I was spotted, and my mind immediately kicked into overdrive.

If I were an agent right now, I would have smacked the man unconscious and pretended to be a burglar. Burglary gone wrong is a known strategy to play out when infiltration goes wrong. That would lead the police here, and my investigation would be done. I would have to flee ASAP or make the man disappear if I wanted to keep the police out for a few days. But I wasn't an agent. Then it dawned on me:

"I don't have to lie. I AM a journalist, and I AM investigating the disappearance of this man's daughter." I thought with a gentle bliss. I silently removed the hacking USB device from the laptop in a manner he couldn't see and I raised my hands gliding it down the sleeve.

"I shouldn't demonstrate any martial training." I assessed. As I was formulating my thoughts in Japanese, the man cursed at me.

I turned to face Hiroshi Watanabe, Haruka's father. He was younger than I'd thought, mid-40s rather than 60s. Large for a Japanese man, about my size. His face was flushed with anger and alcohol, a beer bottle clutched in his hand like a weapon.

"Who... who the hell are you?" he slurred, swaying slightly.

I raised my hands slowly. "Mr. Watanabe, relax, this is a misunderstanding, I can explain-"

"Explain?" he interrupted, his words slightly jumbled. "You're... you're with that bastards! Stealing my daughter's work!"

Before I could react, his fist slammed into my solar plexus, surprisingly strong despite his inebriation. I folded slightly, gasping, but was fine, I could take a lot of beating before losing the ability to win the fight.

"No," I wheezed, backing away. "I'm... investigating your daughter's disappearance."

Hiroshi lunged for me, trying to grab my neck. "Liar! She is... is gone!"

I dodged, circling the small room. "The accident... didn't it seem strange to you?"

He flew at me with a clumsy kick, still managing to drive me into the wall. It was quite painful, but not as debilitating to hinder me. I decided that this was enough of me taking a beating and I would knock him out if he hit me again. I didn't want my wounds to open.

"Strange?" Hiroshi's voice cracked, confusion evident in his tone. "What... what do you mean?" I caught my breath.

"A road where trucks aren't allowed. No CCTV in the area. Perpetrator not found. Cremation in three days. In Tokyo where it takes usually a wek or more, that's... abnormal, don’t you think so."

The bottle slipped from his hand spilling the beer on the ground. Hiroshi's eyes widened, his hands shaking as he struggled to process my words.

"Who... who are you really?" he mumbled, his anger giving way to bewilderment and alcohol.

"Someone who thinks your daughter might still be alive."

Hiroshi's face cycled through shock, hope, and suspicion, the alcohol seemingly clearing from his system.

"Talk, NOW!" he bellowed. At this moment I was glad that it was not an apartment with thin walls.

At that moment I tasted bits of metal in my mouth, which wasn't the best feeling. It looked like my wound slightly opened from the strike before. I though I should have stayed at home for a few more weeks. There wasn't much bleeding and had almost stopped. It was painful, but not even close to what had been in the hospital. Hiroshi, still full of distrust, was keeping me at a distance and ordered me downstairs. I guess he didn’t feel well in his daughter’s room. We sat around the table, the ad break just ended.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"Ah, I forgot about the added time of a couple of minutes after each half." I berated myself in my mind. That explained how I got caught.

"Talk," Hiroshi demanded again, his eyes never leaving me.

I laid out the evidence: the trucks, the lack of CCTV, the neglected areas, the police apathy, the hurried cremations.

In the process of confirming that it was the same crematorium, and as a single father for the last few years, the municipality assisted in organizing the cremation and funeral as he was too stunned to arrange anything

"How did you know about the cremation?" Hiroshi's voice was hoarse.

"I didn't. I guessed. It fits the pattern." I leaned forward. "Did you see her body?"

Hiroshi's face crumpled.

"No. They... they said it would be too shocking. Just showed me her tattoo on the wrist under the blanket. It was her hand." His eyes watered and his voice wavered.

“First destabilize.” I thought to myself “A universal rule taught to all agents, I already won, I can give him anything, and he will eat out of my hand.” I hid my grid from appearing on my face.

"Mr. Watanabe, I think your daughter might have been taken, not killed." I proceeded.

"Taken? By who? Why?"

I pretended to hesitate. "It might be dangerous for you to know."

Hiroshi's palm cracked across my face. "This is my daughter!" The Korean team scored in the background, but Hiroshi didn't notice.

I rubbed my cheek, this was going way better than anticipated. His reaction meant that he already believed that I knew things.

"Most likely your daughter is fine and working now for Secret Services." I gave him a couple of supporting evidence while skipping over anything that might debunk it.

I understood that it was very unlikely given factors like Yamamoto's cancer, or Yoshiro's overall state, but all was better than saying that his daughter was trafficked or committed suicide.

Hiroshi stared at me, hope and disbelief warring in his eyes. "Why should I believe you? Why shouldn't I call the police right now?"

I met his gaze. "Because if I'm right, this might be your only chance to see Haruka again. If I'm caught, that chance disappears. If I get to the truth, she will simply be discharged, and you will meet again."

“I’ll go to the newspapers, I know someone there..” He talked frantically before I cut him short.

“No, you won’t. If you do that you will endanger your daughter by blowing off her cover if she is already deployed.”

Silence stretched between us. Finally, Hiroshi spoke, his voice rough. "Get out. Before I change my mind."

I nodded and quickly left the house and disappeared into the night. I didn't have a chance to ask whom he confused me with, as it would have made me sound less credible. That was a problem for later.

Ice-cold coffee from the vending machine was cooling down the cheek Hiroshi slapped as I headed home. "It would suck to have a beaten-up face tomorrow" I lamented.

On my way back I tried to access Haruka's PC through the malware my hacking device automatically installed, but something didn't work, maybe it had no internet access, or Hiroshi turned it off.

As I got into my futon, a message came from Josh with his findings. The crematorium had been purchased through child companies by "Ryūnosuke Press And Entertainment" 2 years ago. They were a major player in fiction book publishing, and were one of the biggest donors of "The Last Hope."

I looked up their website. It had a lot of novels and manga. I remembered some of the names due to their ridiculousness. I searched for "librarian": "My happy reincarnated life as the smartest librarian can't go without adventures" by HaruRise was there.