Tokyo: Are you even a proper lawyer?

Kenichi Nakajima sighed and continued.

"I agreed to let Sakura take the part-time job because...her family seemed to be struggling financially, and she was quiet and well-behaved. I just felt sorry for her and wanted to help her. Who would have thought it would turn out like this..."

Kenichi Nakajima sniffed, swallowed the rest of his words, and gave Masashi Akiyama and Rio Arimura an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry," he said. "As people get older, they tend to reminisce about the past, and the thought of Sakura-san passing away fills me with guilt."

"Of course you should feel guilty!"

A woman's voice, tinged with suppressed anger, abruptly interrupted him.

Rio Arimura finally couldn't hold back anymore. Listening to this culprit who drove Yuna to her death, pretending to be sad, distorting the facts, and even trying to label himself as a kind employer, she felt a surge of anger rush to her head.

The crying face she had never seen before, Rieko Uchida's desperate eyes, and the contents of the suicide note all swirled and intertwined in her mind.

"Arimura!" Masashi Akiyama turned sharply, his brow furrowed, and shouted sternly, "That's incredibly rude! Apologize to Mr. Nakajima!"

"I don't..." Rio Arimura only realized the stupid thing she had just done halfway through her rebuttal. She immediately lowered her head and bowed to Kenichi Nakajima, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Nakajima." Masashi Akiyama sighed helplessly, turned to Kenichi Nakajima, and softened his tone, "This girl is a new intern at the newspaper. She hasn't been in the workforce for long, and she doesn't think before she speaks or acts. She gets carried away and says whatever comes to mind. Please don't take it to heart. I'll definitely talk to her properly when I get back."

"Of course not." Kenichi Nakajima waved his hand. "Since that child passed away, many people who don't know the truth have come to my shop to cause trouble. I'm used to it. But as long as I explain the whole story, everyone will speak up for me."

"Is that so?" Masashi Akiyama nodded. He adjusted his glasses and said sincerely, "Mr. Nakajima has really had a tough time."

Kenichi Nakajima smiled and waved his hand, as if he was about to say something.

Masashi Akiyama's gaze, seemingly unintentionally, swept over the store's furnishings again, finally settling on the gray-painted iron door behind the cashier's counter next to Kenichi Nakajima.

The door looks ordinary, but the door handle is noticeably shinier than usual, and there is slight wear on the paint around the door frame.

"Where is this place?" Masashi Akiyama asked.

"Oh, you mean that?" Kenichi Nakajima followed his finger, his expression unchanged. "That's my office. I don't use it much, just for inventory, reconciliation, or temporarily storing things. It's a small place, a bit messy."

"I see." Masashi Akiyama nodded, his gaze sweeping over the security camera in the corner of the convenience store before he made a request to Kenichi Nakajima.

"Would you mind if we went inside and took a look?"

"Well, I don't mind," Kenichi Nakajima said, "but there's not much to see inside."

"Just a quick look." Masashi Akiyama held up his notebook, which he was constantly taking notes in. "I was just thinking that if the report could mention the store manager's daily work environment, it might give readers a more intuitive understanding of your usual situation and... dilute some of the excessive attention from the outside world to your personal space. What do you think?"

Kenichi Nakajima fell silent. He looked at Masashi Akiyama's sincere face, then glanced at the iron gate. His facial muscles tensed almost imperceptibly for a moment, but quickly relaxed again.

He smiled, his tone relaxed. "Alright, since that's what the reporter has to say, please wait a moment."

He walked to the iron gate and deftly unlocked it with his key. The click was particularly clear in the quiet shop.

The door was pushed open.

A whiff of air, thick with dust, old paper, and a faint musty smell, filled the room. The room was small, about ten square meters, and as Kenichi Nakajima had described, the furnishings were indeed sparse, bordering on rudimentary. There was an old wooden desk, a swivel chair, a metal filing cabinet, and several unopened cardboard boxes piled in the corner. There were no windows; the only light source was a dim energy-saving bulb overhead.

Masashi Akiyama entered first. His footsteps were light, but his gaze, like a searchlight, quickly swept across every corner of the room. The desktop, chairs, filing cabinet surfaces, walls, ceiling, floor…

Rio Arimura followed behind him, her heart pounding in her chest. This was…the place where Yuna was last lucid? That snowy night, was it here that she was forced to undress, enduring the agonizing torture of those disgusting gazes?

She felt nauseous and clenched her fists tightly.

Masashi Akiyama's gaze finally settled on the wall directly opposite the desk.

The walls were painted with cheap white paint, which had turned yellow and peeled in some places due to dampness and age.

At about waist height, there is an inconspicuous scratch, about the size of a palm.

The marks are fresh; the surrounding wall paint shows slight peeling and flaking, revealing a dark gray base coat beneath the white paint.

Furthermore, the shape of the marks was somewhat strange. They didn't resemble regular dents caused by the collision of tables and chairs, but rather messy marks left by repeated scraping and impacts from heels or hard objects during a struggle.

Masashi Akiyama and Rio Arimura exchanged a glance, then smiled and turned to Kenichi Nakajima with admiration, saying, "I've heard that Mr. Nakajima often donates money to various schools for financial aid. It seems he lives a very frugal life, as he hasn't even had time to repair the dents in the walls of his office."

Kenichi Nakajima chuckled twice: "Haha, you flatter me, Mr. Reporter. It's all my pleasure."

His gaze also quickly swept over the scratch, but he didn't seem to think it was anything to worry about.

It's perfectly normal for an old office wall to have some bumps and scratches.

He was more concerned with ending this segment as soon as possible.

"I've seen this office, and there's really nothing special about it," Kenichi Nakajima said, stepping aside to make way for the doorway and gesturing for people to enter.

"This place is small; it's a bit crowded for three people to stand here. Sir, shall we go outside to talk? I'll make you a cup of tea, and we can discuss it slowly."

"Okay, thank you for your help." Masashi Akiyama nodded readily, his face still bearing a warm smile.

He gestured for Kenichi Nakajima to go first, his manner polite and considerate.

Kenichi Nakajima seemed to appreciate this respect. A hint of smugness flashed across his face as he nodded, turned around first, and walked out of the office with his head held high.

Masashi Akiyama followed closely behind.

Rio Arimura, who was at the back, quickly took out her phone the moment the two figures disappeared outside the door, put it on silent, aimed it at the scratch mark on the wall, and swiftly pressed the shutter.

"Click."