Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Minato Ward, Itsuro Takamizawa Chemical Co., Ltd. factory grounds.

A black police car screeched to a brief halt, stopping steadily outside the imposing factory gate.

The car door sprang open, and Inspector You Hong stepped out, followed by Sato Ichiro and Kondo Motoki.

He looked up, surveying the modern factory before him; its pristine glass curtain walls gleamed in the afternoon sun, silent as a sterile laboratory.

“Tsk, looks a lot cleaner than the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department cafeteria,” Inspector You Hong muttered, straightening the collar of his uniform.

Just then, the heavy automatic glass door of the factory slid open silently.

A middle-aged man, impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored, wrinkle-free dark gray suit, walked out.

He was about forty years old, his hair neatly combed, a perfectly appropriate gentle smile on his face, and his steps were steady and composed. As he approached, he exuded an invisible, oppressive aura of someone long accustomed to a position of power.

Itsuro Takamizawa, the helmsman of a vast business Empire, including Takamizawa Products, Takamizawa Chemical, and Takamizawa Technology.

“Ah, what an honor to have such distinguished guests.”

Itsuro Takamizawa’s voice was like a carefully aged fine wine, mellow and gentle, with just the right amount of surprise and warmth.

He walked a few steps to Inspector You Hong, extending his hand proactively. “Inspector You Hong, I’ve heard so much about you. May I ask, what brings you Police Inspectors here today?”

Inspector You Hong’s face instantly switched to a standard professional smile. He extended his hand for a brief, firm handshake, neither too light nor too strong. “Mr. Takamizawa, you’re too kind. This is a routine inspection by the SPID. We’ve received some ‘feedback’ regarding your factory, concerning worker safety and suspected irregular operations, so we came to take a look.”

His gaze swept over the pristine, modern factory behind Itsuro Takamizawa, so clean it almost reflected his image.

He couldn't help but think to himself: “Oh, the parasites in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department are truly pervasive. They leaked information quickly enough. This surprise inspection didn't follow standard procedures.”

Itsuro Takamizawa’s smile remained unchanged, but his eyes naturally revealed a perfectly appropriate hint of confusion and grievance. “This… this is truly a huge misunderstanding!”

He spread his hands slightly, his posture open and candid. “Our Takamizawa Chemical has always regarded employee safety as the lifeline of our company. All safety protocols strictly adhere to national standards, and some even far exceed them.

Protective equipment? That’s regularly replaced to ensure absolute foolproofness. How could there be any missing workers or inadequate safety measures? Absolutely impossible!”

His tone was sincere, his eyes earnest, as if he had suffered a grave injustice.

Inspector You Hong raised an eyebrow, silently commending the President’s acting skills. As expected of an old fox who could build such a large enterprise; he was watertight.

“Is that so? Well, that’s excellent then.” Inspector You Hong’s smile remained, but his tone carried an unyielding implication. “However, it’s our duty to go in and check the On-site situation. Mr. Takamizawa, would you be so kind as to cooperate?”

Itsuro Takamizawa’s smile seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second, then blossomed even more gently. “Of course! Cooperating with the police investigation is our obligation.

Please, please follow me.” He turned sideways, making an inviting gesture, his posture impeccable.

Under the watchful eyes of Kondo Motoki and Sato Ichiro, Itsuro Takamizawa personally led the way, guiding the three through the bright and tidy factory corridors into the core production area.

As they stepped into the production area, a unique smell, a mixture of disinfectant and chemical raw materials, wafted towards them.

Fully automated assembly lines hummed with efficient operation, emitting a low, rhythmic drone.

However, what was most striking were the workers in the workshop.

Everyone wore spotless white protective suits, not a single crease visible, completely covered from head to toe, with masks, gloves, and boot covers all in place, even more exaggerated than a surgeon's gear in a sterile operating room.

Their movements were uniform, like programmed robots, quietly operating at their stations. The entire workshop was so quiet that only the sound of equipment running could be heard.

Kondo Motoki looked a bit bewildered, instinctively whispering to Sato beside him, “Sato Senior, isn’t this protection… a little too clean?”

Sato Ichiro remained silent, his face stern, only his sharp eyes scanning every corner.

Inspector You Hong’s gaze lingered for a moment on the excessively white protective suits, then swept over the gleaming floor and spotless equipment, the corners of his mouth curving upward almost imperceptibly.

He said nothing, only casually strolled through the workshop, accompanied by Itsuro Takamizawa.

Itsuro Takamizawa accompanied them throughout, his smile impeccable, patiently answering every question Sato Ichiro asked about safety procedures and worker protection.

His answers were clear and logical, citing regulations and even providing specific safety standard numbers and procurement batch numbers for protective equipment.

After a meticulous, almost harsh inspection, the result was nothing.

There were no signs of missing workers, all safety facilities were new and complete, production records were neat and clear, and not even a damaged safety sign could be found.

The entire factory was clean, efficient, and standardized, like a precisely operating machine, so perfect… that no fault could be found.

“It seems the information we received was incorrect, and we’ve caused your factory trouble,” Inspector You Hong said to Itsuro Takamizawa, standing at the workshop exit, his face still bearing that same smile.

Itsuro Takamizawa’s smile now held a touch of relief, as if a great injustice had been cleared. “Not at all, not at all. The innocent will always be proven innocent. Inspector You Hong is diligent and responsible in his work, and this is also to ensure public safety. Cooperation with the investigation is only right.”

Their gazes briefly met in the air; one gentle and humble, the other calm and unruffled, yet beneath the surface, undercurrents surged.

“Mr. Takamizawa, your management is impressive, I admire it.”

Inspector You Hong praised him casually, then his tone suddenly shifted, carrying a hint of deeper meaning. “However, sometimes, no matter how well the surface work is done, it might just be… self-deception.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowered so only the two of them could hear. “No matter how much you pretend, it’s useless.”

Itsuro Takamizawa’s perfect smile finally showed a faint, almost imperceptible stiffness.

Inspector You Hong’s gaze seemed to penetrate his meticulously crafted perfect facade, seeing something he didn’t want to reveal.

“When destiny arrives,” Inspector You Hong’s gaze calmly swept over Itsuro Takamizawa’s slightly rigid face, his voice very soft, yet every word clear, “you will make a choice.”

With that, without waiting for Itsuro Takamizawa’s response, he turned sharply and waved to Sato and Kondo. “Fall in!”

Leaving Itsuro Takamizawa standing in place, the gentle smile on his face completely vanished, his eyes as dark as the sea before a storm.

Meanwhile, at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department headquarters.

In the spacious conference room, the curtains were drawn tight, and only the overhead lights above the long table cast pale beams.

Ichiijo Kaoru sat at the head of the table, expressionless, his fingers tapping rhythmically and oppressively on the smooth conference table.

His gaze was cold, sweeping over every high-ranking Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department official sitting upright.

The air seemed to solidify, so heavy it was suffocating.

Masashi Sudo sat near the door, fine beads of cold sweat on his forehead.

He could feel the gazes of his colleagues around him, some friendly, some distant, some even with a hint of barely concealed schadenfreude.

His hands, resting on his knees, were tightly clenched, his fingernails almost digging into his palms.

“Police Inspector Sudo.”

Ichiijo Kaoru’s voice broke the silence, not loud, but it struck Masashi Sudo’s heart like a heavy hammer.

Masashi Sudo straightened his back abruptly. “Yes, Chief!”

Ichiijo Kaoru didn’t look at him, only gave a slight nod to a staff member from the Internal Affairs Department next to him.

The staff member immediately picked up a document, cleared his throat, and began to state in a flat voice: “Based on preliminary investigation and public tip-offs, we are now conducting an internal inquiry into Police Inspector Masashi Sudo of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s Investigation Division Two, regarding significant suspicions in the following matters…”

One by one, pieces of evidence deemed “questionable” were listed: Masashi Sudo’s unexplained deposits; ambiguous records in the handling of several cases involving cultural relic smuggling; “lenient treatment” of a company’s illegal activities within his jurisdiction on one occasion…

Most of these accusations lacked concrete evidence, but each pointed to his abuse of power and possible illicit gains.

“…In view of the above circumstances, to facilitate further investigation and avoid unnecessary interference and influence,” Ichiijo Kaoru finally spoke slowly after the Internal Affairs Department staff member finished his statement, his gaze sharply fixed on Masashi Sudo’s face, “it is hereby decided to temporarily suspend Police Inspector Masashi Sudo.

Effective immediately, he is to cease all police duties, surrender his service weapon and identification, and be available for questioning by the Internal Affairs Department at any time.

Police Inspector Sudo, do you have anything to appeal regarding this decision?”

Appeal? In front of so many people?

Masashi Sudo felt a surge of anger rush to his head, burning so intensely that his vision blurred.

He stood up abruptly, his sudden movement causing his chair to scrape loudly and harshly.

“No!”

He squeezed out two words through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse, laden with forcibly suppressed fury. “I accept the organization’s review! The innocent will always be proven innocent!”

He practically snatched the suspension notice and the brown envelope for his identification that the Internal Affairs staff member handed him, not even looking at them, and stormed out.

The heavy conference room door slammed shut behind him with a bang, making the doorframe hum.