Love Healing Manual

Chapter 73 Tokyo Bay

"She's been sick for a long time, which is why she can't come to school. It's best... not to talk about these things in private. If she finds out, she might be thrown into Tokyo Bay to feed the fish."

While the group was gossiping, Miyagi Suzuo gently reminded them from the side.

The crowd fell silent abruptly.

"Hey...hey hey hey fish?" Otomo Shoji was taken aback, his eyes widening.

"Is it so scary?"

"I thought this kind of thing only existed a few decades ago."

“If it’s a conglomerate, they’re capable of anything. I suggest we stop discussing this.” Sano Chizuru was already a little scared.

In fact.

Miyagi Suzuo didn't mean to scare Lin Ze's friends; her reminder was very sincere because, from any perspective, Nishimiya Shinki was a crazy woman, extremely willful.

In recent years, it has become increasingly worse.

If she were to hear herself being talked about so freely, it's hard to say what outrageous things she might do.

She's definitely not someone you should mess with.

"Hey, if the conglomerates are really this terrifying, then Miyagi-kun probably also has the embarrassing hobby of feeding fish in Tokyo Bay, right? After all..." Yamazaki Yu stopped halfway through his sentence.

"Impossible. Miyagi-kun doesn't seem like that kind of person at all."

"That's right."

"Me? I usually wouldn't." Miyagi Suzuo smiled slightly.

however.

The others saw this smile and, for some reason, felt a chill run down their spines.

……

Let's rewind to two days ago.

night.

Outside a restaurant, Dr. Murakami, who had just finished eating, paced back and forth with his phone in hand, seemingly hesitant to make a call, his face full of tension.

He smelled of alcohol; he had been feeling really down at the restaurant, so he ordered sake.

He didn't understand why people could be so unlucky.

Recalling the scene from that afternoon, Murakami felt like slapping himself a few times. In fact, he already had, as he fumed in the deserted alley.

Murakami had no idea that the two interns had such powerful backgrounds after he casually bullied them. As a senior, disciplining interns had become one of his essential pleasures every year, and he had never gotten into trouble like today.

He also had connections; his uncle worked for the Tokyo Medical Committee, so he was used to acting recklessly. Sometimes, when Director Niijima reprimanded him, he never took it to heart.

But now, remembering the director's words telling him to tone down his brilliance and act with composure, it was too late for regrets.

Things have already come to this.

In order to retain his position at the University of Tokyo Hospital, Murakami felt he had to come up with a plan; he couldn't just sit idly by and wait for his doom.

If he pretends that the matter is over and goes home to sleep, he might be transferred in a few days because he stepped into the central consultation building with his left foot first.

Murakami knew he had some issues with his personality, being arrogant and dissolute, but he believed his attitude towards medicine was fine. He worked hard for three or four years, and after Dr. Tomura endured a little longer and was promoted, the position of assistant doctor in the department was his turn.

At that time, even the position of attending physician will be within reach.

He couldn't possibly accept that all his hard work had been destroyed in one day.

More importantly, he stayed at the University of Tokyo Hospital.

Countless people would do anything to get into this top-tier hospital in Japan, which boasts not only the best doctors but also top-notch medical resources and ample funding.

Other doctors need technical and cutting-edge equipment support, while internists are more dependent on medical resources. If they want to research cutting-edge technologies, they have to burn through real money.

In other words, if you go to a small hospital, that's how your life will be.

Murakami mentally prepared his explanation, figuring out how to tell his uncle what had happened. Of course, he couldn't take all the blame on himself, or he would seem too foolish.

He paced back and forth by the streetlight, talking to himself.

suddenly.

A pure black sedan appeared from around the street corner, its thick headlights piercing the darkness as it drove very slowly.

Then came the second car, also black, and the two cars drove steadily, one in front of the other.

There aren't many people on this road; there are hardly any pedestrians.

The restaurant sign with rainbow lights flickered, illuminating Murakami's face under the streetlights. Oblivious to what was about to happen, he continued muttering to himself, occasionally letting out a sigh.

however.

The two cars were parked on the side of the road, obscuring his figure. From the other side of the street, Murakami was no longer visible.

The black car window slowly rolled down, revealing a cold, indifferent man's face in the passenger seat.

“Hey kid,” the man lowered his sunglasses slightly, revealing a pair of dead fish eyes, and said in a low voice, “interested in going for a cup of tea?”

Dr. Murakami was taken aback and looked up blankly.

"Me...me?"

The next second, the car door was opened instantly, and two tall men in suits jumped out of the back seat, one of whom was holding an umbrella.

They took long strides, lunged forward, and grabbed Murakami, seizing both of his arms.

Everything happened so quickly.

Two cars and an umbrella perfectly shielded the camera on the other side of the road.

"Who are you? I... I don't want to have tea, let me go... let me go!"

Even someone with mental problems could sense something was wrong at this moment. Dr. Murakami struggled desperately and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Baka ya Lurrrrrr~" The distinctive neon tongue clicked out.

The man in the suit on the right delivered a precise elbow strike, slamming it into Murakami's abdomen.

Murakami instantly bent over like a shrimp, his mouth opened uncontrollably, veins bulging on his neck, and saliva spurted from his mouth.

The howling stopped instantly, and he could only manage a few whimpers from his throat, his brows contorted in pain.

In just a few seconds, Murakami had been roughly shoved into the back seat.

The engine roared to life, and the car carrying the villager started moving first, a cell phone being thrown out of the window.

The car behind followed, its tires accelerating relentlessly to run over the car.

It left behind shattered remains.

Just a moment.

The streets returned to silence, as if nothing had happened.

……

Inside the car, he was sandwiched between two men in suits, their hands gripping him like vises. Murakami's expression was one of terror; he was trembling all over with fear.

"What do you want? Let me tell you... my uncle is a member of the Tokyo Medical Association. If anything happens to me, he won't let... he won't let you off the hook."

Although his voice was trembling, he still threatened.

"Don't be afraid, Dr. Murakami. I've heard you enjoy tea, so I've specially invited you to try some of the fine teas from my hometown," the man in sunglasses in the front seat said quietly.

"I'm not going... Let go of me, I want to report—"

Before he could finish speaking, a rag was stuffed directly into his mouth, forcing his jaws open.

Soft music played gracefully inside the car, its rhythm gentle. As the music played, the man in the suit in the front seat tapped his fingers on his knees, nodding and swaying his head as if enjoying himself.

This is Bach's Prelude in C major, a popular classical piece that is solemn, serene, and full of vitality.

It embodies the ultimate expression of the "beauty of order".

……

Starting from Koto Ward, pass through Shinsa, and drive along the long, straight road from 3-chome all the way to Shinsa Park. Pass the Higashijima Junior Baseball Stadium, cross the Shin-Matsu Wakasu Bridge, and arrive at a remote port located in Kitakyushu, Tokyo.

Right next to the rows of production warehouses on the new sea surface.

The salty, damp smell of the sea can already be smelled.

Two cars were parked, one on the left and one on the right. Four headlights illuminated the dilapidated white railings ahead. On the other side of the railings, the wind blew across the eerie sea, and the sound of rushing water echoed in the air.

Two men in suits dragged Murakami out of the car and threw him at the intersection of the headlights of two vehicles.

He was so frightened that he was trembling all over. Due to the blinding light, Murakami could not see anything clearly, including the faces of the people in front of him. He could not even open his eyes wide and could only turn to the side of the light.

"I was wrong... I will never do it again. Please forgive me. I am willing to do anything and pay any price."

If his bones were still firm when he first got on the bus, they had now completely softened.

The ruthlessness of conglomerates is not an urban legend. These behemoths rule the entire Japanese market. What wouldn't they dare to do?

“I say,” the bespectacled man rolled up his sleeves and put his hands on his hips, “I heard you’re quite arrogant? You like drinking tea?”

"No, no, no... I just... I just didn't know the young lady's identity. If I had another chance, I would never dare to do this... I would never dare to do it!"

Murakami realized something and began slapping himself repeatedly.

They used both hands simultaneously, making a series of sharp, cracking sounds.

Because he was genuinely afraid of being thrown into the sea and disappearing forever, Murakami showed no mercy, as if he were slapping someone who wasn't even his own face.

"You arrogant and ignorant bastard!"

A flying kick came straight at him, the sturdy leather shoe striking his head.

Murakami felt a sudden dizziness, and he rolled several times before falling to the ground.

The forehead felt numb; there was no pain, only a burning, numb sensation.

His mind went blank for a long time before he came to his senses.

"I hate people who look down on others the most in my life. People like that deserve to die!" The man in sunglasses, who had appeared very elegant in the car, now seemed extremely violent.

He strode forward, grabbed Murakami by the hair, and forcibly pulled him up, looking at Murakami's blood-stained face.

"You not only have others pour tea for you, but I also heard you're provoking the young lady's crush? Your style... is quite tough, isn't it?"

"I...I was wrong. I kowtow and apologize. I kneel down. I'm so sorry!" Murakami actually started crying, his hands trembling as they were rubbed raw and bleeding. "I'll never do it again."

The man in sunglasses ignored him.

"Do you know that even the president of the company doesn't dare to say a bad word about the future son-in-law? Yet you try to intimidate him as a senior. I hate bullies the most..."

“I don’t know…” Murakami sobbed.

"Can you swim?"

"I won't, please don't throw me into the sea, I'll die... I really will die!"

But the words just fell.

Grabbing his hair, the man in sunglasses pulled him to the railing, making him lean half his body out to look down at the deep Tokyo Bay.

The sea ripples, and the wind is salty and damp.

"How about we have some sea tea?"

"I beg you... no, I deeply realize my mistake."

"Oh, you're such a hypocrite. You might tell that uncle tomorrow that you were treated unfairly, and that will cause us a lot of trouble."

"No, no, no, I've never seen you before, never."

"What happened to your injuries?"

"This is me, me walking! Yes, I tripped and fell while walking."

Hear the words.

The man in sunglasses clutched his stomach and sneered, and several men in suits next to him joined in the mockery, creating a particularly jarring cacophony of laughter.

"That was really an accident. What kind of stupid person could trip and fall like that?"

"I'm such an idiot..."

"Alright, looks like you're smart enough to know your place. From now on, don't stay in Tokyo. Someone doesn't want to see you anymore... So, should I just dump you in Tokyo Bay for convenience, or should you leave Tokyo on your own?"

"I'll leave on my own! I'll process the transfer tomorrow morning."

"It's a promise, I hate liars the most."

After saying that, Murakami began nodding vigorously, as if afraid that the other party would change his mind at any moment.

Suddenly, he felt a lightness on his head.

The other person released his grip, gave him a disdainful look, and then turned and strode away.

"Hey, Renji, don't you hate a lot of things?"

"Is there any?"

"That sounds a bit too cynical, like he's trying to make himself out to be so noble."

"Compared to people like that, I am indeed much more noble." The sunglasses-wearing man, known as Renji, shrugged.

The group of people looked particularly relaxed as they all got into the car and closed the doors.

After a while.

Outside the warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, only Dr. Murakami remained, standing there in a daze.

It felt like a dream.

The pain was so clear.

(End of this chapter)