Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 253 Arresting Xu Nuo

(Thanks to "钟声—" for the expert certification! Thank you to "许秦年" for the expert certification! Thank you to "不吃芹菜的颜" for the expert certification!)

(Two chapters today too~)

Late May.

Minato Ward, Tokyo.

Osawa Ichiro's private residence.

The heavy blackout curtains in the bedroom completely blocked out the morning sunlight, and a faint chemical smell of sleeping pills from the previous night lingered in the air.

Ichiro Osawa opened his eyes. He stared at the European-style plaster carvings on the ceiling and exhaled a heavy breath.

The draft repeal and amendment to the Large Retailer Law has been forcibly passed. He has broken down the last barrier to the Japanese retail market for Washington. According to his secret agreement with William, the US Economic Minister to Japan, Washington should have issued a statement through official channels yesterday, "publicly supporting the reform faction in Japan," on the day the bill was enacted.

However, yesterday, he waited anxiously in his private residence all day, but the promised political endorsement never came. This eerie silence pushed his already exhausted nerves to their limit.

He touched his still slightly aching head, lifted the silk quilt, and stepped barefoot onto the warm wooden floor.

I walked to the window and pulled back the curtains.

The blinding morning light instantly flooded the bedroom. Daze subconsciously squinted and raised his right hand to shield his forehead.

He walked to the bedside table, picked up the half-full glass of cold water left over from last night, and drank it all in one gulp. The icy liquid slid down his dry throat, clearing his mind somewhat from the hangover and drug residue.

Today, he deliberately avoided going to the office of the chief executive at the First Members' Hall.

He forcefully attributed Washington's failure to deliver on its promise to time zone differences and bureaucratic delays, hoping that the belated statement would be issued as scheduled this morning.

Meanwhile, the core media outlets controlled by the faction will also portray him in today's morning and midday news as a political giant who "withstood the pressure from outdated forces and led Japan into a new era of free trade."

He only needed to sit in this quiet private residence and wait for the major tycoons and wavering politicians to send him flattering congratulatory telegrams.

Ichiro Osawa walked to the desk and pressed the hands-free button on the landline.

He extended his thick index finger and pressed the private number of Chief Secretary Hirano on the dial pad.

"Beep—beep—beep—"

The monotonous, blind sound echoed in the spacious bedroom.

Osawa frowned slightly. Normally, Hirano would answer the phone immediately after it rang even once.

He disconnected the line and redialed the faction headquarters' confidential secretary desk.

The continuous dial tone continued.

not right...

A slight sense of unease crept up his spine from the way his fingers gripped the receiver.

Ichiro Osawa turned off the speakerphone. He grabbed the receiver and pressed hard on the dedicated line number for the political editor of the Yomiuri Shimbun.

A very faint static noise came from the receiver. Three seconds later, the mechanical female voice of an automated answering machine switched to the receiver.

"Your call cannot be answered at this time. Please leave a message after the beep..."

Osawa Ichiro slammed the receiver back onto its base.

Something's not right...

Outside the window, the soft footsteps of security personnel changing shifts echoed in the courtyard.

From the direction of the kitchen on the first floor, the faint sounds of pots and pans clattering as a middle-aged part-time worker prepares breakfast can be heard.

On the quiet slope outside the door, a neighbor's car drove by, making a soft rustling sound.

Everything seemed perfectly normal.

however.

Ichiro Osawa stared intently at the silent landline.

His connection with the entire Nagata-cho and the entire media industry was severed.

Osawa Ichiro's breathing suddenly quickened. His chest began to heave violently.

He strode out of the bedroom and across the hallway.

At the far end of the second floor is his private study.

He gripped the brass doorknob and pressed down hard.

"Click".

The door opened. The study was furnished as usual. A deep red Persian carpet lay flat on the floor, and several solid gold pens and blank stationery were neatly arranged on the large mahogany desk.

Ichiro Osawa walked quickly to the wall behind the desk.

A huge Japanese Ukiyo-e landscape painting hangs on the wall.

He reached out with both hands, grabbed the edge of the solid wood picture frame, lifted it up forcefully, and casually placed it on the desk next to him.

Inside the wall, there is a silver-gray heavy machinery safe.

This metal door requires both a complex combination dial and a physical key for authentication. At this moment, the metal knob is perfectly still at its initial setting. There are no signs of prying, cutting, or forced entry on its surface.

It's okay, it's okay... This is perfectly normal...

Osawa Ichiro stared at the keypad, a thin layer of cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He took a brass key from the inside pocket of his pajamas and inserted it into the lock at the bottom.

He took a deep breath. He stretched out his slightly trembling right hand and grasped the cold metal knob.

It's fine……

Turn left two full circles.

"Click." The internal gears mesh.

Turn right to mark seven. Then turn left to mark four.

Each click of the gears meshing was amplified infinitely in the deathly silent study, striking his eardrums heavily.

The last lap is complete.

He gripped the heavy metal handle and pulled it outward with force.

"Creak—"

The safe door slowly popped open.

Osawa Ichiro's gaze instantly fell to the deepest part of the safe.

The bottommost compartment is used to store top-secret documents.

Empty.

The original secret agreement bearing the signature of the U.S. ambassador. The two miniature cassette tapes recording his shady deals with Washington politicians. Even the black notebook containing his money laundering channels and offshore account passwords.

They've all disappeared.

Osawa Ichiro's breathing almost stopped for a moment.

He lunged forward, plunging half his body into the safe, his hands frantically groping and searching the cold metal interior. His fingernails scraped against the steel plate at the bottom, producing a rapid, piercing sound.

It was empty. Not even a scrap of paper was found.

Osawa Ichiro stiffly stepped back. He stared intently at the intact heavy cabinet door, his gaze fixed on the mechanical combination dial still at the correct mark.

There were no signs of forced entry, no charred marks from acetylene cutting. The infrared alarm network, which connects directly to the Metropolitan Police Department, hadn't even sounded a single alarm last night.

Who came in? How did they open the door? When were they taken away?

His brain was racing in extreme panic, trying to find a reasonable explanation that conformed to the common sense of physics, only to find that all his deductions were dead ends.

"Impossible... Absolutely impossible..."

Osawa Ichiro's throat emitted a hissing sound. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently, yet he felt as if he couldn't breathe a single drop of oxygen.

His legs began to tremble uncontrollably, his knees buckled, and he completely lost the strength to support his body.

His massive body slid down the cold wall and landed heavily on the wooden floor of the study.

……

Xiaguan.

Tokyo District Public Prosecutors Office Special Investigation Department (Teko Department).

The blinds in the officer's office were tightly closed.

The Special Investigations Chief sat upright behind his large desk. This stern prosecutor, who had led investigations into political donations for years, had his hands firmly pressed on the table, his gaze fixed on the two black miniature audio tapes and several photocopies in front of him.

The current Prime Minister, Toshiki Kaifu, sat quietly in a guest chair opposite his desk, dressed in a dark black suit.

Hirano stood to the side and slightly behind Kaibu, head down, arms pressed tightly against his sides.

"Sir."

Toshiki Kaifu's voice broke the silence in the room.

"On the table is the complete audio recording of Secretary-General Osawa's private meeting with representatives of foreign companies. As for those documents..."

Kaibu extended his index finger and lightly tapped the edge of one of the documents bearing an English signature.

"It bears the handwritten signature of William, the U.S. Economic Minister to Japan. And, there are several large sums of money with unknown origins flowing into Ichiro Osawa's anonymous overseas accounts."

"In order to obtain political asylum and financial support from overseas, Ichiro Osawa forcibly passed a bill in yesterday's Diet plenary session that would open the country's business barriers to foreign investment. Such actions have seriously violated the Political Funds Control Law."

Kaibu leaned forward slightly, his deep gaze fixed directly into the eyes of the Special Investigations Chief.

"At the same time, as Prime Minister."

"I have ample reason to suspect that Ichiro Osawa is involved in selling state-owned economic secrets."

The Special Investigations Chief swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.

He is indeed known as the "Iron-Faced Prosecutor," but in this situation, the waters run very deep, and even the Golden-Faced Prosecutor wouldn't be able to help.

"Your Excellency the Prime Minister."

The Special Investigations Chief's voice sounded slightly hoarse. He carefully chose his words, his gaze shifting from the documents on the desk to Kaibu.

"The prosecution has no objection to the validity of the charges based on this information. However... Secretary-General Osawa is currently in session with the Diet. Under the current constitution, even if the prosecution applies for an arrest warrant from the court, it cannot bypass the House of Representatives to carry out the arrest directly."

Toshiki Kaifu withdrew his hand and placed his hands, folded together, on his knees.

"Procedural barriers should be resolved by the cabinet."

Kaibu looked at his superior officer, his tone extremely calm.

"Ten minutes later, I will formally submit a request to the Speaker of the House of Representatives, in the name of the Cabinet, for a warrant to be issued for the arrest of Ichiro Osawa."

He leaned forward slightly, looking directly at the prosecutor opposite him.

"What the Special Investigations Department needs to do is get the judges in the courtroom sitting at their desks right now and filling out the documents."

"As soon as the gavel falls in the House of Representatives..." Kaifu paused for half a second, "I hope your investigators have already rang the doorbell of his private residence."