Chapter 97: Beware of Greeks bearing gifts

Although Morishita Isamu had told Aoyama Hidenobu to come find him after work, he unexpectedly arrived early before the shift ended and dragged Aoyama out of the office.

"Aoyama-kun, work is never-ending; one must balance labor with leisure! I know you want to do more for the country and its citizens, but if you work yourself into the ground, wouldn't the greatest loss be to the country and the people themselves?"

Good heavens. So, our indulgence now isn't for our own sake, but for the sake of the country and its people. My sense of mission has suddenly skyrocketed.

"Hai! You are absolutely right, Superintendent Morishita. Now that you mention it, I have truly been foolish." Aoyama Hidenobu put on an expression of sudden enlightenment, as if struck by a bolt of wisdom, and added with feigned gravity, "It is not easy for the nation to cultivate an official; we must take good care of our health."

As the saying goes, if someone offers favors without cause, they are either a scoundrel or a thief.

Morishita Isamu was being a bit too enthusiastic.

Aoyama Hidenobu could not help but grow vigilant. This man definitely had designs on him.

"Hahahaha, Aoyama-kun, that is a well-spoken point! Exactly, how much resource does the nation invest to cultivate one of us? Therefore, maintaining our health is the greatest loyalty we can show to the country and its people!" Morishita Isamu laughed heartily, patting Aoyama Hidenobu’s arm.

Aoyama Hidenobu nodded repeatedly. "Hai!"

Upon reaching the parking lot, he intended to take his own car, but was invited by Morishita to ride in his instead. Morishita’s vehicle was a Mercedes-Benz 600SEL. Launched just last year, it was the model commonly known among merchants in the country as the "Tiger Head Benz," its design radiating an overt sense of dominance.

This car could be called a true classic.

There is basically no man in this world who does not like cars. Aoyama Hidenobu was no exception. He had previously thought his Corolla was decent enough, but seeing Morishita’s ride, he suddenly felt a bit ashamed of his own. However, thinking of his "two E-class sedans"—Asai Aya and Mrs. Nohara—his heart balanced out. While the Mercedes S-class was enticing, his E-class was also excellent: leather seats, original factory paint, matrix headlights, a sound system comparable to Burmester, and it was automatic, too...

"Aoyama-kun, no need to envy me; sooner or later, you will have one too," Morishita Isamu said, tapping the hood.

"Hai!" Aoyama Hidenobu replied with a smile. "Then I shall take your auspicious words to heart, Superintendent."

"Get in." With a grand wave of his hand, Morishita opened the driver's side door. Aoyama Hidenobu slid into the passenger seat.

The engine started, and before long, they arrived at Ginza 5-chome, pulling into the parking garage of a multi-purpose building. The two took the elevator to the 20th floor. Stepping out, they faced a long corridor ending in a set of closed double doors, guarded by two security personnel.

"Superintendent Morishita, what kind of place is this?" Aoyama Hidenobu asked, though he already knew. He had guessed it was a private club catering to dignitaries and the wealthy. However, it likely wasn't top-tier, or Morishita wouldn't have the standing to bring him along. A truly high-end club would have strict membership thresholds and operate on an invitation-only basis.

"Paradise." Morishita Isamu turned back with a meaningful smile. Before Aoyama could speak, he grabbed his arm and said, "Let's go; you'll see once we're inside."

At the entrance, Morishita presented a membership card. Aoyama’s sharp eyes caught the word "Paradise" printed in English on the silver-white card. It turned out Morishita hadn't been posturing; the club was indeed called Paradise. The two guards checked the card, didn't bother questioning Aoyama, and bowed while pushing the doors open.

Behind the doors lay another hallway and a massive crystal—or perhaps glass—wall, with the club's name etched upon it. Along both sides of the corridor stood a row of "bunny girls" in black silk leotards and high heels. Each was tall and beautiful. Aoyama Hidenobu’s eyes were like a measuring tape; he estimated they were all at least a C-cup.

Even though he owned two E-class cars, a C-class was actually quite good.

"Welcome."

The bunny girls on both sides bowed in unison. As they bent over, their snowy, full bosoms seemed ready to pop out, making one want to reach out and offer a hand. One bunny girl approached with a radiant smile to greet them, but was waved away by Morishita.

"Aoyama-kun, don't be disappointed; the one thing this place doesn't lack is women." Morishita specifically reassured him, adding, "This club is run by Koreans, and all the girls inside are from Korea, too. The boss claims he is giving Koreans in Japan a chance to be self-reliant, but in reality, they are all just selling their bodies for high wages."

He had become vulgar after entering the club, perhaps accustomed to releasing his darker side here. After all, one has to act like a gentleman outside; the pressure of keeping that up is immense and must be released periodically. This is why many high-society figures enjoy low-brow activities; their threshold for stimulation is high, and under immense pressure, only what normal people might consider "perverted" can provide a sense of relaxed pleasure.

"In that case, the boss is truly a wicked man, exploiting his own compatriots to please foreigners," Aoyama Hidenobu commented airily.

Morishita laughed. "I think so too. But since he is pleasing us, it doesn't matter. That is their internal affair, irrelevant to us consumers. We just need to have a good time."

Passing through the interior corridor, a hall behind a glass wall appeared before them. Perhaps because it was still early, there weren't many guests. Black-silk-clad bunny girls wove through the crowd, giggling and complying when occasionally pinched on the hip or breast.

Is this what a developed nation is like? Damn this wicked capitalist society. Aoyama Hidenobu loved it.

Morishita led him through the hall to room 102 and pushed the door open. Aoyama Hidenobu noticed someone was already inside. A middle-aged man in his early forties, wearing a black shirt and slicked-back hair, had his pants around his ankles. He was pinning a bunny girl onto the sofa, moving with frantic intensity. Even as they entered, he did not stop, focusing entirely on the task at hand.

Short, sharp, and eager.

Aoyama Hidenobu glanced around, noting the absence of a director or film crew, and silently made his judgment before looking at Morishita with a confused expression. Morish