Tokyo: Idol Girls have absolutely no bad intentions!

In the shadows of the street corner, the man in the suit and tie still stood silently.

Chapter 192 The Retro Inquiry Ritual

Under the dim streetlights, the two walked side by side on the asphalt road. Asada never dared to look ahead, her head lowered so low it was almost buried in her chest.

They walked past the middle-aged man in the suit, Ito's attention remaining fixed on him.

He clenched his right fist, ready to subdue the opponent at the first sign of a fight.

Although it was unclear what entanglement existed between this man and Asada, his act of "waiting for his prey" late at night, and his undisguised hostility towards him, were enough for Ito to categorize him as "not a good person."

But Ito couldn't make a move right now, nor could he question Asada, who was clearly still in a daze.

The two must know each other, perhaps even have a close relationship, so Ito suppressed his urge to take action; he couldn't act rashly.

Acting rashly without knowing the full story could not only lead to misjudgment, but could also push the already panicked Asada into an even more awkward or dangerous situation.

Protecting the safety of their idols is also one of the responsibilities of a manager.

One step, two steps...

They are about to disappear from the middle-aged man's sight.

Suddenly, a short, startled cry ripped through the silence.

Asada tripped over something and fell forward abruptly.

She was wearing a short skirt, and her knees slammed hard onto the rough asphalt without any cushioning.

"Asada!" Ito reacted quickly, immediately bending down to help.

Almost simultaneously, hurried footsteps and a louder, panicked shout came from behind: "Sakura!"

The man in the suit rushed over like an arrow released from a bow, moving so fast that he created a gust of wind. The indifference and hostility on his face were replaced by pure anxiety.

He rushed over and saw Asada wincing in pain. He wanted to reach out but seemed to hesitate for something, his movement freezing in mid-air.

Ito had already knelt down on one knee and was holding Asada's arm: "Don't move, let me see."

Asada gasped in pain, tears welling in her eyes.

My left knee was badly scraped, with blood seeping out and mixed with the dust on the road, making me look quite pathetic.

"Sakura, how are you? Does it hurt? Did you break any bones?" the man in the suit asked anxiously, his voice trembling with worry.

Ito ignored him and quickly pulled out a small packet of individually packaged disinfectant wipes from her handbag.

He tore open the packaging and quickly but carefully pressed it onto Asada's scraped knee.

"hiss--!"

The pain from the disinfectant irritating the wound made Asada gasp and instinctively shrink back.

"Bear with it for a moment. We must disinfect it, otherwise infection will be more troublesome." Ito's tone was calm, but she controlled the strength in her hand very well and did not loosen her grip because of her hesitation.

He carefully wiped away the dirt around the wound, pressing the blood droplets back under the skin, leaving a red, swollen, and broken skin.

The man in the suit watched with a furrowed brow, wanting several times to urge them on or to do it himself, but he held back.

He watched Ito treat the wound, his anxious eyes slowly turning into a scrutinizing gaze.

"Okay, that's enough for now." Ito tossed aside the used wet wipes and pulled a cartoon-patterned band-aid from his bag—obviously one Asada usually kept in there. "I'll clean it properly and apply the medicine when we get back. Can you stand up? Let's try."

Ever since the last anime convention, Asada has been stuffing some first-aid gadgets on him, but in the end, it's Asada herself who uses them first.

He helped Asada slowly stand up. Asada tried to move her legs, but the excruciating pain made her face contort in pain, though she managed to stand.

The man in the suit seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, but his gaze toward Ito remained complicated.

Ito caught the speed at which he had rushed over, the genuine worry in his voice when he called out "Sakura," and the undisguised concern he showed now.

This doesn't seem malicious. It's more like... some kind of awkward parent?

Ito stood up, placing himself half a step between Asada and the man, looking directly at him, and tentatively asked, "Sir... do you know Asada?"

“I…” The man in the suit began to speak.

"He's my uncle!" Asada almost screamed as she interrupted, her voice trembling with pain and tension.

She glanced at the man quickly, her eyes filled with warning and pleading. "Right, Uncle?"

The man in the suit was clearly taken aback for a moment.

He looked at Asada's eyes, which seemed to say, "Admit it already, stop talking nonsense," and then at Ito, who was standing in front of him with a probing look in his eyes. His lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

A few seconds of silence followed, as if the air had frozen.

Finally, as if swallowing a mouthful of bitter herbs, he managed a weak "hmm" through his nose, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

"Uncle?" Ito raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the two.

Asada's panic and the man's frustration were both too obvious.

This lie is so poorly crafted.

"Hmm." The man in the suit responded again, tacitly acknowledging this awkward identity.

He adjusted his expression, trying to project a semblance of elder authority, and extended his hand to Ito, his voice dry: "Hello, I'm...her uncle. And you are?"

“Ito, Asada’s manager.” Ito reached out and shook hands with him.

The man's hands were strong, calloused, and gripped tightly, as if he were weighing something.

"Agent?" The man frowned even more, his gaze sweeping over Ito from head to toe. "So late, and you two are alone together?"

"After work, I'll take her back to her place," Ito said succinctly, secretly finding it amusing.

The way this "uncle" questioned people was more like that of a biological father.

"Work? What kind of work requires you to stay up this late? Is it safe?" The man fired off a barrage of questions, his distrust and worry almost overflowing.

"Uncle!" Asada exclaimed anxiously, her voice rising, "Why are you asking so many questions? Ito... is very professional."

She secretly tugged at Ito's sleeve, signaling him to keep quiet.

"Professional?" The man scoffed, his gaze still fixed on Ito. "How old are you? Where do you live? What does your family do? Do you have a girlfriend?"

This barrage of questions, almost like an interrogation, completely baffled Ito. Asada's face flushed instantly, both embarrassed and angry.

"Uncle!!!" Asada practically shouted, successfully interrupting the man's questioning. She took a deep breath, trying to appear calm, but her voice still trembled slightly.

"It's getting late! I have training early tomorrow morning. Ito, let's go home quickly. Uncle, you should go home too!"

As she spoke, she endured the pain and forcefully pulled on Ito's arm, trying to move forward.

"Wait!" The man in the suit exclaimed urgently, stepping forward to stop them. "Sakura, your injury..."

"It's nothing. Just a scrape. Ito has taken care of it!" Asada didn't look back, dragging Ito away quickly, almost hopping along with her injured leg, wanting to escape this suffocating place as soon as possible.

"Where do you live? Give me your address. I'll be there tomorrow..." A man's voice followed behind.

"No need! I'm fine! Don't worry about me!" Asada's voice was tinged with resistance, and she quickened her pace.

Asada pulled him along, keeping pace with her steps, and he glanced back.

Under the dim streetlights, the man in the expensive suit was still standing there, his shadow stretched long, making him look somewhat lonely.

He watched Asada's retreating figure, which seemed to be fleeing in panic, his expression a mixture of worry, helplessness, and a deep sense of powerlessness.

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to shout something, but in the end he just dejectedly lowered his raised hand and watched the two figures quickly disappear around the corner of the street.

Only when the figure was completely out of sight did Asada's tense body suddenly relax, her steps faltering, and the pain in her knees made her hiss.

"Slow down." Ito steadied her, "The wound is protesting."

Asada lowered her head, silently leaning on his arm for support, and slowly walked forward. The panic and forced composure from before had faded, leaving only exhaustion and a burning pain in her knees.

“Your uncle,” Ito’s voice rang out on the quiet street, his tone devoid of emotion, “cares about you quite a bit.”

Asada stiffened and remained silent.

“It’s like checking household registration,” Ito paused, then added, “a bit…retro.”

Asada lowered his head even further and mumbled a reply: "...He's rather old-fashioned." His voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's hum.

"Hmm." Ito didn't ask any further questions.

Every family has its own problems, especially the family backgrounds of idols, which are often even more complicated.

Asada clearly didn't want to talk about it, and no matter how curious he was, he had to keep it to himself.

The first rule for agents: Don't ask what you shouldn't ask, and handle the troubles that need to be handled cleanly.

He glanced at Asada's pale profile and the pained frown on his brow.

"Can you still walk? Do you want me to carry you?"

Asada immediately shook his head, like a rattle-drum: "No, no need! I can walk!"

Let Ito carry her? Just imagining that scene made her feel the heat that had just subsided on her face rise again.

“Okay.” Ito didn’t press the issue. “Then walk slowly. When you get back, rinse the wound thoroughly with saline solution first, then apply iodine. Don’t get it wet.”

"Okay..." Asada replied softly. The pain prevented her from thinking about the embarrassing scene just now; she only hoped to get back to her apartment as soon as possible.

The two walked in silence for a while.

The streetlights stretched their shadows, making them appear longer and shorter. Asada stole a glance at Ito's profile, at his calm eyes.

He didn't seem to take his "uncle's" absurd questioning to heart, nor did he press her to ask why she was so flustered.

This gave her a slight sense of relief, but it was followed by a strange feeling of bitterness and grievance.

Why tonight of all times? Why did he have to see us?

That man... Asada shook her head violently, trying to shake that worried yet irritating face out of her mind.

"Hiss..." The movement was too big and aggravated the wound.

"Don't move around." Ito's voice carried a hint of helplessness. "If you don't want a scar, behave yourself."

"Oh..." Asada became honest.

They walked a little further, not far from the apartment. Asada finally couldn't hold back any longer, her voice low and tentative: "Ito...about what happened earlier..."

"Just now?" Ito asked casually. "Are you referring to your spectacular wrestling performance on flat ground, or your 'uncle's' endless questions?"