Chapter 52: Then, I Cannot Help But Ask

There is practically no man that Shoichi cannot have if he sets his mind to it.

Since Toru Amuro is currently playing hard to get, it is best to leave him alone for a while. Without a doubt, this guy will eventually change his mind and come back.

Instead of having dinner with Ai today, Shoichi went to visit his old man.

Saburo Sumitomo was sitting on the sofa as usual, cuddling a cat while watching the newly released *The Ring*.

"Your movie promotion is truly inhumane."

"Huh?" Shoichi looked confusedly at his biological father.

Saburo said, "The price of the promotion was a human life. You're being far too reckless."

Shoichi sat down next to his biological father and said with dissatisfaction, "I didn't kill anyone. I just happened to be there at the right time. That person's death has nothing to do with me whatsoever."

Saburo gave his son a deep look. "Killing people like this is..."

"Let me say this again, I did not kill anyone," Shoichi interrupted.

The police themselves said I didn't kill anyone. On what grounds are you trying to convict me?

"Whatever." Saburo shook his head.

Once he becomes thoroughly despised and resented by everyone in Japan, he would just find an opportunity to ship him off to Europe or America.

"Take good care of yourself," Saburo said.

Those who kill others will eventually be killed themselves.

Shoichi nodded.

The public security in Beika has always been worrisome; Shoichi felt that he really ought to assemble a security team.

After all, he is now a well-known, conscientious entrepreneur, and he needs to mind his safety.

Saburo stroked the cat's paw and said to Shoichi, "You should head back to the family estate as well. Your eldest uncle is about to celebrate his birthday."

"He lost that much money; can he even be having a good time?" Shoichi curled his lips in disdain.

Having lost a fortune shorting copper mines, Shoichi genuinely worried that his eldest uncle might die of a heart attack, just like that poor Takeshita.

"Money lost can always be earned back. You shouldn't let financial losses ruin your life," Saburo remarked.

He glanced at Shoichi and said earnestly, "Whatever you do, never treat your family the way you treat other people."

"I treat everyone with sincerity," Shoichi replied.

Saburo's mouth twitched.

Your "sincerity" is precisely what sent all those people straight to the crematorium.

"In short, family members cannot be killed."

Shoichi looked at his old man with a strange expression. "What kind of person do you take me for? Would I ever raise a butcher's knife against my own family?"

Hard to say.

"Anyway, if you lay a hand on any family members, the police in Osaka won't help you cover up the truth," Saburo warned.

Come to think of it, it was rather strange.

The Sumitomo family had not actually provided Shoichi with any official, high-level assistance.

Saburo had even asked his old classmate who serves as the Mayor of Tokyo, and that man had received no notification from the Metropolitan Police Department either.

Therefore, those guys at the Metropolitan Police Department must be Shoichi's own personally cultivated loyal subordinates.

Oddly enough, he felt a sense of parental pride, as if watching his own child finally grow up.

Shoichi shook his head. He was pure and untainted; the police would never give him a hard time.

"Aren't you going back?" Shoichi asked.

"No, I'm still serving my prison sentence here," Saburo replied with a shake of his head.

"Heh."

...

Toru Amuro looked at the corpse on the floor, sensing that the matter was far from simple.

Just as Shoichi had failed to recruit him, his café manager had turned up dead.

Moreover, the detective who came to solve the case was none of other than the "Sleeping Kogoro." When all these coincidences were strung together, the underlying truth became glaringly obvious.

Yet, as a Public Security police officer, Toru Amuro found himself utterly unable to connect the murderer to Shoichi based on the known clues.

"Kazami, investigate a guy named Shoichi Sumitomo. See what he's been up to lately—"

"Senior Furuya, that's not a person we can just investigate casually."

...

"Pack your things, I'm taking you to Osaka tomorrow," Shoichi told Ai.

"What are we going to Osaka for?" Ai asked.

"To take you back to your ancestral roots."

"Huh?"

Ai looked at Shoichi in confusion. Could it be that "Haibara Ai's" hometown was in Osaka?

Although Osaka was the stronghold of the Sumitomo clan, Shoichi always lacked a sense of security in that city.

He instructed Yuko, "Arrange a lucky draw for Ran and make sure she wins the grand prize: a free one-week family vacation package to Osaka."

"Understood."

Only after giving these instructions did Shoichi feel somewhat at ease.

With the God of Death and his family accompanying them, he wouldn't have to worry about being bullied by anyone.

This trip to Osaka would also serve as a great opportunity to launch the *Justice Daily* there.

Once they managed to establish a firm foothold in the two major metropolises of Tokyo and Osaka, they would quickly be able to expand their influence nationwide.

"Hello, Matsushita."

"Boss."

Editor-in-Chief Matsushita answered his boss's call furtively from inside his office at the *Justice Daily*.

"It's time for our expedition to Osaka," Shoichi said.

"Yes!"

Matsushita then added, "However, our newspaper circulation has hit a bottleneck. Continuing to insult you might not help boost sales anymore. Besides, without quality content, expanding the newspaper agency is going to be quite troublesome."

"Don't you worry about that; I'll write the quality content myself," Shoichi stated.

During this upward career trajectory, the boss himself still needed to put in some extra effort.

Shoichi knew nothing about journalism.

However, he did know a few unorthodox, devious techniques.

He fetched a sheet of paper and began writing right there on the living room table.

The hook of the article still revolved around Shoichi himself.

*‘Recently, an American friend of mine shared a story with me.’*

*‘The governor of California's son accidentally injured a classmate while playing basketball and stubbornly refused to admit his mistake.’*

*‘After the police were called, the California governor's son merely had to pay financial compensation and apologize to the classmate, serving a mere three days of detention.’*

*‘That friend of mine is a man with a strong sense of justice.’*

*‘Seeing what happened, he was extremely furious, so he kept asking me—’*

*‘My friend, does the governor's son enjoy such privileges in Japan as well? It was clearly supposed to be a five-day detention, yet it was somehow reduced to just three.’*

*‘I smiled and said nothing.’*

*‘I thought of Shoichi Sumitomo. Everyone knows he committed murder, yet no one punishes him. He continues to live just fine, as if he had never killed anyone at all.’*

*‘Both are nations ruled by law, and both involve members of the upper class committing crimes.’*

*‘The starkly different ways these matters were handled makes me compelled to ask...’*

After finishing the piece, Shoichi went to the bathroom to rinse his eyes.

How sickening. It's hard to believe I actually wrote this garbage.

"Yuko."

"Coming."

"Deliver this manuscript to the newspaper office. Tell Matsushita to publish it, and have him write more articles like this in the future," Shoichi instructed.

"Alright."

This was the fifth year since the bursting of the economic bubble, and with the crisis of the housing loan companies erupting once again this year, public trust in the government and the financial system was collapsing.

It was precisely a time when national self-confidence was at a low ebb.

News like this should sell a decent number of copies, right?

Shoichi didn't understand journalism.

He could only rely on crooked paths.