Minamoto Tamako had made her small dormitory quite cozy, with a tidy desk and a white plush carpet on the floor. A Rabbit Officer doll sat by her bedside, and both the sheets and quilt cover had matching patterns, printed with Chibi-style images of Anpanman.
Fushimi Roku helped her to the bathroom; she was as limp as if her bones had been removed. He patted Minamoto Tamako’s little face and asked how many bottles she’d had to drink. She was still vaguely conscious:
"Uh... half a glass..."
Fushimi thought to himself that getting drunk off half a glass of beer was proof that people’s constitutions couldn’t be generalized.
He casually grabbed a small folding stool, commonly known as a "small pony stool," and sat down grandly, letting Minamoto Tamako lie across his lap as if she were a child about to be spanked. Then he turned on the showerhead, checking the water temperature with his left hand.
Minamoto Tamako squirmed uncomfortably. She felt embarrassed by this position. Although a little dizzy, she wasn’t completely out of it, at least she didn’t feel drunk.
She tried to prop herself up, moving like a caterpillar on Fushimi Roku’s lap. Growing impatient, he pinched her nape. She couldn’t break free, so she calmed down.
Fushimi Roku adjusted the water temperature valve with the precision of a thief cracking a safe. In 1990, Japanese gas water heaters were at the forefront of global technology, and even solar water heaters were beginning to develop, but inexplicably, this control valve hadn’t changed in thirty years, always either too hot or too cold.
After finally adjusting to the right temperature, he aimed the shower at Minamoto Tamako’s hedgehog-like raised hair. She shivered instantly, shivering with an "eek," her body tensing and then completely relaxing.
Only then did Fushimi Roku remember that one shouldn’t shower in hot water after drinking, especially when in a semi-conscious state, as it could bring the intoxication to a head.
He reached out and poked Minamoto Tamako’s face. She hung on his lap like noodles, limp and without any reaction.
"You’re just and still try to drink, huh?"
Fushimi Roku muttered under his breath. He wet Minamoto Tamako’s hair, applied a lot of shampoo, and rubbed for over ten minutes before finally rinsing the gel out of her hair.
After finishing, he stripped her police uniform off her, tossed her onto the bed with her head hanging off the side, and used a hairdryer to dry her hair.
Amidst the wooing sound of warm air, Fushimi Roku vaguely heard Minamoto Tamako muttering in her sleep. He turned off the hairdryer, and her voice became clear.
"Kawai... I’ve troubled you again..." she said softly.
On reflection, Minamoto Tamako was already an adult, surely encountering occasions in social settings where she needed to drink. It seemed Kawai had always looked after her in the past, probably carrying her back to bed many times.
Fushimi Roku acknowledged with a sound but said nothing more.
He was about to turn the hairdryer back on when Minamoto Tamako started to cry softly. Her tears soaked into the duvet, her face buried in the covers, speaking in a muffled voice: "Can someone like me really become a famous police chief?"
"Everyone laughs at me... turns out ’麻破’ is an insult..."
"If it weren’t for Fushimi... I couldn’t do anything..."
Minamoto Tamako mumbled in her sleep for a while.
Fushimi Roku didn’t want to meddle further. There were countless young people in this world whose dreams were shattered, countless people who’s spirits had been worn down by reality. He had no interest in being a nanny; someone who can’t pick themselves up won’t be helped by him either.
He turned on the hairdryer and blew for quite a while. Maybe it was because the hot air burned his hand that he suddenly felt a bit irritable. After a moment, he turned off the hairdryer again and said: "Didn’t you say you wanted to be a famous detective and police chief?"
"Yes." Minamoto Tamako surprisingly responded.
"Is it because you want others to admire, praise, or respect you that you want to become a famous police chief?" Fushimi Roku asked.
"Then there you have it. What others think has nothing to do with you, right?" Fushimi Roku turned on the hairdryer once more with impatience: "Don’t let me hear you say such demoralizing things again."
"Got it." Minamoto Tamako’s voice became smaller.
A system prompt flashed before Fushimi Roku, indicating he had unlocked Level 1 "Psychological Guidance." Looks like his frequent comfort offered to Minamoto Tamako wasn’t entirely fruitless.
After drying her hair, he tucked Minamoto Tamako into bed. She was quite restless, clinging to Fushimi Roku’s arm with both hands and feet, mumbling about wanting to sleep with Kawai... Fushimi Roku had more important things to do and no time to be her human pillow, so he wrapped her up like a zongzi with the quilt, turned off the lights, and left the room.
Fushimi Roku stood at the door to his dormitory, glanced around, and pulled out his key to unlock the door. A piece of paper slipped from the door seam, and after checking the door hinge and finding the pen core intact, he confirmed that nobody had entered his room.
After ensuring safety, Fushimi Roku went back inside, locked the dormatory door, and retrieved a travel bag from the top of the wardrobe — the very bag he had brought when he reported for duty. He unzipped it, revealing a stack of 10,000-yen bills, neatly arranged.
This was the illicit money he had found at Nagashima Takeshi’s home.
The police certainly couldn’t trace this money because it was drug money from the Inakawa Association. As for how Nagashima took it, Fushimi Roku didn’t care at all, so he hadn’t asked many questions back then.
"Finally have the time to deal with this money, huh."
Fushimi Roku thought to himself, examining the bills under a fluorescent light to ensure there was no invisible ink or special markings, he then began counting the money.
He certainly knew holding the money carried the risk of exposure, but as the saying goes, fortune favors the bold, and he had done everything necessary, so there was no harm in taking this leap — Batman himself is a billionaire, and Robin Hood robbed the rich to aid the poor. According to RPG players, you clear a dungeon, you claim the gold, and that is only right!
In the midst of Fushimi Roku counting money, Watanabe Shun woke up.
He felt as if his head was submerged in water, groggy, his limbs numb.
After a good ten minutes, he came to and realized both his hands and feet were tied up, his mouth stuffed with cloth and taped over.
Surrounded by darkness, Watanabe Shun heard the sound of a car in motion, his body jolting with every bump. He wriggled around like a worm, realizing he was bagged inside a sack, effectively immobilized.
Watanabe Shun belatedly realized that the wet rag had been soaked in ether.
The captors were clearly targeting him, bold enough to even kidnap a police officer!
"Stay calm! Don’t panic!"
Watanabe Shun took a deep breath, thinking it was finally his turn to shine! Being the top aide to an elite criminal police officer, there’s no way he’d be easily bested by a few lackeys!
He gritted his teeth, grunted, and snapped his left thumb joint to free himself from his binds. Seizing the moment before the kidnappers stopped the vehicle, he untied the ropes around his feet, groping in the dark, but found his pager was missing, presumably taken by the kidnappers.
A screeching brake sound rang out, and as Watanabe Shun swayed with inertia, the vehicle suddenly came to a halt. The trunk lid popped open, and he heard footsteps approaching.