Chapter Twenty-Two, A Sense of Security!

Kabukicho in Shinjuku is one of Tokyo's primary entertainment hubs. With its cinemas, arcades, bars, and a constant stream of people flowing from late night until dawn, it is the quintessential city that never sleeps.

Located in the heart of the bustling Shinjuku ward, Kabukicho is divided into two main sections: Ichome and Nichome. Situated right next to the major transportation hub of Shinjuku Station, it serves as a pleasure district dense with restaurants, amusement facilities, and theaters. The Shinjuku Ward Office itself is located within Kabukicho Ichome.

Before the war, this area was a center of education for Tokyo. In the post-war era, following reforms and the rising demand for entertainment, Kabukicho gradually transformed into an entertainment hub. Foreign investment and the influx of overseas residents became the primary drivers of this revival, making it one of the first areas to recover. The rise of various illicit trades lent the district a darker, more complex character. This tiny plot of land, spanning only 0.35 square kilometers, has become a world-renowned red-light district—the largest in all of Asia—packed with over 5,000 establishments, including hostess clubs, matchmaking services, love hotels, and pachinko parlors.

During its peak in the 1970s and 80s, over sixty gangs and thousands of mobsters operated here permanently. However, that glory has faded. Nowadays, with the Metropolitan Police Department hitting them hard, the gangs have largely gone underground. The district has shifted toward purely commercial business, though the shadow of the yakuza still lingers over many establishments.

"According to intelligence, the host club Ms. Yamada frequented is called 'KJDZ.' This isn't the first time an incident has occurred at this club. They say there are several highly attractive hosts there who are incredibly popular, drawing in many wealthy women who pour their money into them until they are buried in massive debt—some unknowingly owing millions of yen. There have even been cases where yakuza members went to the countryside to collect on those debts."

Inside the car, Ikeda Erena gripped the steering wheel and spoke with resentment to Uesugi Sōsetsu in the passenger seat. "Ms. Yamada Aika admitted during interrogation that she spent a lot of money, but she adamantly refuses to acknowledge any connection to that club."

"Mm, I can imagine." Sōsetsu sat in the passenger seat, flipping through the police files Ikeda had provided. Unlike her, his expression was calm and devoid of emotional fluctuation. "Your precinct likely already investigated the club, but since the specific billings involve personal privacy, they couldn't be reviewed. Besides, Shinjuku ward doesn't fall under the jurisdiction of the Otsuka Precinct, so the trail ends there. That is likely why Assistant Inspector Tanaka suggested we drop it."

"Yes," Ikeda replied softly. Her beautiful face looked "fierce"—unlike the soft, gentle features of traditional Japanese women, the deep contours of her mixed-heritage face made her appear sharp and intense. "I... I cannot tolerate this! Uesugi-san, women are being driven to their deaths by jumping off buildings, yet the club remains open. What are we, as police, supposed to be doing?"

Sōsetsu shook his head at her words. "Ikeda-san, you are a police officer, not a yakuza. You cannot be prejudiced and pass judgment before the facts... and you aren't exactly 'Demon Hachibei,' are you?"

"Demon Hachibei? Who is that?" Ikeda realized she felt quite comfortable talking to Sōsetsu. This normal man spoke with wit and propriety, and she couldn't help but continue the conversation.

"You're a police officer and you don't know Demon Hachibei? He was Hiratsuka Hachibei, a legendary figure in the police world decades ago." Sōsetsu casually recounted a few stories about Hiratsuka Hachibei.

Hiratsuka Hachibei was a famous top-tier Japanese police officer in the post-war era, known for his incredibly high clearance and arrest rates. He was touted as someone who could solve any case, a celebrated star of the force. Countless difficult cases were cracked under his watch. His personal credo was: "Don't seek promotion, don't compromise, and don't obey (superiors)." He personally solved over a hundred homicide cases and received 97 commendations from the Metropolitan Police Department. He was known as the "God of the Police World" and the "Invincible Hachibei."

However, he was also notorious. He earned the nickname "Demon Hachibei" because he was particularly fond of extracting confessions through torture and using "Great Memory Restoration" (helping suspects "restore" their memories by guiding them on how they supposedly committed the crime). He loved to repeatedly lead suspects into providing confessions to secure a quick conviction, and he was known for hiding evidence and refusing to share leads.

As a result, it remains highly questionable how many of those hundred-plus homicide cases were truly solved, and how many simply involved finding a convenient scapegoat.

"We won't know the exact situation until we go and see for ourselves. Besides, you didn't tell Tanaka or the others that you were coming to me, did you?"

"No... I knew it wouldn't matter. Those people would never agree to it." Ikeda felt a surge of anger just thinking about her colleagues. Every officer in the Criminal Investigation Division kept a five-step distance from her, never making eye contact. If they heard her, they would use strictly formal and polite language to keep her at arm's length; if they didn't, they would pretend they hadn't heard her at all. They steadfastly rejected every proposal she made. She had truly been left with no other choice but to seek out Uesugi Sōsetsu.

"So, we are accomplices now." Sōsetsu nodded slightly and smiled. "You don't have to treat me like your other colleagues. I understand what you mean. You believe that an industry based on selling one's body is inherently abnormal, don't you?"

"Isn't it?" Ikeda's beautiful eyes narrowed, a spark of fire flickering in her brown irises. "Are you trying to defend these people?"

"Of course not. I'm just saying there are many ways to sell one's body; it isn't limited to just this one." Sōsetsu ignored the slight barb in her voice and said kindly, "Is a construction worker carrying bricks on a site selling their body? Is a chef sweating in front of a stove selling their body? Is someone handing out fliers on the street selling their body? As a forensic pathologist, I spend my days performing autopsies and running around—isn't that selling my body? Think about it: as a detective, you perform investigations and patrols—isn't that also selling your body?"

"An entertainer singing and dancing on stage is selling their body; an employee serving tea in an office is selling their body; a streamer playing games and chatting on camera is, in essence, selling their body. What industry a person works in is their own freedom. While I wouldn't necessarily recommend the sex industry, the profession of a host is not illegal. You can't just start with a presumption of guilt, can you?"

"Hmm..." Ikeda felt like there was something wrong with Sōsetsu’s logic, but when she thought about it carefully, she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. Her head felt muddled and she couldn't articulate it. But unlike most women, this tall beauty was unwilling to simply admit defeat, so she fell silent.

"Actually, Tanaka-san once recommended that I become a host, saying I could earn at least a million a month. It was tempting, I admit, but I just couldn't get past that hurdle in my own heart," Sōsetsu said with a playful tone.

"Tanaka! That man is absolutely pathetic!" Ikeda gripped the steering wheel tightly, having already sentenced her oily, aging supervisor to death in her mind. To think there was finally a normal man, and Tanaka had the audacity to recommend he become a gigolo? How could he suggest such trashy advice to Sōsetsu with a straight face?

"So, the real key is whether Ms. Kurosawa’s death was truly instigated by that host, and whether the method of murder was directed by him. If it was, he must be severely punished. If not, then he who enjoyed the offerings from Ms. Yamada cannot escape our sanction either! That is why I came with you!" Sōsetsu said earnestly. "We are on the same page, aren't we?"

"Yes." Ikeda agreed softly, nodding in silence. Ripples stirred in her heart. We are accomplices. She had always disliked men, but she felt that acting alongside this man was, at the very least, acceptable. Talking to him was comfortable, he knew so many things, and he stood on the same side as she did—to investigate until the very end!

With this thought, Ikeda Erena found that she could barely manage to communicate with Uesugi Sōsetsu, and she could even slightly tolerate the occasional gaze he cast her way.

Being with him provided a sense of security!

However, Sōsetsu couldn't help but look away. Even in her most conservative attire and with her most serious expression, this female officer couldn't hide the vitality and charm that radiated from her skin and her suit. It was difficult to look away. Unlike the subtle and reserved nature of traditional Japanese women, there was a naturally emanating allure to her mixed-heritage demeanor—something she herself likely hadn't even noticed.

Sōsetsu thought it was no wonder her supervisors kept trying to make a move on her. After spending time with her, Ikeda would inadvertently reveal a unique, open aura. Perhaps influenced by her heritage, her every gesture and glance were more charming and free-spirited than those of traditional Japanese women. And in the context of Japanese cultural traditions, taking the initiative to show one's charm is often interpreted as a signal of being "open"—a sign that she is willing to take things further.

In reality, that wasn't the case at all. She was simply a normal, Western-minded woman who didn't quite mesh with the Japanese environment.

It didn't take long to reach Kabukicho in Shinjuku. As they stepped out of the car, a magnificent, magical display of neon signs enveloped every corner of their vision. Here, everyone looked glamorous, and the hidden desires of humanity were magnified infinitely. Stripped of their conservative masks, the district was gaudy, exaggerated, and chaotic. The bright, bustling traffic and the surging crowds of the night hid the sins within.

Ikeda Erena, in her standard office suit and trousers, and Sōsetsu, in his standard hospital business attire, looked completely out of place; yet, in the chaotic environment of Kabukicho, they somehow looked like a couple.

"On this street, there are only those who exploit and those who are exploited," Sōsetsu said, hands in his pockets. "Everyone on this street is shining brightly, aren't they?"

"...Let's just get this over with." At 1.7 meters tall, Ikeda was particularly conspicuous on the street. She had only taken a few steps before someone holding a camera blocked her path, asking if she wanted to audition. Naturally, she refused. It was normal for a tall beauty to be scouted, but what kind of "audition" it would be was another matter entirely.

Someone also tried to approach Sōsetsu, but under the influence of his composed, piercing demeanor, his eyes carried a kind of hidden power. Many who tried to approach him retreated sheepishly under that gaze.

Several blond, handsome men in slim-fitting suits stood at the entrance of the "KJDZ" club, soliciting customers. Ordinarily, a pair like Sōsetsu and Ikeda wouldn't have been their targets, but seeing them approach, the leader had no choice but to step forward and greet them: "Welcome!"

"That's him. He's on shift today," Ikeda whispered. "Takigawa Tsubasa, a popular host at the club."

"Good," Sōsetsu whispered. "I'll do the questioning. You go to the front desk and show your police credentials."

"Understood."

As soon as Ikeda walked away, Sōsetsu turned to the host—who had long golden hair, a slim build, and a suit printed with lace patterns and shimmering scales—and said, "To think Ms. Kurosawa introduced her own niece to you; she really has no judgment at all. The five champagne towers and two bottles of Royal Salute she opened for you were a complete waste."

"Eh?!" Takigawa Tsubasa’s expression faltered, and he quickly lowered his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hmph, then let me mention a few things you *do* know," Sōsetsu said, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "She took you out twice, bypassing the club to give you money on your day off. Tsubasa-san, you wouldn't want the club to find out about that kind of behavior, would you?"

"You... how did you know?!"

"So, answer my questions, and answer them well." Sōsetsu raised an eyebrow, signaling that they could go inside.

Five minutes later, in a small, brightly lit room within the club, the table was covered with drinks and snacks. The enchanting revolving lights cast colorful shadows. Sōsetsu and Ikeda sat on one side of the soft sofa, while Takigawa Tsubasa sat on the other. Unlike his usual self—charming, confident, and smooth-talking—the host sat with his head lowered, appearing unnatural in front of Sōsetsu. Between Sōsetsu’s high-quality looks and his cold, sharp aura, for a moment, it was hard to tell who the host actually was.

The front desk already had a few wealthy women waiting for Sōsetsu to entertain them.

"You really are a fine specimen, Tsubasa-san," Sōsetsu whispered. "How many champagne towers did Ms. Yamada open for you?"

"Just one," the host said, appearing extremely nervous. "Why?"

"That’s what you need to answer," Sōsetsu whispered again. "Who was it that kept showing Ms. Yamada that 'other women are opening champagne towers for me,' and who was it that leaked to Ms. Yamada that 'I’m only 1.5 million short of my quota this month' to become an executive?"

"What are you talking about? I never forced her to do those things! We were always voluntary!" Under the pressure, Takigawa’s back was already soaked with sweat. The host didn't know how Sōsetsu knew these things. It was precisely because of the unknown that he felt fear.

"Takigawa-san, please tell the truth, you..." Ikeda Erena’s long legs, clad in trousers, were pressed tightly together. The tall beauty looked at the host with a mix of disgust and anticipation.

Sōsetsu interrupted Ikeda’s question, signaling with his eyes that he would handle it. Wasn't that the plan? Ikeda’s eyes flickered, and she obediently fell silent.

However, her questioning had already put Takigawa on guard. "I don't understand what you're talking about. If you want to drink, I'll accompany you. If you don't intend to order anything, I have other guests to attend to."

"A little 'loyal dog' told me," Sōsetsu continued.

"What? Who?!" Sure enough, Takigawa instinctively shook his head. "Please stop trying to lead me into a confession. Sir, I really don't know anything about Ms. Yamada. I must excuse myself."

Sōsetsu and Ikeda left the host club. Seeing Ikeda’s hesitant look, Sōsetsu signaled for them to return to the car to talk.

Once back in the car, Ikeda Erena asked impatiently, "Is that it?"

"How about what I asked you to check with the owner?" Sōsetsu asked, eyes closed.

"Same as before. No change," Ikeda said, still not understanding. "The owner said that without a search warrant from the Second Investigation Division or the District Public Prosecutors Office, we have no right to review consumption records. At the same time, he guaranteed that his shop is completely clean and has no connection to the yakuza."

"That sounds about right," Sōsetsu couldn't help but laugh. "My assessment is that the killing of Ms. Kurosawa was accidental. Ms. Yamada was likely played by this guy—he told her he was short 1.5 or 2 million yen to become an executive, so she went to Ms. Kurosawa for money. During their argument, Ms. Yamada accidentally pushed Ms. Kurosawa unconscious, and then, in for a penny, in for a pound, she killed her. It wasn't instigated by this guy... that’s normal."

"So you mean this incident has nothing to do with the host?" Ikeda felt very disappointed.

"No, he didn't instigate the murder, but he did guide her on how to dispose of the body," Sōsetsu narrowed his eyes. "Look at his expression; he clearly knows something. Think about it: did we ever mention that Ms. Kurosawa was dead? Or that Ms. Yamada had been arrested? Yet he was very certain, which shows he was extremely nervous—nervous that we might wrongly blame him, and nervous that we might implicate him."

"So that’s it..." Ikeda stared blankly, still feeling like she didn't quite grasp it. But since this man said so, she felt it must be true. "Then what do we do? Arrest him?"

"We don't have evidence. How can we arrest him?" Sōsetsu shook his head slightly. "Everything above is just my personal speculation."

"Then we're just going to let him go? How can we do that? Uesugi-san, you said you were on the same side as me, that we would investigate this to the end!" Ikeda bit her lip tightly. She was unwilling! Absolutely unwilling! The criminal was right in front of them—how could they just give up? How could they let go of a scumbag who manipulated women, defrauded them of their money, and coached them on committing crimes?

"Right, I don't intend to let him go either," Sōsetsu signaled for her to calm down. "Let’s think about it again. A host with a high school education—how could he possibly know how to dispose of a body, and why would he know how to use such sophisticated methods to confuse a forensic pathologist’s autopsy?"

"The answer is simple: he used to be a yakuza—the kind of low-level peripheral member responsible for disposing of bodies. But later, he quit, changed his name, changed his identity, and was 'reborn' as a host." Sōsetsu clapped his hands. "Remember what I said about a 'loyal dog'?"

"I remember." Ikeda still didn't understand.

"It’s a slang term only yakuza understand, referring to a traitor," Sōsetsu joked. "If he was once a yakuza, then knowing how to dispose of a body makes perfect sense."

After saying this, he reached out and pressed Ikeda Erena’s shoulder, telling her not to get up. "Wait, we have no evidence!"

The tall beauty was going crazy. No evidence, no evidence—couldn't they solve the case without it? Could they not sanction crime without evidence? Then what was she a police officer for?!

"So, we need to change our approach slightly," Sōsetsu said softly. "A host might have guided Ms. Yamada on how to dispose of a body, and without concrete evidence, he cannot be convicted."

"However, if a yakuza instigated a woman from normal society to commit murder for money, thereby funneling benefits to a host club to conduct illegal financial activities, we don't need direct evidence of the murder." Sōsetsu said in a low voice, "Do you understand now?"

The man narrowed his eyes, looking out at the deep, brilliant skyline of Kabukicho. In his bright eyes, he no longer hid his calculations. He was confident, composed, and radiant. His demeanor and the answer he provided instantly captured the tall beauty’s emotions.

From this man, Ikeda Erena truly felt a sense that no other man had ever brought her.

A sense of security!