A relatively quick-witted subordinate, perhaps wanting to help the section chief verify the card’s authenticity, or perhaps simply because she was standing close by, took advantage of the moment Kiryu Kazusuke raised his hand to snatch the business card pinched between his fingers.
【House of Representatives Member Okawara Genta】
The typeface had been specially commissioned from a calligrapher and then made into a plate—just a few simple characters.
Below was also a handwritten private contact number, a direct line obtainable only by the innermost core circle.
The paper itself was neither ordinary coated stock nor standard business card paper. It was Echizen washi, whose unique texture and warm, supple feel were reserved only for high-end custom cards.
Not to mention the gold-embossed family crest.
The subordinate’s face turned pale.
She worked in clerical affairs and was sensitive to premium paper and printing. This was absolutely not some cheap counterfeit a street-side print shop could fake.
"Section Chief…"
She hurriedly retreated to Section Chief Yoshino’s side, lowered her voice, and relayed her assessment.
After hearing only a few sentences, Section Chief Yoshino’s reason began to return.
The current economic climate was a quagmire, and rumors of staff cuts were already circulating at City Hall. Everyone was living on pins and needles.
Regardless of whether this card had been picked up by the drunkard or whether he truly had connections, merely imagining the possible consequences made her feel as though a noose was already around her neck, ready to tighten at any moment.
She didn’t dare gamble. Not one bit.
By now, Kiryu Kazusuke had turned around, seemingly about to make a phone call.
"Wait!"
Section Chief Yoshino rushed forward, blocking his path.
"Um, sir…"
She forced out a smile uglier than crying, the foundation on her cheeks caked from her earlier agitation.
"Actually, actually this is all a misunderstanding."
As she spoke, she bent slightly at the waist and pushed Representative Okawara’s business card back with both hands.
"I drank too much just now and saw things wrong."
"Thinking about it carefully, I can’t entirely blame you. After all, I really didn’t stand steady just now, and I was somewhat blocking the aisle too."
"Right, you were walking behind, and I accidentally bumped into you."
Her attitude did a complete one-eighty.
From the shrewish, screaming fishwife of moments ago, she instantly transformed into this understanding, even servile figure.
Before absolute power, face wasn’t worth a damn.
"It was really… a misunderstanding?"
Kiryu Kazusuke stopped, tilted his head, and looked at her blankly.
"It was a misunderstanding! Absolutely a misunderstanding!" Yoshino Keiko said, her face wreathed in smiles. "Such a small matter—how could it be worth disturbing the esteemed Representative Okawara?"
Seeing that Kiryu Kazusuke remained silent, she immediately turned, strode to the table, and grabbed two banknotes.
"This compensation… I’ll accept it."
"This thirty thousand yen is more than enough for dry cleaning. Is this acceptable?"
By now, her tone was almost pleading.
As long as this gentleman would leave immediately and not actually call the representative, she’d be willing to pay thirty thousand out of her own pocket, let alone accept it.
The surrounding diners watched with jaws dropped.
The speed at which she changed her face was faster than flipping through a book.
Saionji Mina shrank in the corner, only half her head showing.
She knew the weight of that business card.
In the Citizens’ Affairs Section, the most common private topic was gossip about these powerful figures.
Doctor Kiryu actually knew someone like that?
If he did, why was he still living in the same cheap single-occupancy apartment as her?
"Oh, I see." Kiryu Kazusuke nodded, seeming to accept the explanation. "Since the Section Chief says so, then… let’s leave it at that."
He took the business card and put it back in his pocket.
Then he waved at the still-dazed shop owner. "Check, please…"
The shop owner froze.
Kiryu Kazusuke pointed at his own table.
"No need, no need, sir!"
The shop owner was also someone who knew how to read the room.
He had seen everything just now. Even a City Hall section chief had been groveling in fear—was this still just some common drunk?
Kiryu Kazusuke waved his refusal.
He pulled out his wallet, counted out another ten-thousand-yen bill, and slapped it on the counter.
He picked up his coat, turned, and left.
Section Chief Yoshino only fully exhaled after watching Kiryu Kazusuke stagger out the yakiniku restaurant’s door and disappear into the night. Her legs went weak, and she nearly collapsed onto the floor.
It was fine as long as nothing happened.
It was good to be alive.
"Section Chief… are you alright?"
The subordinates crowded around, asking with concern.
"Scram! All of you, scram!" Section Chief Yoshino shoved them away, venting all her resentment and fear onto these innocent subordinates.
Saionji Mina stood at the outermost edge, struggling not to laugh.
…
Outside the yakiniku restaurant.
A frigid wind blew head-on, mixed with grains of unmelted snow that stung the face.
【World Line of Saionji Mina Converged】
【Reward: Physical Fitness Improvement · Slight】
The text flashed before Kiryu Kazusuke’s eyes, and a familiar warm current surged through his body once again.
Although it was "slight," the feeling of small amounts accumulating into something greater was quite nice.
At the very least, the alcohol from the glasses of draft beer he had just consumed was clearly metabolizing faster. His mind was exceptionally clear; even that slight tipsiness was nearly gone.
He raised his wrist and glanced at his watch.
8:20 PM.
He had just eaten so much meat that he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he went back now, and his apartment was only about ten square meters—staying there too long really was oppressive.
He decided to take a walk.
Maebashi City could not compare to Tokyo’s prosperity, but as the capital of Gumma Prefecture, its nightlife was still fairly vibrant.
On both sides of the street, gaudy signs vied for attention.
Neon lights at pachinko parlors flashed frantically, the tremendous noise audible from far away even through the glass doors.
Office workers in suits gathered in twos and threes, cigarettes between their fingers, loudly complaining about their bosses or about why mortgage rates still hadn’t dropped.
This was 1994.
The fourth year after the bubble economy burst.
People were no longer high-spirited as they had been a few years ago. They no longer talked loudly about golf and skiing, nor waved ten-thousand-yen bills to fight over taxis.
Passing an electronics store, the television in the display window was playing a program featuring the popular idol group SMAP.
Kimura Takuya’s absurdly young face appeared on the screen, causing passing high school girls to scream.
"This TV looks great—a Sony Trinitron tube."
"Must cost a good hundred thousand yen, right?"
"Can’t afford it, can’t afford it. My dad said this year’s bonus is down the drain again."
The passersby’s conversation drifted into his ears.
He looked at the poster stuck to the glass window; the price on it left him somewhat emotional.
Prices were still rising by inertia, yet people’s incomes were beginning to shrink.
This widening scissors gap was slowly cutting off ordinary people’s hope.
In this era without smartphones or mobile internet, information channels were singular and delayed.
Everyone was still immersed in the fantasy that "this is just a temporary adjustment; the economy will get better soon."
Little did they know, this would be the beginning of the "Lost Three Decades."
The writing of this book up to now would not have been possible without the support of every reader. Especially to those who voted with monthly tickets and left comments—several of you, I read them over and over late at night and was deeply moved. I hope you will all continue to support me. Please keep reading, please comment, and please give monthly tickets. This is truly important to me. I’m begging you.