The pri minister nodded slowly. "You're right. We must take responsibility for the national interest and the safety of more people. Continuing to pour resources into the recovery isn't a wise decision. So… end the search and rescue operation."
The eting quickly reached a resolution:
A week later, a press conference would be held to officially announce that "due to objective limitations, search and rescue can no longer continue." Local officials would be instructed to visit the victims' families more often as a form of consolation.
As for everything else, it would be handled accordingly.
At the end of the eting, the foreign minister followed procedure and read aloud the key nas from the list of victims. "…The Kato family. Toshio Kato-san and Mihoko Kato-san…"
When the Chief Cabinet Secretary heard the na, he added casually, "Toshio Kato? Co to think of it, his daughter, gumi Kato, seems to be working at that Genesis Company—"
"Individual cases cannot affect overall policy," the pri minister interrupted flatly. "This decision applies equally to all families."
"Yes!" the officials responded in unison.
…
…
That afternoon.
Inside the press briefing room at the Pri Minister's Residence, the lights were blinding, cara flashes turning the space white as day.
The Chief Cabinet Secretary—a middle-aged man with perfectly combed hair and a precisely calibrated look of sorrow—stood before microphones from dozens of dia outlets, reading from a carefully prepared statent in a tone saturated with "official regret."
"…Regarding Flight NH915 of ANA Airlines, which crashed in Southeast Asia Region A two months ago, our governnt has never once abandoned its efforts during these past two months."
"We repeatedly dispatched diplomatic teams to negotiate with the ard forces controlling the area, hoping to recover the remains of our 127 citizens and the aircraft's black box…"
He paused, letting out a heavy sigh, his performance worthy of an Oscar.
"But regrettably, due to the region's continued instability, local ard factions have ignored international humanitarian principles, made unreasonable demands we could not accept, and repeatedly threatened the safety of international rescue personnel. After exhausting all peaceful diplomatic avenues and carefully weighing the risk of triggering a larger humanitarian crisis, the governnt has, after difficult deliberation, decided—"
He emphasized the final words, as if in great pain.
"—to formally terminate on-site search and recovery operations for Flight NH915. We will provide additional compensation to all victims' families and express our deepest condolences for this tragedy."
The announcent sent shockwaves through the room.
The press conference imdiately descended into chaos. Reporters hamred their shutters, desperate to catch a glimpse of genuine emotion on the official's face. Instead, all they saw was a flawless politician's mask, honed through countless battles.
The room erupted.
Reporters leapt to their feet, arms raised high like a forest whipped by a violent wind.
"Sir! What exactly were these so-called unreasonable demands? Money, or sothing else?"
"Sir! Does this an the governnt admits it's powerless against the ard forces in that region?"
"After two months with no progress, why announce termination now? Were there undisclosed political considerations? Is this related to recent Southeast Asia strategy?"
Sharp questions fired at the podium like a barrage.
The Chief Cabinet Secretary rely adjusted his glasses, his sorrowful expression unchanged. In an excruciatingly slow, steady tone—enough to drive any impatient listener mad—he repeated his prepared lines:
"Specific details involve sensitive diplomatic information and are not suitable for disclosure."
"Our governnt remains committed to resolving disputes through peaceful dialogue, but we will never compromise with terrorism-style extortion."
"This decision was made after comprehensive consideration of national interests and public safety. There are no other motives behind it."
Every answer was airtight, each word landing precisely in the space where saying sothing amounted to saying nothing at all.
For the sharpest follow-ups, he simply bowed, apologized, and brushed them aside.
…
…
At the sa ti, in Minato Ward, inside the Toyokawa Family's private residence.
A small, exquisitely refined private dinner was underway.
The host was one of Tokyo's major local families—the Toyokawa Family.
The guest list spanned nurous industries, including beloved national codian Takafumi Wakaba and his wife, Minami Mori.
Inside, expensive agarwood incense burned slowly as attendants flowed through the room, serving the finest kaiseki cuisine.
The atmosphere was warm and relaxed—until the muted television in the corner flashed a breaking news banner.
On the screen, silent subtitles scrolled:
[Governnt Bulletin: Chief Cabinet Secretary announces formal termination of search and recovery operations for Flight NH915, which crashed two months ago, due to objective limitations.]
Toyokawa Sadaharu's hand paused mid-motion.
His gaze flicked toward the screen. In those cloudy old eyes that had seen through countless human hearts, a flash of complex emotion appeared.
His first reaction wasn't sympathy for the victims—it was the scent of a na.
Seiji Fujiwara.
Then another na surfaced in his mind.
gumi Kato.
Recently, Toyokawa Sadaharu had been keeping tabs on Seiji Fujiwara.
And the Toyokawa Family's intelligence network had inford him that among the victims were Toshio Kato and Mihoko Kato.
gumi Kato's parents.
And gumi Kato—that girl—was Seiji Fujiwara's new woman.
So… would Seiji Fujiwara make a move?
The thought struck Toyokawa Sadaharu like lightning.
Given the ruthless, no-expense-spared style Seiji had displayed when entering the film industry, doing sothing earth-shattering for his woman fit perfectly with his pattern.
But the idea lasted less than a second before Toyokawa Sadaharu dismissed it himself.
He sneered inwardly.
Impossible.
This involved disputed sovereignty, local ard forces, even great power maneuvering behind the scenes. It was a complete ss.
Nothing like the petty scuffles of the entertainnt world.
No matter how powerful Seiji was in Japan, his influence stopped at business and public opinion. Reaching into a place like that would be like trying to stop a chariot with a mantis.
And for a woman?
Toyokawa Sadaharu scoffed.
For people like them, won were like clothes—summoned at will, discarded just as easily.
To spend unimaginable sums, take enormous political risks, and do sothing even the state had abandoned… all for a woman?
Absolutely not.
That young man nad Seiji Fujiwara might comfort the girl, give her so money, maybe buy her another luxury bag to shut her up.
But nothing more.
With that, Toyokawa Sadaharu regained his composure, picked up his chopsticks again, as if the mont of doubt had never existed.
Still, that subtle change in his expression didn't escape another pair of sharp eyes.
Minami Mori.
A top-tier actress despite her young age, her powers of observation were already razor-sharp.
And since this was a Toyokawa Family banquet, part of her attention had been on Toyokawa Sadaharu all along. She noticed his reaction imdiately.
Following his gaze, she saw the news.
Her mind began racing.
Kato…?
She recalled the bits and pieces of gossip collected about Genesis Company while at her agency.
In one of Genesis's project teams, there was a young, pretty female intern—still a first-year high school student.
Yet many people addressed her respectfully as "Kato-san."
"Because she's Seiji Fujiwara's latest woman, and she's favored," Minami Mori murmured to herself.
She kept thinking.
Among the victims was a "Kato couple."
Kato?
So… the girl's parents?
For a mont, Minami Mori had the sa thought as Toyokawa Sadaharu.
Would Seiji Fujiwara do sothing for his little assistant?
But she imdiately laughed it off inwardly—more dismissively than Toyokawa Sadaharu himself.
No way.
How could soone so high above care about a trivial woman?
In her twenty-year career, Minami Mori had seen it countless tis.
Young girls chosen by powerful n were cherished at first. But the mont trouble arose—or the man grew bored—they were discarded faster than changing clothes.
In those n's world, won were just trophies. Sweet little desserts, disposable at any ti.
gumi was probably crying in so corner right now.
Seiji would likely say a few comforting words, toss her so money.
And if she dared to keep sulking and affect his mood, she'd be kicked aside without hesitation.
So-called favor crumbled instantly when faced with reality.
Minami Mori lifted her wineglass, took an elegant sip, and put the matter out of her mind.
…
…
Genesis Entertainnt, top floor, office.
Seiji was watching the sa news.
Unlike Toyokawa Sadaharu's calculations or Minami Mori's mockery, his face showed only a speechless sense of inevitability.
Typical of the Japanese governnt.
Passing the buck, dressing things up, using cold bureaucratic language to deal with burning public grief.
"So this is craftsmanship spirit?"
Seiji shook his head and turned off the TV.
He could imagine how gumi Kato must feel seeing that news.
His gaze hardened.
gumi was his woman.
If he lacked the ability, that would be one thing.
But now, a local ard group was still within his range of solutions.
It was just a matter of money.
And money, to the current Genesis empire, had long since beco a aningless number.
So there was no way he could look away.
Seiji picked up the internal phone and connected to the chief consultant of his private security company.
"Parker, it's ."
"Yes, boss. What can I do for you?" A steady, efficient voice ca through the line.
"I want to ask you sothing," Seiji said calmly. "Two months ago, Flight NH915 crashed in Southeast Asia Region A. Is there a way to fully recover the wreckage and all the victims' remains?"
Parker was clearly stunned by the sudden question.
After about ten seconds of silence—rapid analysis happening on the other end—he replied in a much heavier tone.
"Boss… it's possible. The chaos in that region is being stirred up by the Aricans, and a lot of PMC companies with military backgrounds are involved. Through our partners, it's not hard to find interdiaries who can talk directly to the local ard forces."
"But," Parker added, "the cost will be enormous. Those rcenaries are insatiable, and the middlen will take huge commissions."
The implication was obvious.
He assud Seiji would drop the idea once he heard the price.
But Seiji Fujiwara didn't hesitate.
"Arrange the teams. Start negotiations for recovery. Money isn't an issue."
Parker froze.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his shock, and replied solemnly, "Understood, boss! I'll make the arrangents imdiately!"
Beyond admiring how decisively his boss acted for his woman, Parker felt a surge of excitent.
Because he knew—if this deal went through, the boss wouldn't shortchange him either.
…
…
Inside Genesis's film project team, work was in full swing.
gumi sat at her intern's desk, staring blankly at the news notification on her phone.
The noise of colleagues discussing projects and printing docunts seed distant, fading away. In her world, only those cold lines of text remained.
"…Formally terminating search and recovery operations…"
Tears slowly welled up.
She hurriedly lowered her head, wiping them away with the back of her hand, afraid soone nearby might see.
For two months, she'd been hoping the governnt would bring back her parents' remains—even just a scrap of clothing, a single personal item.
Now, that last Hope was gone.
The first person she thought of was Seiji Fujiwara.
But the thought vanished as quickly as it appeared, crushed by her own reason.
Go to him—and say what? Cry and beg for help?
Don't be stupid, gumi Kato.
This was sothing even the state had given up on. A complex issue involving another country's ard forces. What could she possibly do?
And besides, what right did she have to ask him?
Everything she had already belonged to him. She owed him more than she could ever repay in her lifeti. How could she shalessly burden him with this?
He'd get annoyed.
So she absolutely couldn't go to him.
gumi took a deep breath, forcing all the grief and helplessness back into the deepest part of her heart.
She couldn't see him. At least, not today.
In her current state, she'd only make him unhappy.
eting him would just be awkward.
With that in mind, she stood up and walked over to the project team lead.
A capable woman in her thirties.
gumi Kato lowered her head and spoke as steadily as she could.
"Director Tanaka… do we need anyone to work overti tonight to organize materials? I'd like to apply for overti and learn more from my senpai."
Director Tanaka looked up at the pretty, well-behaved girl, a flicker of confusion crossing her eyes.
Overti?
Everyone in the company knew gumi was the boss's favorite.
She was here as an intern—nominally an assistant, but really to learn and experience things. She wasn't supposed to be treated like a Wage Slave.
On normal days, people tried to give her the easiest tasks possible, just hoping nothing went wrong.
And now she was volunteering for overti?
Director Tanaka was sharp. She imdiately sensed sothing was off.
"Oh… is that so? Well, there is a batch of materials that need organizing." She didn't press further, keeping a professional tone. "But per policy, interns need to submit an overti application explaining the reason. I can approve it after that. Go write the report first."
"Yes, thank you, Director." gumi bowed gratefully and returned to her seat.
Watching the girl's slightly frail back, Director Tanaka shook her head, picked up the internal phone, and dialed the CEO's secretary office directly.
She knew very well—this overti application wasn't sothing she could approve.
She needed Seiji Fujiwara's input.
…
…
Genesis Company office.
Seiji had just finished his call with the security consultant.
The internal line rang.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=
You can read up to chapter 190 on patreon/NiaXD.
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