought's arrangement for Sasaki Ayaka is itself a form of 'favoritism'? Even if the recommendation letter itself isn't a violation, in some people's eyes, a National Diet member arranging for his lover to enter a large company is inherently inappropriate—regardless of whether it violates rules."

Uesugi Muneyuki pulled out a chair and sat, crossing his hands on the desk: "You remember, don't you? A few months ago, Chief Sugimoto of Division One uncovered a case—a retirement company founded by a former Security Department head, which mutually placed retired police officers with an aviation logistics company for secondary employment. On the surface, it was a normal 'post-retirement reemployment' process; in reality, it formed a network of benefit transfer. Those placed retirees collected double pensions while providing 'connection resources' to those two companies. That case was ruled 'latent corruption' because it used legal channels to achieve illegal ends. If the Dark Knight had focused from the start on how much money Overbought took, that wouldn't be it—he focused on what method Overbought used to help Sasaki Ayaka enter that company."

Kashiwagi Jin's mouth twitched: "Then the answer has always been on the face of the riddle. From beginning to end, it might not have been that complicated. Overbought merely did something he considered normal—recommending a job for someone he liked. But to others, this act alone was already enough—enough to make him the Dark Knight's next target."

Uesugi Muneyuki stood up and walked to the window, turning his back to the others.

"We've always thought the Dark Knight chose his targets based on what crimes the victims committed. Perhaps his reason for choosing people is what methods the victims used." Uesugi Muneyuki turned his head, speaking softly: "But maybe it's very simple—Sasaki Ayaka won this permanent employee title, and perhaps that hurt some people."

"So now we need to find out—how did Sasaki Ayaka get into that company? Did anyone write her a recommendation letter? How many people know about her relationship with Overbought?"

"Or perhaps the true culprit—our Dark Knight—is right among them!"