Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner-Chapter 790 - 480: Salvation Lies in Turning Back_2
"Hm, what else?" Horie Kei took out a notebook to jot down notes.
"What else?" Fushimi Roku was taken aback and glanced at Horie Kei again. This kid wasn’t bad-looking, with fair skin, definitely able to live off his looks—unlike Watanabe Shun, who would spit sourly at the mention of ’good-looking.’
It’s a human flaw to fancy oneself a teacher, and Fushimi Roku wasn’t immune. He pretended to think for a while and continued, "Another thing is character; you have to have good character for love to last long."
Horie Kei let out an "Oh~," his tone filled with admiration.
Fushimi Roku felt good about himself; it had been a long time since anyone believed his nonsense. Whenever he mentioned ’good character,’ Kazama Tatsuya and the others would click their tongues in disdain.
"And you gotta have money, understand? Love without material support is like a handful of loose sand; no matter how tightly you squeeze, it won’t hold together," Fushimi Roku quoted a classic saying from a past life.
Horie Kei paused his writing: "But it’s because I have no money that I..."
Fushimi Roku shook his head, saying, "Then I can’t help you; sometimes you need to be more down-to-earth." He patted Horie Kei on the shoulder, "To be honest, I’m actually a multimillionaire, so I can date a rich heiress."
"Ah, is bond trading that profitable?" Horie Kei was surprised.
"Have you read the financial news?" Fushimi Roku withdrew his hand, and the smile vanished from his face.
"Yes, I did, but I didn’t care—those things seem distant to me, unlike love, which feels more tangible," Horie Kei replied.
"The newspapers are full of slander, with subjective bias, obviously inserting their agendas! All my dealings are legal! The Financial Bureau hasn’t said anything, but the financial news is meddling?" Fushimi Roku was displeased.
"Well, I actually don’t care about this..." Horie Kei took a step back, clearly regretting starting the conversation.
Fushimi Roku didn’t feel like chatting any longer; he waved his hand, casually said goodbye, and turned to leave.
The rest of the way was peaceful, no one followed him, and Fushimi Roku got home safely without any incidents. While drinking with Watanabe Shun, he pondered whether he should take more walks, create more opportunities for solitude, and give the killer a chance to strike.
Staying cooped up at home all the time, the killer might not even have a chance to kill him.
Watanabe Shun drank until one o’clock before passing out drunk. Fushimi Roku went to take a shower because he reeked of alcohol, and as a result, Minamoto Tamako didn’t want to sleep with him, so they slept in separate rooms tonight.
The mansion was big enough, with plenty of rooms for everyone to have their own space.
Early the next morning, Fushimi Roku was awakened by the ringing of his phone. Without looking at it, he hung up. A few seconds later, the phone rang again, persistent as if refusing to stop until answered.
Fushimi Roku hadn’t slept for eight hours yet and was annoyed. Groggy with sleep, he picked up the phone and grumbled, "Hello? Who’s this?"
"This is Murata An," said the voice on the other end.
Fushimi Roku was almost awake immediately. Murata An was the leader of the Special Investigation Department, fully in charge of the serial murder case. He rubbed his eyes and discreetly cleared his throat, trying to make himself sound fully alert: "Good morning, Chief. I was just on surveillance duty with Minamoto Tamako on a suspect. It was my turn to sleep just now..."
"How’s the investigation of Mizutani Rika’s social circle going?" Murata An interrupted.
Fushimi Roku hadn’t done any investigation, but he believed Minamoto Tamako had already conducted a thorough investigation, so he confidently replied, "It’s all clear and ready for a report anytime."
"Alright, meeting in half an hour at the police station conference room to report and discuss the investigation direction... Make sure to notify Officer Yuan," Murata An instructed before hanging up.
Fushimi Roku didn’t get out of bed. He closed his eyes again and called Minamoto Tamako while lying down. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢
Minamoto Tamako’s biological clock was very punctual; at this time, she was already up and brushing her teeth. When she heard the ringtone of her pink flip phone, she answered with a toothbrush in her mouth, "Moshi moshi?"
"Chief Murata said there’s a meeting in half an hour in the police station conference room. Make sure to attend and, by the way, ask for sick leave for me."
Fushimi Roku said it all in one breath, and without waiting for Minamoto Tamako’s response, he hung up decisively, collapsing into his pillow like a dead pig.
"What? Half an hour!!"
Minamoto Tamako exclaimed, hastily rinsed her mouth, and scrambled to change clothes. She also knocked on Fushimi Roku’s door, urging him to get up and go to work.
Initially, Fushimi Roku thought about lazing around until Minamoto Tamako yelled, "If you don’t go to work, isn’t it like proving that what they said on the show is true?"
That finally got Fushimi Roku out of bed.
The half-hour was tight, and with Fushimi Roku having dawdled in bed for a while, there wasn’t time for him to brush his teeth or wash his face. He had to use an old trick: put a trench coat over his pajamas, put on socks, and head out the door.
Before leaving, Fushimi Roku poured a cup of water and splashed it on Watanabe Shun’s crotch, saying to the sleeping Watanabe Shun, "I’m getting up now, proving the show was spreading false rumors!"
Unfortunately, Watanabe Shun was still drunk. Even if he were splashed on the face, he wouldn’t have reacted.
On the drive to the police station, Fushimi Roku muttered to himself with pride for getting up early for work:
"People who get up at this hour are future stars, pillars of the nation, the city’s lights in urban novels, epitomes of excellence in idioms, the self-discipline examplars from ’Examine myself thrice a day,’ kings of the jungle in nature, scorners of all ugliness and evil, creators of all beauty and good... It makes me proud and thrilled to breathe the same air as these excellent people."
Minamoto Tamako sat in the passenger seat, nibbling on a sandwich, which she had bought from a convenience store on her way downstairs for breakfast.
She mumbled a complaint, "But you were supposed to take sick leave this morning."
"Shh!" Fushimi Roku put a finger to his lips, "Did I take it? The process isn’t important; what matters is the result. Now, am I not on my way to work? This proves I’m a diligent criminal police officer."
"But this is only your first day trying to get up early for work," Minamoto Tamako had a different definition of ’diligence’ than Fushimi Roku did.
"That’s not important; what matters is that a prodigal son is worth more than gold when he turns back," Fushimi Roku casually remarked, "Like the guy I met last night—even if he killed, as long as he truly repents, society is willing to give him a second chance."
"Who?" Minamoto Tamako was taken aback, "Someone we had dinner with last night?"
"No, an old acquaintance I ran into while buying beer, you don’t know him," Fushimi Roku said offhandedly.
"You have old acquaintances I don’t know?" Minamoto Tamako became more suspicious, stopping mid-chew, her ’lie detector hair’ on full alert.
Fushimi Roku briefly explained how he knew Horie Kei and reiterated, "I just said it, it’s not important; what’s important is that I got up early for work today."
Minamoto Tamako was silent for a moment, her gaze unfocused as if deep in thought.
Fushimi Roku was still babbling away, praising early risers and belittling late-risers, calling them ’lazy dogs, wastrels, maggots, monsters, cockroaches, sewer rats...’
In Minamoto Tamako’s eyes, Fushimi Roku’s voice faded, and she could only see his mouth moving, without hearing a word.
A sudden screech of brakes brought Minamoto Tamako back to reality, her body jolting, and she realized her nose was bleeding.
She was having a nosebleed again.
Fushimi Roku noticed something was wrong with Minamoto Tamako and quickly slammed on the brakes, asking, "What’s wrong?"
Minamoto Tamako wiped her nose with a little hand and seriously said, "It’s not important! Turn around, and go find that Horie Kei guy!"
Fushimi Roku was startled; it took him two seconds to figure it out—more accurately, he only just realized that last night he hadn’t noticed the criminal index above Horie Kei’s head.
