Chapter 113: Crying Counts as Time! From Extreme Joy Comes Sorrow

It was past nine in the evening, and the city lights were just beginning to flicker to life. The sun had clocked out, and Tokyo was once again cloaked in neon.

Matsumoto Shizuko sat by the window in a provocative lace nightgown, gazing at the glittering cityscape. After a moment of hesitation, she took out Aoyama Hide-nobu’s business card and dialed his number.

"Moshi moshi, this is Aoyama Hide-nobu."

"Inspector Aoyama, do you remember me? It’s Matsumoto Shizuko." Her tone was soft and gentle. "I damaged your car earlier, remember? I was wondering when you might be free so we could meet somewhere. I’d like to pay you the remaining balance and treat you to a meal as an apology. I truly hope you won’t refuse."

"Forget the meal. How about we meet tonight?" Aoyama replied after a brief pause.

"Tonight?" Shizuko was taken aback.

Aoyama continued, "Yes. If it’s convenient for you, send me your address, and I’ll have someone pick you up."

"Then I’ll leave it to you, Aoyama-san," Shizuko agreed. After all, her goal was to establish a deeper connection with him.

After hanging up, she hurriedly began to groom herself. She applied fresh makeup and donned a black spaghetti-strap mini dress that revealed a generous expanse of pale skin and deep, alluring curves. The hem was short enough to barely cover her thighs, and she wore sheer black stockings.

Looking at her curvy, scantily-clad reflection in the mirror, Shizuko felt a flicker of awkwardness and shame, but she steeled herself: to live the life she wanted, necessary sacrifices were unavoidable.

About half an hour later, after receiving a call, she headed downstairs. A black Mercedes was waiting at the entrance, and a young man in a black suit bent over to open the rear door. Shizuko bowed slightly before getting in.

As soon as the man in the suit got in, he locked the doors. Hearing the sharp click of the locks, Shizuko’s heart skipped a beat. A strange, inexplicable sense of unease washed over her, and she gripped her handbag tightly.

The car drove from Minato Ward all the way to Arakawa Ward, finally coming to a stop in front of the Eiko Slaughterhouse. Shizuko grew even more anxious; she couldn't fathom why Aoyama would choose to meet here, but she told herself she had already come this far.

Gritting her teeth, she stepped out of the car and summoned her courage to follow the driver into an office. Inside, she saw Aoyama Hide-nobu sitting on a sofa, smiling.

He wore only a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing his prominent Adam's apple. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and his sleeves were rolled up to show off a luxury watch on his wrist, giving him an air of unrestrained, rebellious charm. His physique, unusually tall and powerful, combined with his gentle smile, radiated a sense of absolute security.

"Aoyama-san, this is the first time I’ve met someone at a slaughterhouse. It’s quite exotic. Is this your business?" Shizuko beamed, her voice dripping with charm.

Aoyama didn't answer. Instead, he smiled and gestured for her to come closer. "Sit down, Reporter Matsumoto."

Shizuko walked over and sat beside him, deliberately shifting her hips closer to his. Aoyama could clearly smell the faint scent of her perfume. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and remarked, "You smell lovely, Reporter Matsumoto."

"Do you really think so?" Shizuko asked with a coy smile, though deep in her eyes lurked a trace of disdain. *These men are all the same. Not a single one in power is any good.*

"I do. If you were made into pig feed, the pigs would surely love you," Aoyama said seriously.

Shizuko froze. "Huh?"

"Reporter Matsumoto, do you know what pig feed is made of?" Aoyama opened his eyes.

Shizuko didn't understand why he was asking such a bizarre question. After a hesitant moment, she ventured, "Fodder? Sweet potatoes? Or maybe potatoes?"

"Most of the time, yes. But pigs are omnivores; they eat meat too. So, you see, people can also be used to feed pigs," Aoyama said, looking at her with a smile.

For some reason, even though the man opposite her was smiling brilliantly, Shizuko felt her scalp go numb, and a chill raced straight up her spine.

In the next second, Aoyama pulled her into his arms.

Feeling her body completely enveloped by him, Shizuko shuddered. She was too terrified to even think of resisting; her mind went blank.

Aoyama held her, savoring the warmth, and buried his face in her hair. He whispered, "I hate being lied to. Anyone who dares to lie to me or harbors ill intent, I send to the room next door to be minced and fed to the pigs brought in for slaughter."

"Inspector Aoyama..." Shizuko’s body trembled, her face turning deathly pale as she stammered. She felt as if he already knew everything.

"Shh, don't speak." Aoyama raised a finger to her lips. "Listen. Do you hear the sound of the machines next door? Tell me, do you think they’re mincing pork, or are they mincing a person?"

"Inspector Aoyama, you... you are certainly a joker. You’ve terrified me," Shizuko said, forcing a smile while her hands sweated profusely.

"Reporter Matsumoto is quite brave," Aoyama said, sounding genuinely surprised that she could still maintain her composure. He released her, his expression turning cold. "But I’m sure you’re not as powerful as a meat grinder."

As he spoke, two members of the Yamakawa family stepped forward and dragged Shizuko toward the door.

"Ah! What are you doing!" Shizuko screamed in panic, struggling and shrieking, "Stop! Let go of me! Let me go!" Her high heels were kicked off in the process.

Aoyama crossed his legs and lit a cigarette, ignoring her pleas as if he hadn't heard a word.

"I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Waaaah, I’ll tell you everything! Don't kill me, please, I beg you! I’ll say it all!"

As she was about to be dragged out of the door, and with Aoyama showing no sign of stopping the machines whose roar grew ever louder, Shizuko finally broke down.

Aoyama waved his hand. The two men released her. Deprived of support, Shizuko—her body limp with terror—collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Speak. You have one minute. I want to hear something that satisfies me," Aoyama said, flicking his ash.

Shizuko didn't respond, continuing to weep. Aoyama glared, flicked his cigarette at her shoulder, and barked, "Crying? I’m counting that as part of your minute!"

Shizuko looked up, terrified, and forced herself to stop sobbing, though tears continued to stream down her face. She looked utterly pitiful.

"Speak!" Aoyama commanded harshly. He had no sympathy for enemies.

Shizuko shivered, her eyes filled with fear. Daring not to hide anything, she confessed, "It’s... the editor-in-chief of the political channel. He told me to seduce you, promising me a hundred million yen and a promotion to political reporter if I succeeded. I... I already took an advance of thirty million."

"Just to seduce me?" Aoyama asked.

Shizuko nodded repeatedly. "Yes, just that. I don't know what else he planned for later. Please, let me go, *sob*..."

She had finally steeled herself to abandon her pride to sell herself for a good price, only to run into a situation like this. She was so frightened she wanted to quit her job and run back to her hometown.

Aoyama fell silent, deep in thought. The editor-in-chief of the *Asahi Shimbun*’s political desk probably wasn't the mastermind, as they had no personal grudge. However, he couldn't use the same violent intimidation on an editor-in-chief as he did on a small-time reporter; status and position were a shield. Doing so would only give the other party leverage.

"In that case, go and tell him you’ve successfully seduced me and that we’ve been intimate. Let’s see what he says." As he spoke, Aoyama stood up, crouched beside her, and lifted her chin. "Obey me, and I will make up the remaining seventy million and get you that promotion. If you try to play any tricks, I won't just mince you for the pigs—I’ll go after your family, too."

"No! No! Please, I beg you, don't hurt my family!" Shizuko grabbed his arm, sobbing. "I’ll do whatever you say, I promise."

The editor had only tempted her with money and fame. Aoyama, however, was using both temptation and terror. Caught between the editor and Aoyama, she dared not offend the latter. People might have the courage to point a gun at a good man, but they rarely dared to do the same to a villain.

"That’s the spirit. The floor is cold; get up." Aoyama helped her up gently.

Shizuko rose, trembling. Aoyama brushed the dust off her clothes. "Remember my words. I won’t give you a second chance. You’d better cherish this one."

"Hai! Hai!" Shizuko nodded repeatedly.

When his hand brushed against her skirt, Aoyama paused and pulled back. Shizuko’s face turned bright red; she had wet herself from terror. This was, without a doubt, the most humiliating and shameful moment of her life—a moment she wished she could simply die to escape.

Aoyama had someone take her home, then called Fujimoto Ryoichi. "Look into the political editor of the *Asahi Shimbun*. I want his entire file."

After all, one must know the enemy to win the war.

***

Because he hadn't actually killed anyone and hadn't taken anything from the victim’s home, Noda spent the payoff he’d swindled from Kobayashi without a shred of guilt. After being locked up in the detention center for a month, he felt entitled to indulge himself. Lately, he had been living it up every night.

The four of them were intoxicated by this lifestyle. Tonight, they were partying at a club in Kabukicho, surrounded by beautiful women and endless alcohol. The room was vibrant with lights and music, which couldn't drown out the laughter of the men and women inside.

"Let me feed you a drink," the hostess cooed, leaning into Noda’s arms and holding the glass to his lips.

"Wait," Noda said, dodging with a lecherous grin. "Shouldn't this be mouth-to-mouth?"

"Mouth-to-mouth! Mouth-to-mouth!"

"It has to be mouth-to-mouth to show sincerity, or we aren't tipping!" the blonde-haired man and the others chimed in.

"Oh, you’re so bad," the hostess giggled, took a sip of the drink, held it in her mouth, and leaned toward Noda’s lips with a sultry gaze.

*BANG!*

Just then, the door was kicked open. Everyone jumped, looking toward the entrance in unison. Nakamura Shinichi led his men into the room.

"Who the hell are you..." the blonde man started, looking annoyed as he prepared to stand up.

"Sit down!" Nakamura kicked him back onto the sofa, stepped on his crotch, and pulled out his badge. "Police. You are suspected of involvement in a murder case. You’re coming with us for questioning."

As he spoke, the other officers swarmed in, pinned Noda and his group to the sofa, slapped on handcuffs, and hauled them toward the door.

Noda was completely bewildered, his head spinning. It wasn't until they were outside the club that he finally realized what was happening.

"I didn't kill anyone! I didn't kill anyone! How could I be involved? I was just released!"