Ichijō Mirai was in the café.
The glass of the café was transparent, and sitting by the window, he could see the main entrance of the restaurant and the flow of people just by glancing at it, and naturally, he witnessed the arrival and return of Mr. FBI investigator.
And Akai Shūichi, who was acting alone.
Losing his smile, he picked up the steaming coffee, took a sip regretfully, and commented, "Second time we met, sure is a capable guy to get rid of a liability, pity,"
Unfortunately, the FBI aura on his body was so strong that even if he hadn't met Akai Shūichi before, Ichijō Mirai would have reacted the moment he saw him.
Sitting on the other side of the seat, a gaunt lady of about twenty-six or twenty-seven with darker blonde wavy hair, she hung her head and sipped her coffee quietly until the silence spread to the point where the coffee was about to reach the bottom, then she whispered in a somewhat rushed voice, "Do you, do you mean to say that my husband is a murderer?"
She finished her coffee in one gulp, "That's impossible, I'm sorry, I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense, sir."
With that, she stood up and left.
Ichijō Mirai wiggled his eyebrows and swallowed the steaming mouthful of acidic, brine-flavored coffee, happily letting go of the coffee and relaxing his body as he leaned back against the couch.
He smiled and nodded, signaling: go ahead.
The blonde lady didn't move, she stood stiffly, a huge blue information flow crisscrossed around her body, like a huge open spider's web, every joint of her body was entangled with a few blue spider's threads, like a manipulated mannequin on a stage.
Some of the 'threads' are concerns that end in leaving.
The other part of the 'silk' is still full of concerns, but ends with: stay.
The two slender threads of blue prompts swirled and tangled together, and under Ichijō Mirai's smiling gaze, the result emerged: the blonde woman sat down.
She sat stiffly for a moment before whispering, "He's an FBI agent."
"Often," Ichijō Mirai was still smiling, like a psychiatrist talking to a patient, like Ms. Blonde hadn't struggled to leave and decided to stay for a moment, "the degradation of law enforcement is often more deeply regrettable, isn't it?"
He picked up the coffee, sniffed it through his nose a few times, didn't drink it, and put it back, "Not to mention the fact that it was all foretold, and the father has always been a shining example of a man respected by his children."
The blonde lady was silent again, and after a moment said: "You know a lot."
"I know a helpful friend," Ichijō Mirai admitted with a nod, "and just as soon as he became a friend, he enthusiastically told me everything I needed to know, and knowing that I was depressed about something, he made a decisive move and spent just one afternoon gathering a list of people who had left the FBI in recent years."
Simple translation: Ichijō Mirai saw the FBI investigator, Ichijō Mirai bravely ran straight up, Ichijō Mirai gained a cute Inuo friend who could see the internal intelligence of the FBI, Ichijō Mirai was a great success!
Hard work always pays off, and hard working Ichijō Mirai always succeeds.
He said, "I am saddened to realize your unfortunate situation."
"How did the once valiant Ms. Barrister end up in such a difficult situation? To think that the husband of an elite FBI agent is a criminal and you have no proof,"
"It's heartbreaking."
Ms. Blonde: "..."
Outside the window, not far from the street, Akai Shūichi puts down his cell phone and gazes up, "..."
Ichijō Mirai smiled at the blonde lady, then at Akai Shūichi, and slowly surmised, "I guess you're aware of the disgusting side of your husband's honorable skin, yes."
The flow of information on Ms. Blonde's body was like a snake that had been startled, flowing rapidly, with a variety of words passing through each other, some of which were analyzed and inferred from Ms. Blonde's body language, some of which were important sentences taken from the FBI files and recent newspapers.
"An ordinary day, an ordinary interaction that leaves you smelling the strange and warlike odor of blood."
"On your vacation this September, I presume?"
The blonde lady was silent for a few seconds and nodded, "He went out to do some shopping and came back a long time later, said the car broke down in the middle of the day and the repairs took a long time and showed me his gasoline stained hands,"
"But when I embraced him, I smelled blood and saw wiping blood behind his ear."
"...And on returning from vacation, saw the news of the murder."
"But you found no evidence," Ichijō Mirai said, sitting up straight and resting his elbows on the tabletop, "and after that, smelled blood repeatedly."
"I'm guessing the most recent was fifteen days ago."
"Yes," the blonde lady looked up, paused, and instead of asking how Ichijō Mirai knew, simply asked, "What are you, CIA? FSB? MI6?"
"What international case is he involved in?"
Withdrawn again. "Forget it. You don't have to tell me."
"I'll work with you. Are you going to help me find evidence, or do you want me to help you steal? If it's the latter, I need you to do the former."
To be able to know so much, to know the blonde lady and her husband as if they were there, was no ordinary person, there must be a huge intelligence system behind them, most likely a spy on a mission.
That's what Ms. Blonde thought.
The spy could be targeting her husband because of his FBI career, or because he was accidentally involved in something secret while he was out on a job.
Most likely military secrets.
Ichijō Mirai smiled, neither approving nor denying, and said, "In another thirty years, if you're a bit more ruthless, you can easily find out the secrets of every passerby."
This is the lovely thing about the information age.
He blandly explained his reason for telling the exact time: "There was a case of a missing red-haired woman in the newspaper."
"A serial disappearance of redheaded women that has been going on for several years, with bodies appearing from time to time, but most of the disappeared are never heard from again once they've gone missing."
The blonde lady's breathing stopped for a few moments and she frowned hard.
"Don't turn your head, stare at me," Ichijō Mirai blinked one eye, a little intriguingly, "the FBI man who spotted me, and spotted me spotting him spotting me, and stared right back at me, seems to think I'm coercing you, and has been glaring at me coldly,"
"Oops, the anger level is almost 100."
It's time to retreat.
"By the way, you don't think there's a basement in your house, do you? Actually, there is. Knock on the floor, you might find some amazing evidence." He stood up. "Remember to get back to work after you've solved the case, barrister. We need you in this business."
"Bye-bye."
Ichijō Mirai and Akai Shūichi moved at the same time.