Chapter 90: Miya Inoue Goes on a Rampage, The Arrest

Nakayama Meiki, 35 years old, is a married man. While his wife and children reside in his hometown of Hokkaido—under the pretense that a school transfer would hinder their education—the reality is that their absence provides him the perfect cover to indulge in debauchery throughout Tokyo.

However, having overindulged the previous night, he had no appetite for carnal pleasures this evening and headed straight home after work. His residence is a villa facing the street. Since he had to return to work the next day, he didn't bother pulling his car into the garage, leaving it parked right on the roadside by the gate. After all, given his position, he had no fear of receiving a traffic citation.

Nakayama entered the foyer, changed his shoes, removed his coat, and walked into the living room. He sat heavily on the sofa, kneading his stiff, aching neck. Exhausted from his "service to the nation" throughout the night, he soon drifted into a deep sleep.

Just then, the kitchen sliding door opened silently. Inoue Miya, who had been crouching there all day, stepped out barefoot, his expression vacant. Staring at the sleeping Nakayama, he pulled a long, thin wire from his coat. He crept behind him, looped the wire around the neck that had grown so fat it was nearly invisible, braced his foot against the sofa, and pulled with all his might.

"Ugh!" Nakayama’s head snapped back in his sleep. Jolted awake by the agony, his eyes flew open, meeting the disheveled face of Inoue Miya hovering above him. He recognized this man instantly.

Nakayama’s eyes bulged, his breath hitching as if his throat were being sliced through. Desperation filled his gaze; he clawed at the wire, but it was futile, and blood began to seep from his neck.

"Scared? Terrified? This is exactly how my daughter felt before she died," Inoue muttered, his face twitching. He tightened his gloved hands on the wire, his own breathing growing ragged. "I gave you her underwear, stained with the bodily fluids of Konoe Fuji, and you told me there was no evidence? Huh? Was there really no evidence?"

"Ugh... hhh... hhh..."

Tears streamed from the corners of Nakayama’s eyes. His hands clawed at Inoue’s arms, his mouth emitting incoherent, pleading sounds. He never imagined that this pathetic man, who had once knelt and begged him for help, would have the audacity to end his life.

"In this era, it's exhausting enough for people like us just to stay alive. Why do you have to bully us like this? Why? Why! You bastard!"

Inoue gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot. Moments later, Nakayama’s hands fell limp, his legs stopped kicking, and he slumped backward, his mouth agape and eyes wide open in a final, unblinking stare. He never had the chance to utter a last word.

Inoue, being cautious, did not release the tension immediately. He held the position for a while longer before letting go. He slumped to the floor, gasping for air, clearly drained. After resting and regaining his composure, he stood up, removed the blood-stained wire that had embedded itself into the flesh, washed it in the kitchen, and tucked it away. Only then did he begin to ransack the house.

Money was secondary; to his surprise, he found a handgun in the drawer of Nakayama’s study. The magazine was full. It was clear that this man, having committed many transgressions, had used his status to obtain an illegal weapon for self-defense. After gathering his spoils, Inoue did not rush to flee, choosing instead to wait patiently for nightfall.

***

The next day, Aoyama Hidenobu went straight to Asai Aya’s office upon arriving at the police station. After seeing Uchida Yuki yesterday, he had experienced a vivid dream that left him in dire need of release. It wasn’t that Uchida was unattainable, but Asai Aya was simply more convenient. He was grateful for her; otherwise, the sudden urge would have been unbearable.

"In such a rush, what’s wrong?" Asai asked, looking up from her makeup mirror with a puzzled expression.

Aoyama walked over, lifted her, and pressed her against the desk. "I suddenly missed you."

"You mean you suddenly wanted to screw me, right?" Asai rolled her eyes, kicking off her high heels as she lay over the desk. "Make it quick; I have things to do."

The string of crimes committed by Kitamiya Ryoo had sparked public panic, and the Metropolitan Police Department was holding a press conference that morning to address the nation and stabilize public sentiment. As the officer in charge, Asai was required to attend, so she wore her ceremonial uniform—a skirt rather than trousers. It proved quite convenient for Aoyama.

Asai was usually dignified in her uniform, possessing a beauty that commanded authority. But as her clothes became disheveled and her skirt was pushed up to her ankles, that dignity vanished, replaced by pure allure. Aoyama moved with fervor, the desk creaking and groaning under the pressure.

"Knock, knock, knock!"

Asai’s face turned pale. She pushed at Aoyama, whispering, "Get up, quickly!"

"Inspector?" A voice called from outside, followed immediately by, "The identity of the suspect identified by the thief in the surveillance footage has been confirmed."

"Just a moment," Asai replied. Once Aoyama pulled away, she frantically straightened her uniform. She pointed to the space under the desk and whispered for him to hide. Aoyama, feeling quite speechless—it was the secretary’s spot—had little choice but to comply to avoid being seen in such a state.

"Come in," Asai said, sitting upright in her chair. Her upper body looked composed, despite her flushed face, but below the desk, she was completely exposed.

A police officer entered, bowed, and handed over a document. "The suspect is named Kitamiya Ryoo, a plumber."

"Good. Leave the file and get back to work," Asai said, her face expressionless, though her feet under the desk were restless. Aoyama didn't dare make a sound. In his past life, he had only seen such scenes in adult films; he never expected to live one. Truly, art imitated life.

"Yes, sir!" The officer bowed and left.

"Clang!"

After that, Aoyama lost his appetite. He emerged from under the desk and began to dress. Asai, too flustered to check the files, quickly adjusted her skirt. "I have to get to the press conference. Look over those papers." She hurried out.

Aoyama picked up the files, returned to his office, and issued two orders to his subordinates: first, to search Kitamiya’s home for the stolen items from the victims, and second, to bring Kitamiya in for questioning.

Twenty minutes later, Aoyama received a call from the team at Kitamiya’s home. They had found the victims' jewelry and belongings. Combined with the thief's identification, the case against Kitamiya was sealed.

Meanwhile, the second team, led by Sakai Ryosai, had reached Kitamiya’s workplace.

"We are from the Metropolitan Police Department. Kitamiya Ryoo, you are a suspect in an ongoing investigation. Come with us!" Sakai announced, flashing his badge.

Kitamiya’s face turned deathly pale. He didn't understand how the police had found him. Before he could react, handcuffs were snapped onto his wrists, and he was dragged away. His coworkers were stunned, gossiping wildly—none had suspected that the man they despised was a criminal.

Half an hour later, Aoyama sat in the interrogation room waiting for Kitamiya. Once the suspect was pinned to the chair, Aoyama dismissed the others and got straight to the point. "You were seen leaving the Sunset Apartments at 3:00 AM the night before last, and we found the victims' jewelry in your home. The truth is clear: you are the killer."

As for why the first victim’s belongings were missing, Aoyama guessed Kitamiya hadn't had the presence of mind to loot the place during his first murder. He was glad; it saved him the trouble of destroying evidence.

Kitamiya kept his lips tightly sealed. After a long silence, he looked up at Aoyama. "Do you want to hear my story?"

Aoyama smiled, then suddenly lunged forward, slamming Kitamiya’s head into the table. The nasal bone shattered instantly, and a stream of crimson blood splattered across the desk.

"Aah! My nose! Aah!"

"I don't want to hear your story, nor do I care about your hardships. I don't give a damn about your past!" Aoyama pressed his hand firmly on Kitamiya’s head, his expression cold. "I’m asking you: are you the one who mimicked Kitano Kyoka to kill those two victims?"

"No! I didn't mimic anyone!" Kitamiya blurted out. Knowing there was no escape, he grew frantic, desperate to claim his "glory." "I didn't mimic him! I killed Mikami Masako, too!"

"Baka!" Aoyama roared, his eyes wide with fury. "We won't miss a single crime you committed, but don't think you can claim murders you didn't do!"

"I killed her! I killed them all!" Kitamiya screamed.

Aoyama watched him coldly. "So, you’re saying I arrested the wrong person? If that’s true, what evidence do you have that you killed Mikami Masako?"

If he had evidence, he better produce it—so Aoyama could destroy it.

"I..." Kitamiya stammered, lacking any proof, only repeating, "I killed her. I didn't mimic anyone."

"As long as you confess," Aoyama said, satisfied that the suspect had no evidence. He released him and walked out of the interrogation room, telling Sakai, who was waiting outside, "Go ahead and take his statement."

"Yes, sir!" Sakai bowed and entered. He was shocked by the state of Kitamiya; Chief Aoyama was truly ruthless toward evildoers.

Kitamiya finally told his story to Sakai. In short, he had been isolated by his coworkers for snitching on them when he first joined the company, and even his manager disliked him. Over time, he was dumped with all the menial work and forced to work late-night shifts. Unable to fight back against the workplace oppression, he redirected his rage toward the clients who forced him to work those late hours. He killed the clients he had visited for late-night plumbing jobs. He insisted he killed Mikami Masako as well, but Sakai chose not to record such nonsense.

After leaving the interrogation room, Aoyama called Asai to inform her of the confession. Just as he returned to his desk, hoping for a moment of peace, an officer rushed in.

"Nakayama Meiki, the section chief of the Sex Crimes Investigation Division 2, has been found dead in his home. The forensics team is already on the scene."