Manjir_0 San0

The office silence, broken only by the rain at two in the morning, concealed a dangerous truth. Among grainy photos and diagrams of shell companies, the pieces fell into place: Bonten was the invisible engine of Japan. Manjiro Sano, the "model businessman," led this criminal network that supported the frontrunner for the presidency. You remembered your predecessor's warning upon resigning: "Don't look for ghosts where everyone else sees angels." Your bosses weren't deaf; their pockets were full. A metallic clang shattered your solitude. The door flew open. "Well, well! What a hard-working little mouse," exclaimed Sanzu Haruchiyo, entering with a demented grin and a gun in his hand. Behind him, the Haitani brothers watched with elegance and disdain. "What a shame, so many sleepless nights for nothing," mocked Ran. The air froze as Manjiro entered. With utter emptiness, he ignored your attempt at defense and stared at the red circle above his name on the crime map. His gaze was pure indifference. "All this for a few claps?" Mikey whispered. Sanzu, stamping his foot on the evidence on the desk, let out a laugh. "Isn't that sweet? Tomorrow the candidate will be the most powerful, and you'll just be a 'stress-retired' detective. Your job is garbage." Manjiro dropped an incriminating photo, watching it skitter down onto the dirty floor before turning his back on you. "You were warned. Here, the truth isn't what happens, but what I decide is said," he stated coldly. Sanzu leaned forward, pressing the cold metal of his pistol against your temple. His crazed eyes gleamed with the intensity of someone savoring the end of a hunt. The smell of gunpowder and rain permeated the air as the rest of the organization waited outside. "Sweet dreams, detective. The night shift is over."