Chapter 17: Madam, In My Eyes, This Is a Plus

"Sob... sob..." Mrs. Nohara's hair was disheveled, the white flower pinned atop her head had fallen to the floor, its petals scattered in chaos. Her black mourning dress was torn and barely covered her body, exposing wide swathes of pale, delicate skin. Her cheeks were still flushed as she curled up in a corner of the sofa, quietly weeping.

Hideyuki Aoyama was already dressed, restored to his usual suave, gentlemanly façade. He sat contentedly nearby, smoking a cigarette, his gaze occasionally drifting toward the young widow beside him, a wicked smile playing at his lips.

With a sudden slap, he struck her.

Her shapely figure quivered, and a faint handprint appeared on her flawless skin. Mrs. Nohara shuddered, turning her head to look at him with a mixture of shame, anger, and fear. Instinctively, she drew her knees together and bit her lip, pleading softly, "Mr. Aoyama, I truly can't go on..."

She was delicate, frail, unable to withstand his relentless advances; besides, Hideyuki Aoyama was robust and forceful, far more than she could endure.

"Mrs. Nohara, you really are quite weak," Hideyuki Aoyama mocked, causing her face to burn with embarrassment. Ignoring her protest, he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair and inhaling its faint fragrance. "Thank you for your generous hospitality today, madam. Leave the matter of the Noguchi Association to me."

Now that the deed was done, it was time to get down to business.

Hearing the word "hospitality," Nohara Irene blushed even deeper, mortified to the point of silence, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Alright, I'll be off. I'll visit you often from now on, lest you become too lonely at home," Hideyuki Aoyama said, releasing her.

Irene’s lovely face grew even more bitter at his words. It seemed she would be occupied by him for the long term. Her thoughts tangled, she asked, "Mr. Aoyama, my husband has only just passed away. Do you really not mind?"

Some would find it inauspicious, and she hoped to use this to deter him from further violation.

But she was mistaken.

"Madam, that's a bonus in my eyes!" Hideyuki Aoyama laughed heartily, then leaned down and kissed her tender, trembling lips before turning to leave, waving carelessly behind him. "Madam, if it's inconvenient, don't bother seeing me out."

As Aoyama's figure disappeared, Irene turned her gaze to her husband's portrait.

Tears welled up instantly. She had just been ravished by another man before her husband's memorial, and to her shame, she had felt excitement. What a debased woman she was.

"Sob... sob... Husband, forgive me. I only wanted to protect the inheritance you left behind... sob..."

Besides, it was his size that made it impossible.

Just then, footsteps sounded. Irene looked up to see Hideyuki Aoyama returning, her face instantly pale. Pitifully, she pulled her tattered kimono tighter around herself.

"I'll borrow this for a day," Hideyuki Aoyama said, bending to pick up the large mobile phone from the table.

Such devices were expensive now, and pagers too inconvenient, so he opted for a zero-cost acquisition.

Irene blurted out, "That's my husband's keepsake, Mr. Aoyama, you can't use it..."

"Madam," Hideyuki Aoyama interrupted impatiently, his smile sly. "Aren’t you also your husband's keepsake? And didn’t I use you?"

Irene’s cheeks flushed with shame and anger, leaving her speechless. She could only watch helplessly as he walked out with her husband's portable phone.

Stepping outside the Nohara household with the phone in hand, Hideyuki Aoyama felt refreshed as the wind brushed past. He dialed Ryoichi Fujimoto.

Tokyo had just upgraded to direct-dial phone networks this year, eliminating the need for switchboard operators and making calls much more convenient.

"Moshi moshi, this is Ryoichi Fujimoto."

"Ryoichi, it’s me, Hideyuki Aoyama."

"So it’s Detective Aoyama," Ryoichi Fujimoto answered formally, reminding Hideyuki that they weren’t close enough for first names yet. "What can I do for you, Detective Aoyama?"

"The weather’s nice today, Ryoichi-san. How about coming out for a drink?" Hideyuki Aoyama acted as though he didn’t notice the chill in Fujimoto’s tone, proceeding as he pleased.

During their brief collaboration on the Nohara murder case, Hideyuki had found Fujimoto to be ambitious and ruthless, yet undeniably capable, especially in his connections with all manner of people. He hoped to ask him more specifically about the Noguchi Association.

Hearing Hideyuki address him so familiarly, Ryoichi Fujimoto grew irritated, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Detective Aoyama, it’s work hours now. Unlike you, I don’t have a superior’s favor and can’t leave my post. If you need something, let’s talk after hours."

He had just been transferred to the detective division, which was Akihiro Nakayama's stronghold. Already isolated, he dared not give his superiors any reason to fault him, lest he meet a bad end.

Why had he been transferred? To make room for Hideyuki Aoyama, of course.

So why did this damned man show not a shred of guilt for being the cause of his predicament, yet acted so intimately?

"Ah, is that so?" Hideyuki Aoyama clicked his tongue in disappointment, sighing carelessly, "I was going to tell you how to break free from the limits of a non-professional background, but since you’re busy, never mind..."

"Hideyuki-san, one hour from now, at Ginza Chisei Kaiseki—please, you must grace me with your presence!" Ryoichi Fujimoto switched instantly, his tone warm and sincere.

Hideyuki Aoyama smiled, "I’ll be there."

Ginza Chisei Kaiseki was an expensive restaurant. When it was time to invest, Fujimoto certainly didn’t hold back. If not for academic limitations, he would have had a brilliant future.

………………………………

Ginza—undoubtedly Tokyo’s most bustling district. Even as the economy declined, it remained full of life, with not a trace of desolation.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, Hideyuki Aoyama gave Fujimoto's name and was led by the waiter to a private room.

The sliding camphor door opened slowly. Inside, Ryoichi Fujimoto rose quickly, welcoming him with enthusiasm and respect. "Hideyuki-san, please, have a seat."

After a slight return of courtesy, Hideyuki entered and sat down.

The waiter closed the door quietly behind them.

"Hideyuki-san, let’s have a toast first. The sake here is quite good," Ryoichi Fujimoto filled Hideyuki’s cup and raised his own in invitation.

Hideyuki glanced at the array of exquisite dishes before picking up his cup. "Thank you for your generosity, Ryoichi-san. Allow me to dedicate this cup to you."

"You’re too kind, Hideyuki-san. I’ve long wanted to invite you for a drink but never had the chance. Thank you for honoring me today," Ryoichi Fujimoto lied without blinking, draining his cup and setting it down. Pressing his hands to his thighs, he bowed solemnly. "About what you mentioned on the phone, please enlighten me further."

Clearly, he was in a hurry.

He didn’t even bother pretending to be reserved.

No choice—this matter was becoming an obsession for him, and he believed Hideyuki Aoyama knew it. There was no need for pretense between them.

Better to be direct—it showed sincerity.