[~2500 Words]
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"Shinichi, I'm already unimaginably wealthy. Do you really think I would risk everything I have in my life just to steal a few million dollars?"
Fujiwara Takuya's tone was sharp, his words filled with righteous anger as he lashed out at Shinichi.
Treacherous—that's what Shinichi was. Or perhaps worse—ungrateful.
Yes, Kudo Shinichi was ungrateful, and such a man deserved condemnation.
"That's right," Ran agreed quickly, nodding. "Officer Fujiwara is so rich. Why would he come all the way here just to rob a few million dollars?"
Kisaki Eri leaned forward, her voice sharp as a blade. "Yukiko, is this how you raised your son? He's so ungrateful, even to the very person who saved him."
Yukiko's face stiffened, shame and anger mixing in her expression. Her son was making her look like a failure in front of everyone.
What was Shinichi thinking? Fujiwara Takuya was no petty thief—he was a man of immense wealth and influence. And yet her son insisted on painting him as the villain.
"Shinichi!" Yukiko snapped. "Is this how you repay your savior? Apologize to him—immediately."
"I… I…" Shinichi faltered.
Deep down, he already knew he had misjudged Fujiwara. But swallowing his pride? Admitting defeat? That was something he couldn't do—not even when he was wrong.
"This… this doesn't add up," he protested stubbornly. "Why was he wearing a bulletproof vest in the first place? It was clearly prepared in advance."
His excuse rang hollow.
The disappointment in the room deepened—Ran's eyes clouded with doubt, Eri sighed heavily, and Yukiko's heart sank.
She could tell that Ran's opinion of Shinichi was beginning to sour.
The more he spoke, the more foolish he looked.
Fujiwara Takuya, calm and composed, stepped forward. "First of all, I had no prior knowledge of any robbery. The vest I'm wearing is standard-issue from the Metropolitan Police Department. I applied for it through proper channels." He tugged his jacket open, showing the insignia stitched onto the vest. "Second, this is America. A free country, yes—but one where shootings happen every single day. Isn't it perfectly reasonable for me to wear a bulletproof vest?"
The proof was right there. Shinichi's words died in his throat.
The vest was genuine—brought straight from Japan. There was no plot, no elaborate scheme. Everything was just coincidence. And besides, Inspector Fujiwara Takuya was far too wealthy to have any motive for simple robbery.
Ran and Eri glanced at one another, unsure of what to say. His explanation made sense—more sense than anything Shinichi had managed.
"A free America," Eri muttered to herself. "Gunshots every day… maybe it really is normal to wear something like that."
Her tone shifted, becoming serious. "Ran, when you travel abroad in the future, you must prepare for these dangers. Always carry a bulletproof vest. Safety first."
Ran nodded solemnly. "Yes, Mom. I'll remember."
Shinichi shrank into silence, ignored by the group. His accusations had already stirred enough resentment. If not for Yukiko's presence—and Ran's kindness—he might have been cast aside altogether.
But Eri was not about to forgive him just yet. She still carried a grudge—Shinichi had insulted her 'husband' in the past. That wound had not healed, and she would not let it go so easily.
Soon after, the police arrived to retrieve the surveillance footage. With the help of Yusaku contacting the FBI, Fujiwara was officially cleared of all suspicion that same day. The men who had been shot were confirmed to be nothing more than local gangsters.
The Parking Lot, Police Station…
Kudo Yukiko waited in her car, eyes fixed on the station doors. Shinichi, Eri, and the others had already gone back to prepare dinner, leaving her alone.
When Fujiwara stepped out after giving his statement, Yukiko persuaded him into the car. He didn't ask why the others had left. He already suspected she had her own reasons. And that suited him—because it gave him a rare chance to be alone with her.
After all, today he had played the hero. He had saved her life. Maybe—just maybe—her heart would be moved. Perhaps she would see him not just as a friend, but as a man worth desiring.
Fujiwara slid into the passenger seat, glanced around to make sure they were alone, and without hesitation, pulled Yukiko into his arms, pressing his lips against hers.
To his surprise, Yukiko didn't resist. In fact, she responded—her arms wrapping around him, her lips parting willingly.
For a moment, the world around them disappeared. They forgot their families, their responsibilities, their morals. There was only this fleeting passion, only the magnetic pull of each other.
Especially Yukiko—her heart had been deeply moved when he threw himself in harm's way for her. Coupled with the memory of his godlike driving skills last time, her impression of him had already rooted itself deep in her heart. Today's rescue only sealed it.
The two of them sank into the moment, but soon Yukiko felt a chill creep into her awareness. Reality struck her like cold water.
This was the police station parking lot. People could walk by at any moment. If they were caught… it would be disastrous. Worse, what would Yusaku think if such whispers reached him?
Her heart raced, not just from passion but from fear. She couldn't allow herself to fall any further.
Quickly, Yukiko pushed Fujiwara away, her breath heavy, her cheeks flushed crimson.
Takuya studied her face—her labored breathing, her red cheeks—and smiled to himself. She had already fallen, even if she refused to admit it. If not for the setting, she might have gone further.
Yukiko straightened in the driver's seat, forcing herself to regain composure. She was grateful she had pulled back in time. Any longer and she might have lost herself completely.
Still… when she thought of Takuya throwing himself between her and danger, taking the gangster's bullet for her, her heart softened again.
Even if he had been wearing a vest, what if the bullet had struck his head instead? The risk he took for her was real.
Her chest tightened. A dangerous thought bloomed inside her—an urge to repay him. Even if it was just once, she wanted to give herself to Fujiwara Takuya, to thank him in the most intimate way.
If Yusaku knew what she was thinking, he would be speechless.
Repay a favor by giving herself away? He would rather suffer the danger himself than watch his wife sacrifice her dignity.
"Yukiko," Fujiwara whispered suddenly, his hand brushing her cheek. "I'm sorry… but it's your fault. You're too beautiful, too charming. You tempted me first."
Instead of anger, Yukiko's lips curved into a smile. His words—though shameless—were also praise. She lifted her chin proudly.
After all, she was beautiful. It was natural that he couldn't resist.
Takuya gazed at her, and for a fleeting moment, an old line of poetry came to mind: 'I climb to the peak, and all other mountains bow beneath me.'
Among the women he had known, Yukiko was not the most perfect, but she was at the verysummit—untouchable, radiant.
Embarrassed by his own lofty thought, Fujiwara nearly laughed at himself.
But Yukiko caught the look in his eyes. On impulse, she leaned into his chest, holding him tightly.
From the moment he had thrown himself in front of a bullet for her, her heart had begun to waver. And now, she was ready to give herself—just this once—to show her gratitude.
Fujiwara was startled. Just moments ago, he had taken the initiative. Now, Yukiko was the one crossing the line.
"...You little bastard," she murmured, half-flustered, half-breathless.
"Do you like me then, Yukiko? Do you like this little bastard?" he teased, his voice low.
Yukiko bit her lip. "No. I'm married. I have a husband and a son. It's impossible for us to truly be together. But… since you saved me today, I'll grant you one last request."
Her heart pounded with nervous energy. She couldn't bring herself to say the words directly, but she had already decided. Tonight—just tonight—she would make love with him.
Takuya's eyes lit up. "Then stay with me, Yukiko-san. We don't have to marry. You don't need to divorce. Let's simply be together in secret."
But Yukiko shook her head firmly. "No. At most—tonight. After tonight, we are nothing more than friends again. This is only to thank you for saving my life."
Her tone left no room for doubt. One night only.
Takuya considered her words, then smiled faintly. One night was enough—because one night was all he needed.
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Takuya leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Fine, I accept. But I also have one request… Get Kudo Yusaku drunk tonight. I envy him so much, Yukiko-san. I want to be with you while he is right there."
His words stunned her. Yukiko's eyes widened in disbelief, her heart skipping a beat.
What did he just say? That was his request?
She felt her cheeks burn with both shock and shame.
What a pervert! she thought, biting her lip. To take advantage of my husband's presence like that… I didn't think this little bastard would be so bold.
"No," Yukiko shook her head instantly. "That's too far. I've already betrayed Yusaku more than I ever should. I cannot humiliate him like that."
Her tone was firm, but inside her heart wavered.
The memory of Fujiwara's arms shielding her, his lips on hers in the car, the heat that lingered still—it gnawed at her.
"Yukiko-san…" Fujiwara's voice softened. He leaned against her shoulder like a spoiled child. "Please. It's our last night anyway. Just get him drunk. If you refuse me, I'll pester you every day from now on."
Every day. The words echoed inside her chest.
For a frightening second, Yukiko felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of being pursued like that. She quickly buried it. No… I can't let him pester me. Better to grant this once than let it drag on forever.
She exhaled, finally nodding. "Fine. Tonight—only tonight. I'll get him drunk. But after this, we are only ordinary friends."
Takuya's grin widened, satisfied. "Thank you, Yukiko-san. Then rest well until this evening. And don't overdo it like yesterday, when you fainted after exhausting yourself."
Her cheeks flushed at his teasing. "You only know how to mock me," she retorted, giving his chest a playful slap. Yet the warmth in her heart betrayed her words.
The memory of yesterday still lingered—his overwhelming presence, her body giving in, the shocking intensity. A tiny, shameful part of her wanted to experience that helplessness again.
She forced herself back to focus, starting the car. "Enough. Sit properly. I need to get home and buy wine to make my husband drunk tonight."
Takuya settled into his seat, an amused smile tugging at his lips. The thought of Yukiko herself planning to intoxicate her husband so she could secretly be with him—there was a strange thrill in it.
"Sister Yukiko," he chuckled softly, "don't we feel like some tragic pair of adulterers from an old story?"
"Shut up," Yukiko snapped, though her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. "If you don't want to come, then don't. No one is forcing you."
He raised his hands in surrender, grinning. "Alright, alright. I was only joking. The truth is—I really like you. And I want tonight to belong to us."
The Kudo Mansion…
By the time they returned, Shinichi had already arrived ahead of them, carrying ingredients for dinner.
Inside the living room, Kisaki Eri sat across from Yusaku, chatting easily. Old friends reunited, their conversation carried the warmth of more than a decade of acquaintance.
Years ago, when Kudo Yusaku and Yukiko had come to America, Eri had lost touch with him. Now, after so long, here they were again, exchanging words as if no time had passed.
Yusaku glanced toward the door, restless. "Why hasn't Yukiko returned yet? She only went to give her statement."
Eri followed his gaze. She too worried—though not for Yukiko alone. Her thoughts wandered briefly to Fujiwara, who had thrown himself into such danger.
In America, a country where gunfire could erupt on any street, who knew what could happen on the way back?
"Don't worry, Dad," Shinichi interjected calmly. "Mom will be fine."
But Yusaku's patience had already frayed. He had learned earlier that Shinichi had suspected Fujiwara—over something as trivial as a bulletproof vest.
Ridiculous! Takuya had saved Yukiko's life, and his foolish son dared to accuse him? Unfilial! Disrespectful! Yusaku's hands itched to discipline him then and there.
Noticing his father's glare, Shinichi quickly looked away, avoiding those piercing eyes. He knew Yusaku well enough—when his father was angry, his punishment was never light. Better to keep silent.
The door creaked open.
"I'm back," Yukiko announced, stepping inside with Fujiwara just behind her.
But before she could take another step, she felt a quick pinch on her butt. Startled, she turned sharply to glare at Takuya, who only smirked mischievously.
"Not here," she hissed under her breath. "Behave yourself. You'll have plenty of time later, once he's drunk."
Takuya's grin widened, but he let it go. Tonight was already secured. Tonight, he would have her.
"Mom, you're back!" Shinichi hurried to the entrance, relief written on his face.
Across the room, Eri's eyes immediately darted toward Fujiwara. The moment she confirmed he was safe, her shoulders relaxed. It seemed that, unconsciously, her concern had been for him as well.
Yusaku stood, his tone polite but sincere. "You must be Officer Fujiwara. I've already heard about what happened today. Thank you very much. My son has admitted his mistake—I apologize on his behalf."
Fujiwara smiled warmly. "No need. Yukiko has already apologized and thanked me herself."
Yukiko's eyes flickered sharply toward him. His words carried a hidden edge, hinting at their earlier closeness. She wanted to strike him for his teasing, but it was too late. She had already given her word. Tonight, she belonged to him.
[✨ End of Chapter]
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