Tokyo: Are you even a proper lawyer?

"Akiyama-san! Akiyama-san!"

Ayaka Fukuda's sweet, coquettish voice clung to him. She reached out and gently shook Masashi Akiyama's arm, her tone full of grievance, "Why are you ignoring me?"

Masashi Akiyama lowered his eyes and subtly pulled his arm out of the girl's fragrant and soft embrace. The girl pouted in dissatisfaction and then turned to look at Maki Suzuki.

"Hey, ma'am, what are you still doing sitting here? Disturbing someone's date is a crime punishable by death!"

Behind Ayaka Fukuda, Masashi Akiyama had already picked up the crudely made teddy bear and neatly stuffed it into his briefcase.

Fortunately, the doll was old and small, and once it was stuffed inside, the outline of the briefcase didn't look out of place at all.

Upon seeing this, Suzuki Maki's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed. Her lips trembled, and she was about to speak when Akiyama Masashi stopped her with a look.

Masashi Akiyama didn't look at her again. Instead, he raised his hand and made a shushing gesture in front of his mouth.

Maki Suzuki quickly looked away.

Of course she knew that with Ayaka Fukuda present, this was not the place for a detailed discussion.

As for Mr. Akiyama's willingness to accept that "evidence," Suzuki Maki considered it a very good outcome.

She grabbed the canvas bag beside her and bowed deeply to Masashi Akiyama.

The bow was very deep, with the head almost touching the knees, and it was held for two or three seconds before straightening up.

Then she turned and walked away quickly, her canvas bag swaying beside her, the sound of her heels tapping on the wooden floor somewhat chaotic, gradually fading into the doorbell and jazz music.

Ayaka Fukuda watched Maki Suzuki's hurried departure, a smug smile playing on her lips.

Then she leaned against Akiyama again. This time she leaned even closer, almost resting half her body on his arm.

The fabric of the school uniform shirt was very thin, and you could feel the girl's warm body temperature.

"Akiyama-san," she drawled, tracing circles on the back of his hand with her finger, "So that's the type of woman you like? Your taste is terrible~"

She paused, her pink tongue licking her lower lip, leaving a moist sheen.

"but……"

She pulled her neckline down a little further, revealing a patch of fair skin that shimmered like pearls under the warm yellow light. "We can go to Akiyama-san's apartment. Let me help you improve your aesthetic sense regarding women...?"

Masashi Akiyama's heart sank.

He was handsome and dashing from a young age, and was never short of girls who showed interest in him.

He had never met anyone as bold, straightforward, and undisguised in their desires as Ayaka Fukuda before.

Moreover, she was his client, a victim who claimed to have been assaulted by an adult male.

Masashi Akiyama's gaze swept over the innermost corner of the cafe.

The room is dimly lit and separated from the other seats by a low screen. Unless you make a lot of noise, the staff will never look this way.

He had noticed on his way here that the surveillance cameras on this street had been broken at some point, and there was a yellowed repair notice posted on the utility pole at the street corner.

This is a true blind spot for surveillance.

Masashi Akiyama slowly turned to the side.

His movements were slow, like a slow-motion scene in a movie.

Leaning forward, she braced her arm against the wall beside her, with her other hand resting on the edge of the coffee table.

This position completely confines her to the triangular space formed by the seat and the wall.

A shadow fell.

Ayaka Fukuda was completely enveloped in his shadow.

Masashi Akiyama was tall and hunched over, his shoulders and back taut beneath his shirt.

He blocked most of the light, leaving only ambiguous shadows on Ayaka Fukuda's face.

"Fukuda-san," he said softly and slowly, "I can understand that you want to take our relationship further, is that right?"

Ayaka Fukuda, who was held in his arms, showed no fear whatsoever; instead, her breathing became even more rapid.

She tilted her head back, her cheeks flushed an unnatural red.

"Akiyama-san..."

She let out a soft moan, her voice utterly tender, "You can do whatever you want to me... you can..."

"Fukuda-san is so cute."

As Masashi Akiyama spoke, he raised his hand and lightly touched her cheek.

His fingers didn't actually touch her skin; they hovered in the air a centimeter away, slowly sliding down along the contours of her face.

My fingertips finally stopped above her lips, which were covered in lip gloss, and I could feel her warm breath.

Then continue downwards, across the chin, over the neck, and finally stop below the collarbone, where the shirt collar is open.

His fingertips were slightly cool, and when they touched the girl's warm skin, Ayaka Fukuda squinted her eyes comfortably.

"The thought that a man named Kento Suzuki touched you like that... even I can't help but feel jealous."

Ayaka Fukuda's expression froze.

A crack appeared in that sweet, alluring mask.

Guilt, anger, and a mix of other emotions surged in her eyes.

Her lips unconsciously turned down, and her nostrils flared slightly—the most instinctive defensive reaction of humankind.

But it only lasted for less than two seconds.

She smiled knowingly again, reached out and hooked her hand around Akiyama Masashi's tie, giving it a gentle tug: "Don't mention that spoilsport, Akiyama-san... just look at me."

After saying that, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back slightly, pouted her lips, and assumed a posture of waiting for a kiss.

Eyelashes cast fine shadows under the eyes, trembling slightly.

one second.

two seconds.

three seconds.

The kiss I had hoped for never came.

Fukuda felt the pressure on her body suddenly disappear, and she opened her eyes in confusion.

Masashi Akiyama was already standing two steps away, pulling the crumpled 1,000 yen bill from under his coffee cup.

His movements were unhurried, and he even had the leisure to straighten the cuffs of his shirt.

"Akiyama-san?"

A hint of uncertainty finally crept into Fukuda's voice.

Masashi Akiyama did not answer.

He walked to the coat rack, took off his gray overcoat, and slowly put it on, buttoning it up one button at a time.

Then I picked up my briefcase and checked if the zipper was tight.

Throughout the entire process, he didn't look at Ayaka Fukuda even once more.

"etc--"

Ayaka Fukuda stood up, the chair legs scraping loudly on the floor.

But Masashi Akiyama had already pushed open the glass door of the cafe.

A gust of cold wind blew in from outside the door, ruffling the stray hairs on Ayaka Fukuda's forehead.

She stood there, frozen in her half-up position, and it took her a few seconds to fully understand what had happened.

I've been tricked.

They were completely and ruthlessly played.

"Masashi Akiyama—!"

The screams shattered the tranquility of the café.

"You bastard!!"

She kicked the chair away in a fit of rage and tried to rush out.

"This guest."

A soft female voice sounded beside me.

Ayaka Fukuda turned her head and saw that the waitress dressed as a maid was already standing by the table.

She bowed slightly, her face still bearing the standard sweet smile.

"Your bill hasn't been settled yet."

Ayaka Fukuda froze.

She looked down at herself: a thin school uniform jacket, a short skirt, and over-the-knee socks.

He had no pockets on his body, and naturally no wallet.

She always relied on boys to treat her to meals or to give her pocket money from older men; she never carried her own money when she went out.

"I...I'll wait a minute..."

"Wait a minute?" The maid tilted her head.

"Sir, you're not thinking of... reneging on your bill, are you?"