62: Chapter 62 Yusaku Kudo's High-IQ Crimes

In the Kudo Family study, the curtains were drawn tight, leaving only a sliver of light to penetrate the gloom and barely illuminate the dust motes dancing in the smoky air.

Kudo Yusaku sat at his desk. The cigarette between his fingertips burned down to the filter, scorching him and making him flinch violently; only then did he realize and stub the butt into an ashtray overflowing with cigarette ends.

He had sat in this chair for the entire night, with the file on Noguchi Shigehiko spread out before him, yet he couldn't take in a single word.

Gin's icy warning echoed repeatedly in his mind, while the image of Noguchi Shigehiko's greasy face constantly flashed before his eyes, along with a hallucination of himself raising the murder weapon—each time, it made his stomach churn violently.

He was a detective novelist who had described countless murder cases and designed numerous ingenious killing methods in his writing, but those were, in the end, fictional words.

When the words "commit murder" jumped off the page and became a task that had to be personally carried out, the heavy burden of guilt almost crushed him.

"Creak—"

The study door was pushed open gently. Yukiko walked in carrying a cup of coffee. Seeing the room filled with smoke and her husband's bloodshot eyes, she frowned with heartache.

"Yusaku..."

She stopped, wanting to say more. She knew Yusaku too well; this man, who seemed calm and composed, cherished life more than anyone else.

He didn't like smoking, even hated the smell of it, but the full ashtray before him silently told the story of his struggle throughout the night.

Kudo Yusaku looked up, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing together: "Did I wake you?"

"No, I haven't slept at all."

Yukiko placed the coffee by his hand and reached out to gently stroke his cheek, her fingertips touching the coldness of his stubble.

"Don't force yourself. If you don't want to..."

"I have to go."

Kudo Yusaku interrupted her, his eyes holding a determination that was almost desperate.

"We have no choice, Yukiko."

He stood up and walked to the window to pull back the curtains. The blinding sunlight flooded in, causing him to squint instinctively.

"You've also seen the file on Noguchi Shigehiko."

His voice was low, as if he were convincing himself.

"Embezzling billions, treating human lives like grass, willing to betray even his own allies for profit... This kind of scum is a scourge while alive. Even if I don't kill him, someone will settle the score with him sooner or later."

Yukiko looked at his tense profile, knowing he was making excuses for himself.

She sighed.

"I understand what you mean. But Yusaku, murder is murder. No matter who the other person is, once you cross that line, there is no turning back."

"I know."

Kudo Yusaku closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, the struggle in his eyes had been replaced by a calmness.

"But for Shinichi, to uncover the organization's secrets, I must cross it."

He turned, held Yukiko's hand, and said earnestly,

"Trust me, this is just a temporary measure. Once we find the organization's core secrets and Shinichi returns safely, I will make amends for all of this in my own way."

Yukiko looked at the determination in his eyes and knew it was useless to persuade him further. She nodded and squeezed his hand tightly: "I'll help you."

...

Two days later, outside a high-end venue in Tokyo, the crowd was bustling.

Today was the memorial service for the famous director Sake Maki, and many celebrities from the film and political circles had come. Reporters held their cameras, waiting at the entrance early to capture news material.

A black sedan slowly pulled up to the entrance of the venue. The door opened, and "Kudo Yusaku" stepped out.

He was wearing a well-tailored black suit, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, with a perfectly appropriate expression of mourning on his face. He nodded slightly towards the camera, his demeanor elegant and proper.

No one knew that beneath this face of "Kudo Yusaku" was Yukiko, who had used a disguise.

She was attending the memorial service in place of Yusaku according to the plan. On one hand, it was to create an alibi; on the other, it was to observe the movements of Noguchi Shigehiko—according to the information, Noguchi Shigehiko would also be attending the memorial service today.

Entering the venue, Yukiko scanned the room calmly and quickly found her target in the crowd.

Noguchi Shigehiko was holding a glass of champagne, chatting and laughing with a few politicians, wearing a hypocritical smile on his face, with no sign of mourning at all.

He was followed by two burly bodyguards, their eyes scanning the surroundings vigilantly, guarding him very tightly.

Yukiko withdrew her gaze, picked up a glass of fruit juice, found a seat in a corner, and tapped lightly on the micro-communicator in her pocket:

"Target has appeared, accompanied by two bodyguards, in a relaxed state."

...

Meanwhile, in a secluded alley near the Mihua Grand Hotel.

A heavy truck was parked quietly in the shadows. The body of the truck was covered in mud, looking as if it had just driven back from a construction site.

In the driver's cab, Kudo Yusaku was smoking one cigarette after another. The windows were tightly closed, and the smell of smoke permeated the cramped space, making him cough a few times.

His fingers trembled slightly, the knuckles holding the cigarette turning white from the force.

Outside the window was the back door of the banquet hall of the Mihua Grand Hotel. According to the plan, after Noguchi Shigehiko finished attending the memorial service, he would transfer here to attend a corporate banquet, and this alley was the only route for his motorcade.

His plan was simple—when Noguchi Shigehiko's car passed by, he would drive this modified heavy truck out and ram into it with the fastest speed and greatest force.

No complex methods, no unnecessary traces, just like an accidental traffic accident.

As a detective novelist, he knew better than anyone that the simpler the case, the harder it was to solve.

The police would check for brake marks, check the driver's background, and even check the vehicle maintenance records, but they would never imagine that behind this "accident" was a carefully planned murder.

Yet even so, his heart was still gripped by an invisible hand, and every beat brought a heavy, dull pain.

"Just an accident..."

He whispered, as if hypnotizing himself,

"Yes, just an accident..."

He looked down at the time on the dashboard. There were ten minutes left until Noguchi Shigehiko's expected arrival.

These ten minutes felt as long as a century.

He thought of Shinichi, his son who was always bursting with a sense of justice.

If Shinichi knew that he had to kill someone with his own hands to investigate the case, what would he think?

He thought of Yukiko and her worried eyes from last night. He had promised her he would return safely and find the truth.

He also thought of the victims in Noguchi Shigehiko's file—the entrepreneurs he forced to their deaths, the disaster victims who starved because he embezzled their funds, the witnesses he silenced...

"He cannot be allowed to harm anyone else."

Kudo Yusaku crushed the cigarette butt fiercely, the hesitation in his eyes replaced by a cold determination.

He placed his hands on the steering wheel, rubbing his fingertips against the cold leather, feeling the cold sweat seeping from his palms.

The sound of car engines came from the mouth of the alley, approaching from far to near.

Kudo Yusaku's body tensed instantly, like a cheetah ready to spring.

Through the rearview mirror, he saw a line of black sedans driving slowly. The one in the lead was Noguchi Shigehiko's vehicle—a black Mercedes, with a license plate matching the file exactly.

The motorcade was moving very slowly, clearly observing the surrounding environment.

Two bodyguards were in the lead car, vigilantly scanning the alleys on both sides.

Now!

Kudo Yusaku took a deep breath and slammed the truck into gear!

The engine let out a roar, and the heavy truck, like an out-of-control beast, broke through the shadows of the alley and lunged towards the Mercedes!

"Bang—!!!"

A deafening crash!

The front of the heavy truck smashed fiercely into the side of the Mercedes. The immense impact sent the Mercedes flipping over like a toy, the car body severely deformed, and debris flying everywhere!

The bodyguards in the lead car reacted, pulling out their guns and firing. The bullets hit the steel plate of the truck, making a "ding-ding-dang-dang" sound, but they couldn't stop the truck's momentum.

Kudo Yusaku pressed the accelerator hard, and only when the truck pushed the Mercedes into the wall, unable to move anymore, did he slam on the brakes!

A piercing screech of brakes sounded, and the tires rubbed against the ground, leaving two black marks.

He sat in the cab, his whole body trembling.

The sensation of the impact from just a moment ago seemed to still linger in his body, shaking him so much that his internal organs ached.

He didn't dare look at the deformed Mercedes; he didn't dare think about whether the person inside was already dead.

He just mechanically shifted gears, reversed, then jerked the steering wheel, and drove the truck into another alley, accelerating to flee the scene.

In the rearview mirror, the overturned Mercedes grew smaller and smaller, and screams and sirens could already be heard in the surroundings.

Kudo Yusaku slammed on the accelerator, driving the truck even faster. His mind was blank, with only one thought—escape, escape quickly.

Not until the truck drove out of the city and arrived at a quiet seaside did he slowly stop.

Pushing open the door, the cold sea breeze poured into the cab, carrying a salty, fishy scent, which made him a little more sober. He leaned against the door, bent down, and began to vomit violently, as if he wanted to vomit out his very insides.

"Ugh..."

His stomach was empty, and he could only vomit up acid.

He looked up at the pitch-black sea, where the waves slapped against the reefs, making a dull sound.

He had killed someone.

Personally killed a person.

This realization was like a knife, stabbing fiercely into his heart, making him hurt so much he could barely breathe.

"Scum... ridding the people of a scourge..."

He repeated these words, trying to alleviate the guilt in his heart, but every time he said them, he felt his soul becoming filthier.

Just then, the communicator in his pocket rang. It was Yukiko's voice, carrying a hint of anxiety:

"Yusaku? How is it on your end? Did you succeed? Are you okay?"

Kudo Yusaku took a deep breath, using all his strength to suppress the tremor in his voice:

"...It was a success. I'm fine, I'm on my way back."

"Thank goodness..."

Yukiko's voice was clearly relieved. "Be careful, I'll be waiting for you at home."

"Yeah."

Hanging up the communicator, Kudo Yusaku sat back in the driver's seat and started the car.

The headlights cut through the darkness, driving towards the direction of home.

Kudo Yusaku knew that from today on, the trajectory of his life had changed completely.

He was no longer the writer who only described crime in novels, but someone who had personally created a crime.

He had already taken the first step on this dark road.

And what he didn't know was that at the moment he crashed into the Mercedes, a black Chevrolet was parked at a nearby street corner. Vermouth sat in the driver's seat, her eyes watching all of this coldly, the cigarette between her fingertips burned to the end.

"Kudo Yusaku, Yukiko..."

Vermouth whispered to herself,

"It seems you have still fallen into hell..."

She started the car, not chasing the truck, but driving in the opposite direction.

That's right, Vermouth was the supervisor of Kudo Yusaku's assessment task.

A seemingly accidental car accident had not caused a ripple in the dark night of Tokyo.

And Gin and Vodka were currently sitting in the surveillance room, watching the scene footage sent by their subordinates.

"It seems this novelist is more decisive than we imagined."

Gin looked at the overturned Mercedes on the screen, a cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Big Brother, can he join the organization now?" Vodka asked.

"No rush."

Gin shook his head.

"Let him join as an outer member first."

"As for whether or not to let him become a codenamed member, we will observe for a while longer. A novelist who never killed anyone, suddenly becoming so ruthless... In this, perhaps there is a story we don't know."

The light of the surveillance screen reflected in Gin's cold eyes, flashing with calculating light.

Kudo Yusaku's assessment was far from over. And the seeds he planted with his own hands would eventually bear unexpected fruit in the future.

Tokyo's night remained deep, as if it wanted to swallow all the sins into the darkness.