Chapter 26: So, What Do You Think of Me Becoming Prime Minister? (Please Vote! Please Keep Reading!)

After a simple bandage at the hospital, Junichi Matsushita was taken back to the police station for interrogation by Hidenobu Aoyama.

"Junichi Matsushita, we already know everything about your situation. Those two just now—weren't they sent by Matsuo Noguchi to silence you? Even after that, do you still intend to shield him?" Hidenobu Aoyama spoke in a low, grave tone.

By now, Junichi Matsushita had regained his composure. He believed those two killers were indeed sent by Matsuo Noguchi—after all, such a thing was entirely in character for him. He was furious about it, and hated Matsuo Noguchi deeply, but even so, reason told him he could not betray the man. His wife and child were still out there, after all, so he could only swallow his anger. Most importantly, he did not believe the police truly had enough evidence to charge him with drug trafficking so soon. If he refused to confess, there was still a chance he might go free.

Such is human nature. Until the very end, there is always a sliver of hope.

Thus, in the face of Hidenobu Aoyama’s interrogation, Junichi Matsushita remained defiant. "I don't understand what you're saying. I don't even know why I'm sitting here. I don't know what crime I've supposedly committed. I want to contact my lawyer. Right now."

"In that case, let's talk about something you do understand." Hidenobu Aoyama smiled faintly, leaned back in his chair, and said lightly, "After we realized you ran, we secretly stationed officers around your house. Just now we received word: some unidentified men were seen lurking near your home. Tell me, whose men do you think they are? What do you think they want?"

Junichi Matsushita's expression darkened, his hands on the table clenching unconsciously, but he still kept silent, stubbornly refusing to speak.

"Then try guessing this: if we spread the news that you, out of hatred for Matsuo Noguchi for trying to have you killed, have decided to cooperate with us, and then withdraw some of the men protecting your wife and daughter—what do you think an enraged Matsuo Noguchi would do to your family?" Hidenobu Aoyama leaned forward, a smile playing at his lips as he locked eyes with Matsushita.

It was pure bluff—after all, only three people knew and participated in tonight’s operation: himself, Fujimoto, and Nakamura.

“Bastard!” Junichi Matsushita, well aware of Matsuo Noguchi’s character, was instantly both terrified and furious. He struggled violently, trying to rise from his seat. “You can’t do that!”

Hidenobu Aoyama burst out laughing, stood up, and continued to goad him, spreading his hands with a mocking smile. “So, do you think he’d kill your wife and daughter out of spite? Or will he believe you’d never betray him, not even after an attempt on your life? I’m really curious, actually. Why don’t we make a bet?”

“Bet my ass!” Junichi Matsushita exploded, his eyes bloodshot as he screamed in hysterical despair. “You can’t do this! If you do, you’re murdering people! You’re a cop! Don’t you have any professional ethics? You’re treating human life like nothing!”

Shinichi Nakamura, who was observing the interrogation, felt numb.

Why did it feel like Deputy Chief Aoyama was the real villain here?

Meanwhile, Junichi Matsushita seemed utterly pitiful.

“Oh my, murder—what a terrifying accusation,” Hidenobu Aoyama said, putting on an exaggerated look of fear, then shrugged with a fearless grin. “But who knows? Who cares? Who has evidence? Who would ever hold me accountable? Well, maybe I’ll have nightmares about it sometimes—but what of it?”

He stepped closer, bracing both hands on the table as he looked down at Matsushita, eyes full of mockery. “Is it going to make me skip a bowl of rice at dinner? I’m honestly curious. Let’s give it a try.”

“No! No!” Junichi Matsushita wailed, sobbing uncontrollably as he banged his head on the table. “Take it out on me—my wife and child are innocent! They don’t know anything, really, nothing at all. I beg you, please spare them.”

Smack! Hidenobu Aoyama slapped him hard across the face, grabbed him by the hair, and forced his head up, eyes cold and merciless. “Innocent? The luxury your family enjoys is bought with the money you made trafficking drugs. That makes them far from innocent! I’m giving you one last chance—talk! Or don’t!”

Junichi Matsushita only cried harder, tears streaming down his face, unable to utter a word.

“Damn it! You’re given a chance and you throw it away!” Hidenobu Aoyama’s eyes were fierce as he slammed Matsushita’s head down onto the table. “Since you don’t care about your wife and daughter’s lives, then I have even less reason to care. Nakamura!”

“Sir!” Shinichi Nakamura quickly stood up.

“Send someone to leak word to Matsuo Noguchi that Junichi Matsushita, bitter over the attempt on his life, has decided to cooperate with us—”

“No! No! I’ll talk! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!” Junichi Matsushita couldn’t hold out any longer. His psychological defenses crumbled completely. Clutching Aoyama’s arm, he wept and begged, “Please, don’t—I'll tell you everything.”

“You should’ve done that from the start. A toast refused is a penalty accepted.” Hidenobu Aoyama snorted, shook off his hand, and sat back down. “You’ve been with Matsuo Noguchi for quite some time, haven’t you? You must have evidence that could bring him down. Where is it hidden?”

Junichi Matsushita looked conflicted, hesitating to speak.

Smack! Aoyama slammed the table. “Talk!”

“In... in the backyard of my house, under a tree. It’s an iron box—inside are accounting books and recordings of my conversations with Matsuo Noguchi,” Junichi Matsushita blurted out in terror, then looked up, pleading anxiously, “Please, you must catch Matsuo Noguchi. Please, I beg you!”

Without a doubt, right now he wanted Noguchi caught even more than the police did. Otherwise, his family would suffer terribly.

“You don’t need to tell us that.” Hidenobu Aoyama picked up his phone and called Ryoichi Fujimoto, who was still staking out Matsushita’s home. “He says the stuff is buried under a tree in the backyard. Dig it up and see.”

“Got it!”

About seven or eight minutes later, Fujimoto called back, excitement in his voice. “Found it. It’s enough to arrest him directly!”

“Good, bring it back right away.” Hidenobu Aoyama hung up, looked at Junichi Matsushita, and slowly broke into a smile. “Junichi, there’s something you’ll find out sooner or later, so I might as well tell you now. Those two killers weren’t actually sent by Matsuo Noguchi. He probably doesn’t even know you’ve been arrested—he’s still waiting for you to check in with him.”

Matsushita’s expression froze in an instant.

He stared dumbly at Aoyama for a moment, then flew into a rage, pounding the table until it shook. He shouted hoarsely, “You bastard! You broke the rules! I’ll sue you! I’ll report you!”

He had never imagined he’d been so thoroughly played. The more stifled he felt inside, the angrier he became.

“Heh, I wouldn’t recommend it.” Hidenobu Aoyama shook his head, baring his teeth in a chilling grin. “You’re going inside, but there are still people outside. Think of your wife and child.”

“Ah!” Junichi Matsushita could only let out a furious, powerless roar, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cursed in despair, “You’re not fit to be a police officer!”

“I agree.” Hidenobu Aoyama nodded sagely, then asked with a straight face, “But do you think I’d make a good prime minister?”

“Damn you! If that day ever comes, it’ll be a disaster for all of Japan!” Junichi Matsushita ground out between his teeth.

“Is that so?” Hidenobu Aoyama gave it serious thought. “Then I suppose I must do it.”

And with that, he laughed heartily and walked out of the interrogation room, leaving Matsushita behind, still hurling curses.