He tried to save the fallen girls, but they came after him instead.

Matsushima frowned slightly, sensing that something was amiss.

When the principal brought the pills over to sell at the Nagasaki Club, Matsushima's subordinates even went to the laboratory clinic to check them out. The report showed that it was simply a female eyebrow tonic that only enhanced the "Starry Sky" effect and had no side effects on the body or mind.

Where does this addictive quality come from?

When Shirakawa saw the puzzled look on Matsushima's face, he immediately understood that she and the principal were not in cahoots.

She probably didn't know much about the drug's effects either, so Shirakawa immediately explained, "This drug has harmed many students at our school. Many of them were tricked by the principal into working at the Nagasaki Club, and now they're all lying in psychiatric wards because of this drug. You can look it up and you'll see."

Not right.

Matsushima leaned back in her chair, deep in thought. Although Matsushima would bring in the wives and daughters of debtors to pay off their debts, she would only subject them to physical suffering. She never made them work 996 (9am-9pm, 6 days a week) or oppress and exploit them. She would give them two days off each week, and she would arrange their meals and accommodations very well. She also arranged a high-class medical room for girls who were injured due to being trained too harshly to receive treatment.

Moreover, when signing the loan agreement, both the debtor and his wife and daughters were fully aware of the consequences of not being able to repay the money, and the interest rate was not considered usurious.

Matsushima has done everything he could.

As for the protests from some people who say that forcing these women to perform these sexual services to pay off debts is immoral.

Matsushima Management is an underground yakuza organization, not a charity. This is just a matter of suffering some dignity and physical pain.

If it were any other organized crime group, they would probably forcibly detain these people and sell them official positions.

If what Shirakawa said is true, and these girls were indeed corrupted and harmed by these pills, while he, as their leader, was kept in the dark, then the whole matter is not so simple.

Some people are deceiving their superiors and concealing the truth from their subordinates.

The Bamboo Cherry Blossom Society is about to unleash a storm of bloodshed.

“You,” Matsushima pointed to her most trusted bodyguard, “go and check if what he said is true.”

"Yes."

Shirakawa breathed a sigh of relief; he figured he wouldn't have to gamble his life anymore.

"What's wrong? You think you've escaped unscathed? It's not that easy."

Matsushima now has a bit of an appreciation for Shirakawa, but the game still has to be played.

She has not yet achieved her goal.

Matsushima bypassed the riot shield and picked up the medicine from the glass bottle.

"What's in here, Shirakawa-kun?" Matsushima leaned down, sniffing near Shirakawa's ear, his right arm wrapped around Shirakawa's head, the medicine in his hand waving in front of Shirakawa's eyes.

"This, this is also eyebrow medicine." Shirakawa's head gently touched Matsushima's fair arm, and he could smell the charming cherry blossom scent on Matsushima's body.

"Hey~ Does this medicine have any side effects?"

"No, no." Shirakawa shook his head.

"Alright! You said it yourself." Matsushima suddenly stood up, held Shirakawa's chin with his left hand, pinched his cheeks, and used his right thumb to pry open the rubber stopper, pouring all the liquid from the glass bottle into Shirakawa's mouth.

"Cough, no..." Shirakawa's voice quickly turned into coughing and swallowing sounds as he choked on water.

After Shirakawa finished drinking, Matsushima returned to her seat, parted a gap in the transparent riot shield, and stretched her flawless white legs across Shirakawa's table.

Shirakawa was panting heavily, his face flushed, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. When he saw those beautiful legs, it was as if he had seen some rare and delicious food, and he couldn't wait to hug them and lick them wildly.

"If you dare to touch me, you know what the consequences will be."

The other bodyguards stood nearby, guns in hand, ready to pounce.

"This way the game should be fairer."

190. The Angry Matsushima

The blond-haired senior looked at Shirakawa, who resembled a wild beast in heat.

Even though it was just gambling, and there was only a one in two chance of death, seeing the other person's chaotic and disheveled state of mind somehow eased my tension and panic a little.

This must be a psychological effect.

The blond-haired senior's trembling wrist gradually stabilized.

He took a deep breath, pointed the gun at his forehead, and silently repeated "one-sixth" to himself.

There is only a one in six chance of dying.

9五零⒈八０九0㈨

Muster your courage and pull the trigger.

Click!

The silver metal magazine spun around.

Call ~

Passed.

The blond-haired senior breathed a sigh of relief, his tense body relaxed, and he almost completely slumped into the chair. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and placed the gun on the table in front of Shirakawa.

As for Shirakawa, his situation is not optimistic.

His heart was pounding, not from nervousness or panic, but from his intense, unreleased lust.

Shirakawa felt his skin and every corner of his body screaming, yearning for the touch of the opposite sex. His mind was filled with nothing but love and lust.

His own consciousness was like that of a traveler trapped in a fog, holding a kerosene lamp that represented chastity and restraint, groping forward in a fog called lust, where he would be completely submerged if he was not careful.

Matsushima looked at her with a smile. Her bare, pure white feet were soft and tender, with a slight blush. Her ten toenails were neatly trimmed, making her very cute.

Two slender, long legs were crossed, and upon closer inspection, there were cherry blossom and bamboo tattoos on the sides of the thighs, seemingly extending all the way to the buttocks.

Shirakawa breathed heavily, the holy sword pressing fiercely against his pants, its ferocity and sturdiness reaching all the way to his lower abdomen.

"Hehe, it's quite big." Matsushima joked, while his big toe exerted a little force, causing the other toes to "nod and lower their heads" slightly, which was quite "playful and cute".

There was also a faint smell of foot odor, which was actually a captivating and alluring fragrance to Shirakawa.

Matsushima was clearly trying to seduce Shirakawa into breaking down.

Shirakawa gritted his teeth, desperately trying to hold back, as countless fantasies of love kept flashing through his mind.

He wanted to put those beautiful feet in his mouth, he wanted to let the toes slide wildly into his mouth.

He even felt that he would be willing to die if he could taste those beautiful legs and feet.

"Your turn." Matsushima tapped the exquisite revolver with his chubby heel.

Shirakawa picked him up and held him to his head.

All I could think about was, "Hurry up, shoot me dead."

This way, before his consciousness completely dissipates before he dies, he can take the opportunity to touch and rub those beautiful feet.

No!

Shirakawa shook his head repeatedly, tapping his head with the butt of his gun in an attempt to calm himself.

He wanted to live, to go back alive, to go home and see Aunt Meidu.

There's also Maki, Sakura, and Nikaido, the eldest sister.

It's not worth dying here.

Click!

Perhaps Lady Luck smiled upon him, or perhaps Heaven heard his prayers.

The metal magazine rotated once.

And they were safe and sound again.

Shirakawa tossed the gun to the blond-haired senior, his gaze lingering on Matsushima's beautiful legs.

There was no sense of relief, only overwhelming lust.

The blond-haired senior standing nearby was furious.

Every time I fired, I was almost certain to die, while my opponent was still staring at her beautiful legs and feet, drooling.

No, I have to win.

I want to see his head smashed to pieces with my own eyes!

The blond-haired senior was panting heavily as he pressed the muzzle of the gun to his forehead.

Jealousy and anger overwhelmed all the fear in his heart; he wanted to live, but he also wanted this man dead.

I must win!

Click.

Pulling the trigger again, nothing happened again.

"Hahahahahahaha." The blond-haired senior laughed loudly, "There are still three more shots."

For the next three shots, Shirakawa would have to fire twice, while he would only need to fire once.

Given the circumstances, statistically speaking, there's a one-in-three chance I'll get shot in the head.