Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner

He let Sazake Genchi collect it, while he just handled the payment.

Seeing this, the blond-haired guy thought this person sure is grandiose, so generous, maybe he's a big drug lord. Better tell the boss, might be a big deal.

Both sides traded money and goods, and everyone was happy.

Fushimi Roku stood up, put his arm around the blond-haired guy, and invited him for a drink; the blond-haired guy initially wanted to refuse, but Fushimi Roku was too enthusiastic, and besides, he just made some money from Fushimi Roku, so not going for a drink would be rude.

The socialite Fushimi Roku had just finished drinking in the afternoon, and continued in the evening. He fully utilized his social skills, amusing the blond-haired guy so much that they felt like old friends, almost wanting to swear brotherhood on the spot.

After several rounds of drinks, Fushimi Roku felt the atmosphere was right, and began probing with some questions. However, the blond-haired guy was very cautious and didn't mention who his superior was; Fushimi Roku then shifted to asking about the blond-haired guy's customer information, and the blond-haired guy wasn't as concerned about the privacy of customers and casually made a few complaints.

"Where there's demand to buy, there's demand to sell. I didn't force them to take it, they wanted it themselves…"

The blond-haired guy deflected responsibility, following Fushimi Roku's words, and couldn't help but complain for a while.

As Fushimi Roku listened, he felt something was off, and couldn't help but ask, "Have you seen the news lately? There have been reports that a new product has hit the market that makes people completely lose their minds. There were a few who went crazy in the streets after taking it, and one even hugged a patrol officer, biting him like bread…"

The blond-haired guy waved his hand, burped, lit a cigarette, and lowered his voice, "No such thing."

Fushimi Roku raised his eyebrows in surprise, complimented him a bit, and toasted to encourage him to elaborate.

The blond-haired guy appreciated this, and cut to the chase, explaining, "If there were new products on the market eating into shares, wouldn't we dealers be aware? News reports often talk nonsense with their eyes wide open. What do those office-dwelling journalists know…"

As he talked, the blond-haired guy started to rant passionately about politics.

Fushimi Roku found it curious and asked, "Then why do you think those people went crazy?"

"No idea," the blond-haired guy didn't care, casually brushed off, "Probably got poisoned, collective poisoning incidents aren't that unusual…"

Fushimi Roku knew it couldn't be food poisoning. The addicts the police had arrested didn't have intersecting social circles, how could they be poisoned at the same time?

Though it was strange, Fushimi Roku didn't dwell on it, nor did he plan on reporting it to the Police Department.

Drinking with others was mentally taxing, otherwise, why would people hate social gatherings? Moreover, Fushimi Roku had to use his social skills to disguise himself, constantly weighing his words, and thinking of ways to lower the other's guard, leaving no energy to enjoy drinking.

He was already busy enough as it was, he didn't want to worry about useless things.

By the time they finished drinking, it was already twelve at night.

The two staggered out of the izakaya, exchanged contact information, and made plans to drink together next time.

Fushimi Roku leaned against the streetlight, took out his phone and glanced at it. Minamoto Tamako had sent a message, asking why he hadn't come home yet—Minamoto Tamako didn't dare to call for fear of disrupting Fushimi-kun's 'secret mission,' nor send too many messages to avoid arousing suspicion from others.

"Coming back soon, make me a bowl of udon noodles."

Fushimi Roku sent a message back, and Minamoto Tamako replied instantly, "Okay, thanks for your hard work!"

Seeing this message, Fushimi Roku inexplicably felt that today wasn't as tiring.

He staggered home, reeking of alcohol, and unlocked the door with his key.

The entrance light was on, left on for him intentionally.

"I'm back." Fushimi Roku casually called out, standing at the threshold to change his shoes.

Minamoto Tamako heard the door open, ran over and said, "Welcome back, the udon is ready, how was work today…"

Saying so, she helped take off Fushimi Roku's jacket, curiously asking, "Eh, why has your leather jacket turned into a school uniform?"

Fushimi Roku replied earnestly, "It's a disguise tool, make sure to keep it safe for me."

He looked Minamoto Tamako up and down, the latter wearing an apron, hair tied up, dressed in pajamas, and wearing plush slippers, looking like she'd transitioned from a girl to a woman.

"Oh, okay…"

Minamoto Tamako believed him and carefully folded the school uniform, placing it on the coffee table.

She turned around and saw Fushimi Roku inspecting her, instinctively asking, "What is it?"

Fushimi Roku was about to say something sweet to continue what hadn't been finished the previous night. But before he could speak, a middle-aged woman came out of the kitchen, carrying two bowls of udon.

"Ms. Tamako, the noodles are ready."

She was the housekeeper hired by Kujo Yua, responsible for looking after Ms. Tamako's daily life. In addition to the housekeeper, there was originally a rehabilitation therapist who got off work earlier, around six in the evening.

Fushimi Roku held his tongue, suspecting that this housekeeper was planted by Kujo Yua to monitor him.

"Eat quickly, it won't taste good if it gets cold." Minamoto Tamako didn't think too much, sitting at the dining table, picking up chopsticks and urging, "I made a major discovery regarding the face-biting case!"

"Alright, go ahead."

Fushimi Roku sat across from her, picked up his chopsticks and slurped his noodles, pretending to listen, but was actually observing the housekeeper, trying to figure out when she would finally be gone.

Minamoto Tamako had been resting at home for a few hours today and wanted to relax, but she just couldn't stop pondering the face-biting case.

She called that junior to offer some words of comfort as a senior and help as much as possible…but found that the person was not to be found. They had submitted a resignation letter to the police box and changed their address and phone number, seemingly deeply affected.

Minamoto Tamako felt uneasy, believing she was also at fault. If she had stopped it in time, the junior wouldn't have been disfigured.

As a senior, not taking care of her junior left her feeling somewhat guilty.

Out of guilt, Minamoto Tamako decided to thoroughly investigate the case, at least to find out who sold drugs to the deceased… If the deceased really went mad due to drug use, Minamoto Tamako felt those drug dealers were the true culprits!

She called the deceased's family, asking if the deceased had any history of drug use, receiving a denial in response; so she rephrased the question, asking if there was any abnormal behavior before the deceased's death, the family recalled and provided a clue.

"Jiro usually loved watching horror movies… recently… he kept mumbling about a zombie outbreak, claiming the virus was spreading everywhere… he even forced the family to boil water to drink, too scared to go to work…"

"Later, we found a psychologist for Jiro, and he seemed to get better… we thought he wouldn't relapse, allowed him to go to work normally… never expected… never expected something like this could happen…"

In the end, the deceased's family was sobbing uncontrollably.

Minamoto Tamako comforted them for a long time, and after they calmed down, she hung up.

She suspected that drugs were not the reason for the face-biter's madness, so she called the police station, got other 'addicts'' family contacts, and called them one by one for inquiries.

Some families were cooperative, while others were very resistant. Minamoto Tamako received many scoldings, but she found it worthwhile because she discovered some patterns among those 'addicts.'

Minamoto Tamako got so caught up in talking that she couldn't even bother eating, she spread out her notebook filled with dense notes:

"Look, the dog guy claimed he didn't take drugs. The reason he peed on the street was that he thought he was a dog at the time and was marking his territory…"

"Then there's the parrot guy. He keeps a few parrots at home, often talking to them, with hardly any social life. Maybe he thought he was a bird, that's why he jumped off the rooftop…"

Finishing, she pointed at her analysis conclusion, seriously saying, "It's definitely a problem with the pharmaceutical company! The psychiatric drugs produced by the company are non-compliant!"