Chapter Forty-Three: Everyone Held Something Back

In a certain apartment in Ebisu, Tokyo, the doorbell rang briefly and urgently. Watanabe Riku opened the door and greeted the man outside, “Mr. Oda, please come in.”

“Sorry to bother you.” Oda Yuzo changed into disposable slippers at the entryway and walked into the room. This comfortable and spacious one-bedroom apartment was Watanabe Riku’s residence in Tokyo; his family owned an entire building in Kyoto, making him unmistakably wealthy.

“How’s Ye’s condition?” Oda Yuzo asked.

Watanabe Riku pointed to the balcony. “He seems a little too relaxed.”

Oda Yuzo walked over. Ye Zhao was sitting cross-legged on the floor, hugging Watanabe Riku’s bass, playing it enthusiastically while following a “Bass Performance Tutorial.”

“You don’t seem affected at all,” Oda Yuzo said teasingly.

“Quite the opposite. I’m in a terrible mood.” Ye Zhao put down the bass and stood up. “Mr. Oda, how’s the information gathering going?”

“It’s all done. That Ogawa Mika switched from a lounge in Shinjuku to one in Akasaka this June, but she hasn’t done well there. Plus, she changed her hostess name—she’s not ‘Wakatsuki’ anymore, now she goes by ‘Miyo.’”

Oda Yuzo was a staff member sent by BEING to assist Ye Zhao. On the night he was surrounded by reporters, Ye Zhao contacted Watanabe Riku, who drove to the apartment. Meanwhile, Akihiko Aragaki, disguised as Ye Zhao, left with staff in a van to draw the reporters’ attention, allowing the real Ye Zhao to be taken by Watanabe Riku to his Ebisu apartment.

That night, Ye Zhao contacted Nagato Daikou and, after explaining the truth, proposed a solution: Ogawa Mika, eager for sensational news, had produced a fake photo. Although the man in the photo bore a strong resemblance to Ye Zhao, it wasn’t actually him. Therefore, as long as they could prove the photo was fake, there was a chance to turn things around.

Nagato Daikou wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about uncovering the truth. In his view, a singer embroiled in such a scandal had only two options: retire behind the scenes to become a dedicated lyricist and composer or rely on a backlog of high-quality music to help the public forget the scandal. Unless they could obtain irrefutable evidence, any inconsequential testimony would only keep the scandal alive.

“We’ll handle the necessary PR. Why not lie low for a while, work behind the scenes, and wait for the magazine frenzy to die down? Then we’ll arrange for your gradual comeback.” Nagato Daikou wasn’t one for stirring up trouble.

“At least let me try? I really don’t think this is as complicated as it seems,” Ye Zhao pleaded.

Nagato Daikou pressed his throbbing temples, feeling as if he’d signed his name to a hot potato. “Fine. One week at most. If you can’t find a breakthrough, you’ll have to listen to my arrangement.”

“No problem,” Ye Zhao agreed readily.

The next morning, Oda Yuzo came to the door. Having been in a Tokyo biker gang as a teenager, he was well-versed in the city’s underbelly. With his help, gathering information on a hostess was a breeze.

“In terms of her relationships, her current boyfriend is Kaho Eisaku, a man she met while working in Shinjuku. He seems to have some money. When Ogawa Mika left Shinjuku, she boasted about ‘living the good life with him.’ But why she’s back to hostessing now is unclear.”

Ye Zhao sneered. “Most likely, her dream of becoming a rich wife has shattered.” What concerned him more than Ogawa Mika’s sudden attack was whether this incident was coincidentally exploited by BRUNING or orchestrated at their instigation.

Either way, to make any progress, he had to find the main culprit first.

The back of the lounge where Ogawa Mika worked opened onto a desolate alley, frequented only by drunken patrons or idle vagrants who left crude chalk drawings on the walls. When Ye Zhao found her, Ogawa Mika was sitting on the steps by the entrance, gazing blankly at the graffiti. When she saw Ye Zhao, she squinted and hesitantly asked, “…Zhao?”

Ye Zhao kept his hands in his jacket pockets. “I heard you were supposed to be living the good life with that banker.”

“Nothing compared to you. One careless move and you became a big shot.” Ogawa Mika smiled, standing up and looking at Ye Zhao with her hands behind her back.

“Thanks to you, just as my career was starting to rise, I’m not far from a fall.” Ye Zhao looked at her. “As for you, a bank executive’s annual salary can’t be less than eight million yen, right? He’s still letting you keep this job?”

Ogawa Mika didn’t take the bait. “You’re here about the magazine report? Want me to clear your name?”

“No.” Ye Zhao’s response was crisp. “The article is already out. Even if you speak up now, it’s useless—people will only think I forced you. I don’t want to add more charges to this mess.”

“What’s wrong? You look disappointed by my answer.” Ye Zhao watched her expression closely.

“…No,” Ogawa Mika stared at the ground. “It’s just a pity. I thought if you spoke to me properly, I might have changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind?” Ye Zhao showed interest. “Even now, you’re still holding back?”

Ogawa Mika laughed. “Fifty million. Give me fifty million and I’ll play my last card.”

“Fifty million? And after that? What is this card?” As he spoke, Ye Zhao leaned in, grabbed her arms behind her back, and searched her waist. A small recorder fell to the ground with a “clack.”

“Give you fifty million, and then what? Wait for you to take the money and hand the recording and transaction records to the magazine? Ogawa Mika, do you really think I’m that stupid?” Ye Zhao picked up the recorder, lamenting inwardly that his former self had died for such a woman.

With her scheme exposed, Ogawa Mika seemed to lose her last hope. “I’m finished…”

“What?”

Her eyes were filled with resentment. “Kaho saw a photo of you and me, and wanted to sell it to a tabloid for some quick cash. But the magazine said just that one photo wasn’t enough, so he suggested taking something more sensational.”

“A model banker doing such things? Who are you kidding?”

“Kaho isn’t a banker at all. I only found out after getting involved—he’s just a small-time loan shark. That bastard used my name to borrow a huge sum to gamble on horse racing, lost it all, and if I can’t get this fifty million, I’m ruined!” That’s why her dream of getting out had died and she was back in the business.

“So you thought of extorting me?”

“…”

“How much do you owe?”

“Eight million,” she replied lifelessly.

“Owe eight million, but try to extort fifty million from me. Quite an appetite,” Ye Zhao mocked.

“No, it’s eleven million and seventy thousand. Plus three million and seventy thousand in interest,” she gave a twisted laugh, plopped down on the ground, and lit a cigarette. “Kaho told me you’d come find me when the news broke—if I recorded what you said, whether you paid or not, selling the recording would still fetch a good price.”

“If I gave you the money, what would you do?”

“Take it and run, get away from that bastard Kaho for good,” she said without blinking. “But now, no money, no recording—I’ll just leave it to fate.”

“Can I ask what your last card is?” Ye Zhao suddenly asked.

She glanced at him but said nothing.

“I’m wondering if it’s really worth fifty million.”

“What do you mean?” She seemed to regain a bit of spirit.

Ye Zhao nodded. “Right. If it’s worth it, I’ll pay you.”

“And if I tell you, what if you go back on your word?”

“You’re in no position to bargain.” Ye Zhao smiled, producing a small recorder from his pocket. “What you just said is enough for a defamation suit.”

Ogawa Mika suddenly laughed. “Zhao, you’re so much harder to deal with than before. The old you would’ve agreed immediately, just to keep the peace.”

“And fallen right into your trap?”

Ignoring his sarcasm, she muttered, “The man in the fake photo is called Fujimoto Ryo. He used to run with Kaho’s gang. If you still have any old feelings, please don’t trick me…”

…

The cigarette shop hidden in a narrow alley had few customers apart from regulars. When Fujimoto Ryo returned, his grandmother was sitting hunched behind the tiny counter, just as she did every day. The sight always pricked his heart.

But that was all. After his father ran away, Fujimoto Ryo lived with his grandmother. Instead of understanding hardship, he succumbed to temptation, joining a biker gang in high school and becoming the kind of delinquent he once feared. To keep his grandmother from worrying, he held onto some decency—no flashy pompadour or shaved brows—so at first glance, he looked like any ordinary young man.

“Grandma, I’m back.” Fujimoto Ryo had barely opened the counter door when a sharp-eyed, pockmarked man with a buzz cut blocked him. “Fujimoto Ryo? I’d like a word.” The man nodded toward the alley’s entrance, where a gray sedan was parked. The person in the back rolled down the window and beckoned him over. Seeing the face, Fujimoto Ryo’s scalp tingled.

The man’s expression urged him on. His grandmother opened her cloudy eyes. “Ryo?”

“Just a coworker from the shop, needs something,” Fujimoto Ryo lied quickly and followed the man to the car. Once inside, the driver started the engine.

Ye Zhao sized up Fujimoto Ryo. While the front view wasn’t quite the same, the side profile was a seventy or eighty percent match—just enough, with some grooming and by avoiding a full face shot, to fool people.

“I’ll get straight to the point. Ogawa Mika told me you’re the man in the photo.”

Fujimoto Ryo’s heart skipped. He played dumb. “What photo?”

“Don’t try to fool me. Your side profile, hmm… it does look a bit like mine. But you both missed something.” Ye Zhao paused, baiting him. “If you look closely at those two photos, there’s a faint scar on the right side of the neck. Fujimoto, do I have such a scar?”

Instinctively, Fujimoto Ryo covered his neck, then checked Ye Zhao’s—sure enough, it was clear and unmarked. Not wanting to make things worse, he quickly lowered his head. “I’m truly sorry, Ye Zhao-san. I didn’t know this would cause such trouble.”

Nonsense. Underage smoking, compromising photos—any of these would be a career-ending scandal. He couldn’t not know. Ye Zhao snorted. “Do apologies fix anything? My life is already ruined. Fujimoto, maybe you don’t understand yet—people who are cornered are capable of anything.”

“Wh-what are you going to do?” Fujimoto Ryo stammered.

“So you do know how to be afraid?” Ye Zhao narrowed his eyes. “I’m not planning anything drastic—just a lawsuit. Let me see… thanks to you, my new single plummeted off the charts, and with my image ruined, advertisers are asking for breach-of-contract damages—about two hundred million yen. It’s only fair to ask you to compensate me.”

“Two… two hundred million?!” Fujimoto Ryo gasped, shrinking back.

“I’ve heard it’s just you and your grandmother at home. Not easy, is it? You wouldn’t want her to worry about you, right?”

Mentioning his grandmother, Fujimoto Ryo gave in and revealed his card. “Ye Zhao-san, if I can help clear your name, could you let me off?”

“Help me? The magazine’s photos already have flaws—we’re suing the weekly. What more could you possibly do?”

Fujimoto Ryo gritted his teeth. “Even so, it’s hard without decisive evidence, right?”

“You have some?”

“I do!” For a moment, his face twisted, then he exhaled heavily, as if relieved.

…

Oda Yuzo followed Fujimoto Ryo back to the cigarette shop. Seeing them return, his grandmother asked, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, I borrowed a book from him earlier—just returning it,” Fujimoto Ryo said, leading Oda Yuzo inside. Upstairs in his room, he opened a drawer and took out a roll of film. “Here’s the negative.”

Oda Yuzo was suspicious. Fujimoto Ryo turned on the light so he could check. Once he was sure the negatives were genuine, Oda Yuzo put them away. “Why did you swap the negatives?”

Fujimoto Ryo lowered his head. “I was planning to mail the negatives to Ye Zhao-san later, to earn some money.”

“If needed, you’ll have to testify,” Oda Yuzo said, then left alone.

…

“Fujimoto Ryo’s father, who ran away, was an amateur photographer and left him plenty of gear. After Kaho planned the photos, he had him develop them. When he gave the fake negatives and photos to Kaho, it was at the club—bad lighting, Kaho had been drinking, and since Fujimoto Ryo had always been loyal, he barely checked before burning them with a lighter,” Oda Yuzo relayed Fujimoto’s statement to Ye Zhao in the car.

Ye Zhao sneered. “He used fake photos to trip me up, so let him taste failure with fake negatives too.”

“By the way, you actually spotted the scar in the fake photo?”

“When I sized him up earlier, I noticed a scar on his neck, so I just bluffed.”

Oda Yuzo gave a thumbs up. “About Ogawa Mika’s recording—what do we do?”

Ye Zhao’s smile faded. “Keep the original, make a copy for Kaho Eisaku.”

“This…” Oda Yuzo hesitated.

“Mr. Oda, I know it’s a bit underhanded. But I can’t be foolish enough to show mercy to someone who’s tried to hurt me again and again.” Ye Zhao’s voice was calm as still water.

“I understand.” Oda Yuzo nodded.

…

Two days later.

At four in the morning, after a long night of work, Ogawa Mika dragged her weary body up the apartment stairs. As she inserted her key into the lock, the handle turned from the inside.

What greeted her was Kaho Eisaku’s demonic smile.