Tokyo: Are you even a proper lawyer?

Dusk was falling outside the glass doors of the family restaurant.

Rieko Uchida's departing figure gradually shrank on the street, eventually disappearing around the corner.

Masashi Akiyama and Maki Suzuki were still sitting in the booth.

The coffee on the table had gone cold, and the milk foam had condensed into unsightly spots on the surface.

Maki Suzuki picked up her cup of milk tea, which had long since gone cold, and took small sips.

Her gaze fell on the window, watching the streetlights light up one by one, casting a warm yellow glow in the deepening twilight.

Then she suddenly spoke, her voice very soft, as if talking to herself:

"That child... was bullied terribly by you, Mr. Akiyama."

Akiyama did not answer immediately.

He was organizing the documents on the table, putting the copy of Uchida's testimony into his briefcase, his movements methodical and orderly.

"Is that so?" he said casually, without looking up.

Maki Suzuki turned her head and looked at him.

"First came the threat, then the gesture of goodwill, and finally an option that couldn't be refused... Mr. Akiyama, you are truly adept at manipulating people's hearts."

Akiyama zipped up his briefcase, looked up, and adjusted his glasses.

"I simply gave her a choice. Stay and continue to be bullied by Fukuda, ruining her future. Or stand up, testify against Fukuda, and gain her freedom. The choice is hers."

"But you deleted the recording," Maki Suzuki said. "What if she changes her mind..."

"Will she change her mind?" Akiyama interrupted her. "Ayaka Fukuda slapped her in the face today, in front of everyone. What will she do tomorrow? The day after? Rieko Uchida isn't stupid; she knows which path leads to survival."

He paused, picked up the ice water on the table, and took a sip.

"As for the recording... I deleted the copy from my phone. But there's a backup in the cloud, and the family restaurant's security camera also captured the entire meeting. You can never have too much evidence."

Maki Suzuki paused for a moment, then gave a wry smile.

"You really are... very well prepared."

Masashi Akiyama ignored Maki Suzuki's words.

"With Uchida-san's help, we don't have to worry about reconstructing the true testimonies of our classmates."

He started a new topic, "But that's not enough. The CCTV footage provided by Fukuda is likely just edited clips. We need professional assistance to restore the complete CCTV recordings."

Upon hearing this, Suzuki Maki immediately looked up.

"If you could give me a copy of the original surveillance footage," she leaned forward, placing her hands clasped together on the table, "I could try to find someone to recover it."

Meeting Akiyama's slightly scrutinizing gaze, Suzuki Maki gave a wry smile.

"Please don't look at me like that, Mr. Akiyama." She pointed to herself, her voice lowering. "Although I may look like this... I'm actually a journalist. It's quite normal to know all sorts of people in this industry."

Masashi Akiyama was silent for two seconds.

"I understand." He finally nodded. "Since you're confident, I'll leave this part to you. I'll send the copy of the surveillance footage to your email by noon tomorrow."

"OK."

Maki Suzuki took out a notepad and pen from her canvas bag, quickly wrote down an email address, tore off the page, and handed it to Akiyama.

Her handwriting was neat and tidy, but it had the slightly messy shorthand style typical of journalists.

Akiyama took the note, folded it, and put it in his suit pocket. Then he glanced at his watch; the metal dial gleamed coldly under the light, and the hands pointed to 6:20 p.m.

"Ms. Suzuki, that's enough for today." He stood up, picked up his dark gray trench coat draped over the back of the chair, and said, "Next, I need to organize the evidence, prepare the legal documents to terminate the engagement, and communicate with the firm... Time is tight."

Maki Suzuki quickly stood up, put her hands at her sides, and bowed deeply to Akiyama.

"I really...thank you so much." Her voice trembled slightly. "Mr. Akiyama, I'm entrusting my brother's matter to you."

"It's my duty."

Akiyama nodded, his tone indifferent.

He put on his trench coat, buttoning it up one button at a time with unhurried movements.

Then he picked up the briefcase and checked that the zipper was tight.

As he turned to leave, he paused.

Masashi Akiyama turned to the side, his gaze falling on Maki Suzuki's face.

"Ms. Suzuki."

Maki Suzuki looked up at him with some confusion.

Masashi Akiyama paused for two seconds, as if he was carefully choosing his words.

Then he said the words that made Suzuki Maki freeze in place:

"If you feel sorry for that child, don't forget that you were just sitting here watching me put pressure on her. Strictly speaking, you are also one of the perpetrators."

"You hate that child, don't you?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Akiyama stopped and turned to push open the glass door of the restaurant.

The copper bell on the door rang out with a clear, tinkling sound, and a cold wind blew in from outside, lifting the hem of his trench coat.

Then his figure disappeared into the deepening twilight, his footsteps fading into the distance and eventually swallowed up by the noise of the street.

Maki Suzuki stood still, motionless.

She stared at the door, at the flowing night and lights outside, and didn't look away for a long time.

Then she slowly sat down and returned to her seat by the window.

On the table, three empty coffee cups stood quietly, with dark brown stains remaining at the bottom.

Her glass had gone cold, with a thin layer of grease on the surface.

Maki Suzuki lowered her head and looked at her clasped hands.

The fingers were slender with distinct knuckles, and the nails were trimmed very short with thin calluses on the edges from years of typing.

These are the hands of a journalist, hands that uncover the truth and type on a keyboard.

Just now, when I heard Rieko Uchida's false confessions, my hand clenched into a fist.

She closed her eyes.

The face of Rieko Uchida came to mind.

Those swollen, red eyes, those trembling lips, and those carefully crafted lines delivered with a sobbing tone.

"I didn't mean to," "I really didn't know it would turn out like this," "I was just so scared"...

Every line was so realistic, and every expression was so spot-on.

If it weren't for Masashi Akiyama's incisive questioning, Maki Suzuki would almost have believed that he was just an innocent bystander coerced by Ayaka Fukuda.

However, Maki Suzuki is a reporter.

She has met too many people, heard too many stories, and distinguished too much truth from falsehood.

Her professional instincts told her at that moment that Rieko Uchida was neither a simple victim nor a coerced bystander.

She is somewhere between a participant and an observer.

They are the kind of people who, despite being hurt themselves, are eager to drag others down with them—the worst kind of people.

Suzuki Maki opened her eyes.

She gazed at her reflection in the glass.

A pale face, swollen red eyes, and disheveled hair. The woman in the reflection looked haggard and fragile, as if she might collapse at any moment.

"That child..."

She murmured to herself, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible, like a feather falling onto the water.

"Of course I hate her."