Chapter 1: Humiliating Submission to the Female Traffic Police Officer

"Skree~"

"Excuse me, pull over. You were speeding just now; that’s a three-point deduction."

Miyamoto Yumi knocked on the car window, took out her pen, and began writing a ticket. Just as she was about to tear it off to hand to the person inside, a 1,000-yen bill drifted out from the window.

"Keep the change."

With that, the man in the car reached to roll up the window.

"Wait!" Miyamoto Yumi pressed her hand against the glass, her eyes narrowing with a hint of hostility.

Are you doing this on purpose?

Miyamoto Yumi said with a stern face, "I said a three-point deduction from your driver's license! Don't think you can just brush this off!"

Hearing Miyamoto Yumi’s words, Sumitomo Shoichi let out an "Oh," and took the 1,000-yen note back from her hand.

"Driver's license? I don't have one of those," Shoichi said naturally, reaching for the window again.

By now, Miyamoto Yumi was already prying at the car door. "Great, so you're driving without a license too!"

In all her time as a traffic cop, Miyamoto Yumi had never seen someone so brazen.

"What do you mean 'driving without a license'? Why are you being so rude?" Shoichi said, sounding displeased. "I wanted to take the test, but they said there was something wrong with my brain and wouldn't let me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Get out of the car!"

Miyamoto Yumi tugged at Shoichi’s car door, her movements quite rough.

Shoichi looked at his car with a pained expression and complained, "Can you be a little gentler? I just got this car; there might not even be a second one like it in all of Tokyo."

"Got it?"

"Well, 'got' isn't quite right. I picked it up."

"Picked it up? I think you mean stole it, don't you?" Miyamoto Yumi pulled out her handcuffs.

This was no longer just a simple case of speeding.

Shoichi was once again dissatisfied with the Japanese policewoman’s rude remarks and retorted, "You really are unpleasant. What do you mean 'stole'? I saw the car sitting there all alone, and I was afraid it was lonely, so I took it out for a walk."

He was a kind man full of vehicular compassion.

"Do you have a health insurance card?"

"What's that?" Shoichi asked, looking clueless.

"What about a Basic Resident Register Card?"

"I've been alive for nineteen years and I've never heard of these things," Shoichi said.

Miyamoto Yumi pinned Shoichi against the car door and slapped the handcuffs on him.

Great, he’s an undocumented person too.

"Wait! Why do you smell like alcohol?" Miyamoto Yumi suddenly sniffed at Shoichi.

Shoichi struggled and said, "I had some liqueur chocolates."

"Really?"

"I love telling the truth." Shoichi looked perfectly calm.

Miyamoto Yumi took out a black electronic device and said to Shoichi, "Blow into this."

Shoichi obeyed and took a deep breath, inhaling sharply against the device.

"Alcohol content exceeds the limit."

"You're lying!"

Shoichi panicked. He knew whether or not his blood alcohol level was over the limit!

This cop was trying to twist the facts. Now that he was in handcuffs, the next step would be forced confessions. Shoichi would never yield to an evil female police officer.

Miyamoto Yumi said with a cold face, "Then blow into it again."

Shoichi took another sharp breath against the device.

"Alcohol content exceeds the limit."

Shoichi said angrily, "You're not even pretending anymore, are you? I was inhaling against that thing just now!"

Didn't see that coming, did you? I played you. Let's see how you explain your false accusation now.

"Hah!"

Miyamoto Yumi sneered, clipped her walkie-talkie back onto her belt, and mocked, "That was a walkie-talkie! What? You didn't drink, but you can't even recognize a walkie-talkie?"

Didn't see that coming, did you? I played you too.

Shoichi fell silent.

"I thought you loved telling the truth?" Miyamoto Yumi taunted him.

Shoichi whispered, "Actually, I do like to tell a little lie every now and then."

"Hmph! Come with me to the station."

Miyamoto Yumi pulled Shoichi toward her motorcycle, intending to transport this eccentric character—the likes of which she hadn't encountered in years—to the station.

Shoichi dragged his feet, as stubborn as a donkey.

"Can I not go? My dad is in there too. We have some issues, and if I go, we're going to fight," Shoichi said.

Miyamoto Yumi frowned and asked, "Your father is a policeman?"

How could a policeman's son be raised like this? His father must be incredibly incompetent.

"No, he's locked up in prison," Shoichi mumbled.

If I go in there too, we'll be father and son classmates. That's a bit awkward.

Miyamoto Yumi’s mouth twitched. Well, that’s a family tradition, then.

"Do you have any other guardians?"

"Yeah, I have a great-aunt. Her business card is in my pocket," Shoichi said.

Miyamoto Yumi reached out to retrieve the card.

"Not the jacket pocket, the back pocket," Shoichi said.

Miyamoto Yumi reached for Shoichi’s backside with a blank expression.

Who knew Shoichi would start wiggling? "Hey! What are you doing touching my butt!?"

"Behave yourself!" Miyamoto Yumi gave Shoichi a sharp slap.

Shoichi wore a look of humiliation, forced to swallow his pride while being bullied by this evil female traffic cop.

Miyamoto Yumi put Shoichi on the motorcycle.

Speeding, driving without a license, drunk driving, car theft, undocumented, and a father currently doing time—this guy had every debuff stacked to the max.

She, Miyamoto Yumi, had been a traffic cop for years; what hadn't she seen?

But a guy like this? She truly had never seen one before.

...

At the police station, an old officer felt his scalp tingle as he looked at the items confiscated from Shoichi.

Miyamoto Yumi only had to drop Shoichi off at the station, but he had a lot more to consider.

From these documents and Shoichi’s own statements, he had gathered some information about his identity.

Half-Japanese, half-Chinese, dual citizenship in the UK and US, graduated from Caltech at nineteen, and currently employed at a major Japanese corporation.

That major corporation was Sumitomo Bank—the very same "Zaibatsu Bank" known as Sumitomo.

Working in the exclusive vault of a zaibatsu, his connections and influence went without saying.

While in Europe, he had joined vegetarian clubs and environmental organizations, becoming a prominent member.

During his studies in the US, he participated in numerous social activities and had contact with many celebrities.

He had even participated in movements like "Black Lives Matter," "Minority Rights Advocacy," and "Feminism," and was entangled with many people.

These connections were enough to make one's scalp tingle, yet Shoichi’s age in Japan was still considered a minor—only 19, while adulthood in Japan was 20.

Furthermore, among that pile of documents was a certificate of "mental abnormality."

He was also mentally ill!

How was he supposed to punish him?

He feared that if he just kept him at the station for a few days of "proper hospitality," countless people from both home and abroad would come to condemn him. The trouble would be far too great.

And that was just the trouble regarding Shoichi himself, not even mentioning his family background.

He had already investigated; Shoichi’s family background in Japan was also incredibly powerful, far beyond what a small-time cop like him could offend.

Oh, and he didn't even really need to investigate; the surname alone said it all.