Mio's pupils contracted sharply. Something seemed to register in her mind, though understanding remained elusive. But that no longer mattered.

What mattered was that when the entire world had abandoned her, one person stood firmly before her and said: I believe you.


She broke completely, seizing my hand like a drowning person grasping a lifeline, burying her face against my palm as deep, wrenching sobs tore from her throat.

I didn't hurry her, simply waited until her crying subsided to quiet, hiccupping breaths.

"Finished?" I asked.


She raised her swollen eyes and nodded resolutely.

"Good. Now, let's discuss revenge."


"Revenge..." she echoed, testing the word.

"Yes." I continued calmly. "You never said those things, did you?"

"Never!"

"Then the recording is fabricated—synthesized from samples of your voice using technology."

Understanding dawned in Mio's eyes.

"That man is an accomplice; Hana is the architect. They believe their plan is perfect, but every lie contains a flaw." I rose, looking down at her. "Our first task is to locate that flaw."

"What... should I do?" She gazed up at me, her eyes filled with absolute trust.

"We need evidence proving that man received payment from Hana. For transactions like this, she'd use cash to avoid leaving a trail. We need to catch them in the act."

"But... how will we know when they'll meet?"

"Hana is naturally suspicious—she won't pay everything upfront. She'll use installments to maintain control over him." I explained methodically. "From now on, continue playing the devastated victim, but secretly monitor Hana's movements, particularly when she goes out alone. Report anything unusual immediately."

"I understand, Sister."

I smiled with satisfaction.

The chess game of revenge was now in play.

Hana, this time I'm playing black—and making the first move.

One Saturday afternoon, I received a message from Mio.

Attached was a photo of Hana's white Porsche with its license plate clearly visible.

I donned a baseball cap and mask before starting my car.

Hana's car bypassed her usual haunts—luxury boutiques and exclusive clubs—heading instead to an abandoned industrial zone on the city's outskirts. I maintained a safe distance, watching at the final intersection as she turned into the lot of a derelict factory.

Hana emerged from her car, impatience and distaste evident in her expression.

"Where is it, Tanaka?" she demanded without preamble.

Tanaka chuckled, producing the voice recorder from his pocket: "Not so fast, Miss. The last payment didn't last long after my friends took their cut. You see..."

"Shut up." Hana cut him off with revulsion, extracting a thick envelope from her purse and tossing it to him. "This is your final payment. Take it and delete everything as agreed."

Tanaka accepted the envelope, testing its weight with obvious satisfaction. He produced his phone and, before her eyes, deleted several messages, then operated the voice recorder and erased its contents.

"All done, Miss. Everything's wiped clean. We're square now."

"It had better be." Hana fixed him with an icy stare. "Remember, keep your mouth shut. If I hear even a whisper..."

"No worries, no worries!" Tanaka thumped his chest reassuringly. "I don't know anything—I was just drunk that night."

Hana dismissed him with a glance, returned to her car, and sped away.

Watching Tanaka's avaricious, calculating face through my viewfinder, I slowly lowered my camera.

That night in my room, Mio watched the footage on my camera screen, trembling with excitement.

"This is perfect... Sister, with this evidence, we can..."

"No." I calmly interrupted, freezing the image at the moment Hana tossed the envelope.

"Why not?" Mio stared at me in confusion. "This proves Hana was lying!"

"Yes, it proves she lied and bribed Tanaka to frame you. But consider our parents' reaction." I met her gaze directly. "They'll conclude your earlier 'transgressions' forced Hana into desperate measures. They'll blame you, while Hana will be seen as a misguided child who made a regrettable error."

The color drained from Mio's face.

"Then... what can we do?" Her voice carried a note of desperation.

"Someone like Hana never fully trusts anyone—hence her insistence on deleting the evidence." I smiled thinly. "But a desperate man like Tanaka wouldn't be foolish enough to destroy his leverage. What he deleted was merely one copy."

"You mean..."

"He must have kept a backup."

I set the camera aside and moved to the window, gazing into the darkness.

"So our next target isn't Tanaka himself."

I turned to Mio, whose eyes now rekindled with hope, and methodically outlined my plan.

"Rather, his vulnerability. I've investigated—he has a sister he's devoted to. She's been hospitalized for years and requires expensive treatment."

"Kenji Tanaka, 28, no steady employment, multiple prior extortion attempts. His only family is a sister named Yukiko Tanaka."

In my room, I slid a printed dossier toward Mio. Attached was a photo of a young woman with delicate features, smiling serenely from a hospital bed.

"Yukiko Tanaka, 19, suffering from chronic kidney failure. She's receiving ongoing treatment at Metropolitan Hospital while awaiting a transplant. She's three months behind on payments—over two million yen in arrears. Without immediate funding, the hospital will discontinue her dialysis next week."

Mio studied the document, her expression conflicted: "Sister, are we..."

"Every criminal has something they can't abandon," I said evenly. "His sister is Tanaka's sole vulnerability—and our perfect leverage."

Mio immediately grasped my meaning, her face paling: "Are we... going to threaten him using his sister?"

"No." I shook my head. "Threats are crude tools. We'll offer him a 'favor' he cannot possibly decline."

I picked up my phone and dialed the director of our family's charitable foundation.