Atreus, shocked at the news of the murder, takes a moment to gather his thoughts, “...Where? How is it related to us?” he forces out the most simple questions in an attempt to gauge the severity of the crime.
“Firstly, he was killed here, in Kyoba. His body was found in the alleys between Horizon View Apartments and a convenience store. However, we don't know who the killer is, or even if they were related to the Sanada-gumi at all, but it won't take long for people to assume they are.”
“Do you think someone inside the Sanada-gumi did this?”
Okada shakes his head, “I don't have proof, but it's highly unlikely. Every family leader knows to beat it into their subordinates' heads to stay away from Atmos Dynamics. If the culprit is within our ranks, then this would be a deliberate act of betrayal. If the murderer is an outside party, then they could be framing us. Or, by a terrible stroke of bad luck, this is all some unfortunate coincidence caused by some scuffle that happened between the deceased and some mugger or drunkard. I don't know.”
“I guess we won't get far on conjecture,” Atreus comments with a small sigh. “So, what's the worst case scenario here? What if we're tied to the murder and it's made public?”
“First, our relationship with Atmos would disintegrate entirely. Even at the risk of implicating themselves, they would probably come forward with the fact that we're shareholders just to get rid of us. I have no doubt in my mind that they can afford the best lawyers to drum up reasons as to why our stake in the company is illegitimate – probably claim we forced them to offer shares under duress or something, taking advantage of a business that was too small to fight back decades ago.”
“That'd put us under a huge media spotlight, wouldn't it?”
“Yes. The upper echelon of the clan, like the chairman and I, would probably be watched by law enforcement day in and day out until it blows over, which would take months. And we'd lose the largest source of income for the Sanada-gumi,” Okada adds while leaning forward to set his glass on the table, hitting a coaster with enough agitated force to make an audible thud. “As far as the public knows, us owning a stake in Atmos Dynamics is only a vaguely unfounded rumor with a trail that goes cold before any real connection can be discovered. In thirty years, we've managed to keep our tracks covered in increasingly complicated ways. But all of that effort goes down the drain if Atmos are the ones who give us up anyway.”
“So where do I come in?” Atreus asks with clear inquisitiveness, finally wanting to get to the meat of the discussion and find out why he's getting involved.
The advisor lifts his hand, as if expecting something to fall into it, “Rachel, hand me the folder on my desk,” he commands the android, who had been standing idle near the entrance since the start of the conversation.
“Yes, Mr. Okada,” she replies while stiffly but briskly walking towards the black desk a ways behind Okada's leather chair. She grabs a beige folder, thin with only a few sheets of paper, and brings it to the advisor, placing it directly in his lifted hand before taking a couple steps back and reverting back to a standby posture with her hands clasped together in front of her like a humble servant.
Rachel – and Justin, on the first floor – are manufactured by a company called Fritz Robotics, one of the global leaders in the field. They're also responsible with a lot of job automation technology, though their greatest, most profitable creations are their androids, first conceived in a joint effort with NASA as controllable, risk-free labor for the slowly-growing colonies on Mars. They've since found their way into households of the upper class as servants, as well as the workforce. However, while they look nearly indistinguishable from actual people, save for the lights on their necks, they're still not capable of abstract thought processes like humans are. Currently, they're only competent in basic physical labor and menial accounting and secretarial work that involves little to no improvisation. That combined with how expensive they are means it's rare for non-owners to really encounter one in their day-to-day life.
“Here,” Okada places the folder on the table, near Atreus, “a profile on the deceased. While our relationship with Atmos is on rough waters, we still have quite a few people still personally loyal to us on the inside. I had this information hand-delivered this morning, before you got here. Can't trust it to be sent digitally.”
Atreus picks up the folder and thumbs through the sheets of basic information on the victim, including name, address, education, known social media accounts, and multiple references from past employers, some of which seem to be family members. Realizing the implication of being handed this folder, the gangster looks up with blatant bewilderment.
“You want me to investigate this murder?” he asks, shocked as the mere thought. “I figured I was some sort of middle man here. I've never done anything like this before. Why me?”
“I know this is a big job,” ahe advisor raises his hands, trying to calmly reassure his understandably reluctant subordinate. “But, for obvious reasons, you're the only person I can trust to do this. I can't have overly ambitious family patriarchs on this, nor random, greenhorn foot soldiers. I need someone who is simply competent and who has proven themselves loyal. I also want this kept low key, so a large-scale manhunt won't do.”
Atreus understands his superior's point of view, but still twists his face with inner conflict, “This is a huge responsibility you're putting on me despite having no experience with this sort of thing. Can't this be left up to the police?”
“I know this is a lot to ask, and that this isn't your field of expertise. If you aren't successful, I'm not going to punish you, by banishment or otherwise. I just want someone dependable on this. We can't leave this solely to the police, because they've almost certainly zeroed in on the Sanada-gumi as the culprit by now. I have no doubt that they're conducting their investigation under the preconceived notion that we murdered the victim with intent. But my personal belief is that's it was committed by someone from the outside, and we need to prove that before the cops dig too deep into our connection with Atmos or find evidence that could implicate us.”
“So I'm also working under a somewhat strict time limit, as well...” the burdened gangster remarks while slumping his shoulders with noticeable dejection. He pauses to rub his forehead, still nervously apprehensive of taking on such a massive task. Many things could go wrong, and many dead ends could impede his progress. Though he's already been guaranteed no personal punishment would befall him for failing, a greater misfortune could strike the entire clan if he doesn't succeed; he certainly doesn't wish to shoulder such an outcome for the rest of his days.
“If you think it'll help you, I'm more than willing to allow you to seek assistance from anyone you see fit, including police if you deem it totally necessary. I only ask that you keep it contained to people you truly know and trust. If there really is a traitor within the Sanada-gumi, we can't let them know we have our own investigation going. As of right now, Ryuji is the only other one aware of me assigning this job to you.”
“Not even the chairman knows?” Atreus asks, surprised at the thought that even the Sanada-gumi's leader is being kept in the dark about it.
“He knows I'm giving this job to someone, but he doesn't know I'm giving it to you, specifically. The less he knows, the better he can deny any involvement in case anything goes too far south. I need to keep him as far away from this incident as I can, otherwise any connection to him can be used as evidence that we're the perpetrators in this crime. It's bad enough that it happened on our turf at all.”
Atreus looks back down at the deceased's profile, William Ian Camlin, only twenty-five years old, and a graduate from Stanford. His attached portrait shows off his shaggy, curly brown hair and thick glasses, but also features his young, fresh-faced enthusiasm with a glowing smile. It was the expression of a young man who was happy to work at such an influential company and eager to create innovative new technology.
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“So can you do this for me?” Okada asks, leaning forward with clear hope of a positive reply. “Or at least try? You'd be doing the entire clan a favor. A huge one.”
The contemplative gangster doesn't answer immediately and continues staring at Will's picture – the face of someone with a bright future whose life was cut short before his potential in the industry could fully manifest. The more Atreus thinks about it, the more curious he becomes. How did this person meet his untimely demise in Kyoba? Was he tied to Sanada-gumi – or any aspect of the underworld – in any way beyond the financial ties that connect Atmos to the clan? Or was this all truly an unfortunate string of poorly timed and poorly placed accidents? A tiny spark of intrigue gleams in the augmented man's mind.
“If... you really think I'm the only person you can trust to do this,” Atreus begins in a low, melancholic voice, “then I should at least give a genuine try. I can't make any promises though,” he looks back up with eyes that hold some reservations, but still glint with some determination.
“A sincere effort is all I ask for, Watanabe-kun. Thank you,” Okada finally leans back again, feeling a gargantuan weight lifted off his shoulders. He punctuates his relief with a drawn out sigh, “I'm not expecting you to work miracles or anything. You can do this at your own pace, however you see fit. If you need my assistance in any way, let me know – preferably in person, because you never know who might be listening – and I'll do what I can.”
“Before I go, are there any other details about the murder that you can share? You've already given me the time and place, but method could also help, I'd imagine.”
The advisor gives only a small head shake, “All I know is that he was shot. Don't know with what kind of gun, or how many times. Just that he was shot. I was notified of the crime in the first place by the Hoshino family.”
“Alright,” Atreus hangs his head sullenly, hoping for a bit more of a lead than that. At the moment, all he has to go on is the information in the victim's work profile and the time and place of the murder. With no real dots to connect to, he'll have to create his own and hope they link to something of consequence.
“I know it feels like I'm dumping you into a forest without clothes or a compass, but if solving this were obvious, then I wouldn't need to ask you to help at all,” Okada admits with a guilty shrug.
“I'll see what I can do,” the reluctant detective responds with increasing irritation as he stands from the sofa. “I'll probably have Ryuji and Devin assist me on this, since I trust them the most out of anyone else in the clan.”
“If you feel like they can contribute, then by all means,” Okada stands as well, and holds out his right hand as gesture of thanks and good will. “Thank you for this, Atreus. I mean it.” Atreus grabs it with a firm grip and shakes it, though the forced enthusiasm in the gesture contradicts the clear inner conflict shown on his face. The advisor continues to give unabashed encouragement, “I'm sure it seems like you're always doing something for me every time you see me, but I swear, your hard work will pay off someday – hopefully sooner rather than later, especially if I had my way.”
“Thanks, oyaji,” Atreus can only muster a modest reciprocation of Okada's kind sentiments. “I believe you when you say that. I'll let you know if I find anything significant.”
“I look forward to it.”
With nothing left to discuss, Atreus takes his leave, exiting the luxurious office as Rachel courteously holds the door open for him. When he steps back out into the hallway, he turns his head back in time to see Okada sitting again, leaning forward with his forehead in his hand, looking overcome with exhaustion before the door shuts and obscures his view. The whole ordeal must've been quite a toll on the advisor over the last several hours, as its implications are vast and entirely detrimental to the Sanada-gumi.
Once outside, as Atreus stands beyond the headquarters' sturdy steel gate, a new silver, Automa-branded vehicle pulls up to him. With his free hand – the other still clasping the folder – he scans his QR code and enters, and his ride to the Asano family office begins. During the silent journey, he listlessly looks over Will Camlin's profile again, going back and forth between the few pages as if new information would conjure itself in the time it takes to flip through them, like a hungry man closing and reopening a refrigerator, hoping more food would magically appear. Where is he supposed to start this investigation? Should he go to the scene of the crime? Break into Camlin's apartment? Call an audible and go with his gut, which is currently contemplating a visit with the Hoshino family? He's not a member of the police force, so he isn't bound by any sanctioned ethics, but he's bound by his oath to the clan to simply not make things worse. The problem is that he isn't sure how do that.
As he's lost in his own internal sea of self-doubt, his ride pulls up to his destination: a five-floor office building near the southwest corner of Kyoba, an unassuming stone-colored complex that stands out in no real way compared to the other two bookending it. For all intents and purposes, it's the ideal spot for the modest Asano family.
Atreus exits the vehicle and casually walks into the building, cutting through the lobby and past several low-ranking Asano family members in normal, non-formal streetwear who bow with respect and reverence to their superior. He casually ignores the meager entourage and makes a straight line for the elevator, where he hits the button for the top level. Soon after, the doors slide open again to reveal the barren hallway of the fifth floor, it's only real décor being the expensive grey marble tiles below his feet. He reaches a closed door at the very end of the hall, turns the lever, and enters with utmost comfort and familiarity.
Inside is only two people; first is Devin, who shoots up from the couch in the center of the room, his face flushed with the glistening of nervous sweats. The second is Ryuji Asano, the family patriarch, who, in contrast to his younger subordinate, was waiting patiently and stone-faced at his desk in the corner of the room.
Ryuji's presence is one that overwhelms others in the same room if they aren't used to him. He stands just over six feet, with an athletic, broad-shouldered frame. His dark hair is a tad too short to be stylized in any manner, so the strands simply rest forward along the top of his head. The stern expression on his face is exacerbated by his strong jawline covered in rough stubble, and especially the small scar that crosses from above the left corner of his lips diagonally down to the right of his chin.
“So? What did he want to talk to you about?” Devin immediately asks, clearly anxious to hear why his friend was called to headquarters on short notice.
“It was about the murder last night,” Atreus answers with a somber tone, unwittingly clutching the folder in his hand with a tighter grip.
“He doesn't think you did it, did he? You were with me when it happened,” Devin begins to ramble, fearing the worst.
Atreus holds his hand up to signal him to calm down, “No, he didn't.” Before he explains further, he closes the door behind him and walks to the wooden table in front of the couch, placing the folder on it, “He actually asked me to investigate it.”
“What?” the previously distraught gangster is quickly overcome with confusion. “What do you mean? What's in the folder?”
“It's information on the victim – a profile from his job. Name's Will Camlin.”
“Did Okada-san give you the okay to let others get involved, Atreus?” Ryuji interjects with his commanding voice as he stands from his desk to approach. “If Devin isn't allowed to know, then don't give away too many details.”
“Okada said I can let others help me if I trust them,” Atreus responds, his face still slightly straining with consideration of burdening his friend with this monumental task as well. “For a job like this, I think that'd be limited to only you two, but some others might need to be in the know if they're important to it.”
“Wait, why is this such a big deal?” Devin, who is still in the dark about the most crucial details, asks with increasing urgency. “Why is there so much secrecy about one murder here in Kyoba? I figured Okada was only upset because it happened on Sanada-gumi turf. Who was this person?”
“He was an Atmos Dynamics employee,” Atreus bluntly reveals as he throws himself into the single-person chair adjacent to the table.
“Oh, shit...”
“Other than the profile in that folder, what do you have to go on?” Ryuji asks, leaning onto the backrest of the couch.
The reluctant detective strokes his chin as he looks at the beige folder on the table, “As far as Okada knows, the only other details about the murder is that the victim was shot, and the scene of the crime is an alley next to Horizon View Apartments. But you already knew those details, right?”
“Yeah,” the patriarch answers with a nod. “I was hoping more information would've come in between the time he called me and the time you met with him, but I suppose the police must've swarmed the crime scene before any of our boys could find anything else out.”
“The police are probably assuming someone in the clan did it, considering where it happened and the rumors of our ties to Atmos.”
“Does Okada think otherwise?” Devin asks, sitting back down on the couch after gathering his bearings. “Does he think someone outside of the clan did it?”
“He thinks so, yes. But obviously, there's no definitive proof of that yet.”