Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner-Chapter 811 - 492: A Good Show
Kensaka Takataro sat on the chapel’s long bench, surrounded by a sea of people.
The curtains were tightly closed, and the surroundings were dimly lit, filled with a symphony of murmurs.
Kensaka Takataro could understand the mood of the others. He too harbored a complex emotion, unable to resist crossing his arms and shaking his leg, glancing around nervously.
Two days ago, his first reaction upon receiving the invitation was to think it was just a prank.
It wasn’t until he boarded a private plane, arrived at the Hokkaido Police Academy, and sat inside the freshly completed chapel, inhaling the faint trace of formaldehyde wafting in the air, that he truly believed this wasn’t a prank.
There really was a couple who invited all of Japan’s famous detectives and renowned authors to their wedding—not with a red carpet, not with toasting speeches, nor with a banquet, but to solve a murder case.
The detective who finds the decisive evidence and constructs a flawless logical chain would receive a monetary reward of 10 million yen.
That was 10 million yen!
After the financial bubble burst, private investigators, unlike authors, lived day to day, struggling for survival. Having work was a blessing, and they dared not dream of earning big money.
Now, 10 million was laid out before them; securing that could afford him two decent apartments in Tokyo or allow him to retire early and enjoy life.
Kensaka Takataro scratched at the label of his suit. He didn’t know what lay ahead; there was a vague worry that this ’wedding’ might not go as planned.
"Hey, stop shaking your leg," someone whispered from behind.
"Sorry," Kensaka Takataro didn’t turn around.
"Huh?" The person behind seemed surprised, reaching forward to pat his shoulder and tentatively asked, "Takataro?"
Kensaka Takataro turned around; the light was too dim for him to recognize who it was behind him: "Sorry, you are..."
"I’m Tsuboi Michiaki, don’t you remember? We did some business together before," the man said.
Kensaka Takataro was briefly stunned. He did have an impression of this guy; rather, most people in the circle found him memorable.
Because Tsuboi Michiaki was a conman.
This guy founded a company called "Credit Investigation," monthly spreading advertisements, promoting the image of a ’famous detective’ across various newspapers and TV stations, thus gaining more fame than other detectives.
Kensaka Takataro had dealings with him.
At the time, Kensaka had just retired from the police force, lost in life, unsure of what to do next, drinking his days away.
Tsuboi Michiaki found him through a headhunter, saying he had a job for him, but it turned out to be a sweatshop. He was tasked with menial jobs, outsourcing labor, receiving meager wages, with no insurance, and often working overtime.
He tolerated it for two or three months, unable to bear it any longer, he applied for resignation but didn’t receive any severance pay, and more than half of his salary was deducted, essentially losing money on the job.
Later, Kensaka Takataro learned that this guy conned not just anyone, but specifically targeted retired criminal police.
Tsuboi Michiaki recruited retired criminal police with no life’s purpose, assigning them dirty, exhausting tasks under the guise of investigative missions, taking commissions, and not having to pay compensation after resignation—in name, a detective agency, but in reality, a labor dispatch company.
At least half of the detectives present had been deceived by him.
Unexpectedly, this guy showed up too.
Kensaka Takataro felt a surge of disgust and immediately turned his head away.
He didn’t want to engage with this man, convinced that the reputation of ’detectives’ was tarnished by people like him.
But Tsuboi Michiaki was relentless, continuing to pat him on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear and asking, "Hey, Takataro, do you think this is reliable?"
"I don’t know," Kensaka Takataro didn’t want to talk to him.
"How could you not know? Aren’t you a criminal police? You should have some professional integrity," Tsuboi Michiaki nudged him and said, "For old time’s sake, give me a professional criminal police’s judgment..."
"There’s nothing between us worth remembering." Kensaka Takataro swatted his hand away.
Tsuboi Michiaki was thick-skinned: "Let’s not dwell on the past, just say something, any opinion will do."
Kensaka Takataro, annoyed and unable to get rid of this pesky fly, decided to say something random to brush him off: "It’s unreliable. The law doesn’t allow withholding evidence, and the Police Department’s files can’t be leaked."
"So?" Tsuboi Michiaki asked.
"So this is probably just a farce. I suggest you head back early," Kensaka Takataro urged.
"Even if it’s a farce, it’s quite interesting, isn’t it? It’s like playing house with a wealthy heiress, and the best player gets the prize money," Tsuboi Michiaki rubbed his hands together.
"Playing house doesn’t grant 10 million yen prizes," Kensaka Takataro felt a chill run through him.
"Not necessarily, the bride and groom don’t look like they’re short on cash. You still have a narrow view, haven’t seen the high society. To the wealthy, money isn’t really money; casually throwing away tens of millions is just daily life."
Tsuboi Michiaki slicked back his oily hair; he fancied himself as part of the elite class.
Kensaka Takataro thought this guy would cause trouble, was about to say something when the chapel suddenly lit up with lights. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦
A row of spotlights shined on the podium; without any prompt, everyone instinctively held their breath, raising their heads, their gaze focused on a man and a woman on stage.
The man appeared young, no more than twenty-five or twenty-six, tall, dressed in a black trench coat, leaning on a cane, looking like a model stepping straight off a runway;
The girl was overly youthful, seemingly only seventeen or eighteen, feigning maturity, wearing a Sherlock-style cloak, donning a brown beret, with her small hand holding a pipe.
