Chapter 153
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 153
Chapter Title: Released from Detention on Bail
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The day before I was released on bail, a scruffy-looking guard who seemed a bit older came to see me and told me I'd be getting out tomorrow.
Most of the public servants at Japanese detention centers just gave off that typical correctional officer vibe—strictly by-the-book types who followed procedures to a T.
But every now and then, you'd get someone like that guy: either overly casual or the opposite, all soft and gentle.
I wasn't a fan of that style. Those cocky public servant types usually crossed the line, acting way above their station.
"...Hyung, big bro. You getting out tomorrow?"
"Yeah, that's right. I'm outta here. Take care. I'll deal with the trial separately, but busting out of this place is a huge win already. See ya~!"
I hadn't expected to get out on the third day, but hearing I'd be released on bail tomorrow put me in a great mood anyway.
I handed off all the stuff I'd bought just in case inside the detention center to my cellmate, Fukuda Ren—a host club alum who'd introduced himself.
Prison was ruled by capitalism, just like the outside world. The guy with the most money was king.
Even better if he had money and strength.
That's why the tough guys strutted around with their shoulders squared.
Everything beyond the bare basics had to be bought with cash.
Take blankets, for example.
They gave you one super-thin one as standard issue. Sleeping with just that would give you a cold or worse—you'd freeze your ass off.
So you shelled out for extras.
But even those came in tiers: standard, premium, luxury, and ultra-luxury.
Not exactly ranked like that, but the prices varied.
Standard ran 5,000 yen, premium 15,000, ultra-luxury 50,000.
Word was, the ultra-luxury ones were plush, thick with down filling, cashmere-silk blend, and hand-stitched with hippo patterns.
(Apparently made by inmates in workshops for social rehabilitation and moral education.)
I bought two ultra-luxury ones. You couldn't take them when you left, but I had cash to burn, so why not go top-shelf?
Legally, it was "rental," not purchase, so you had to return everything on release.
But it was a "permanent loan" until then, so for long sentences, they might as well be yours. That's what Fukuda Ren told me.
"You little shit, how do you know all this? You ain't no first-timer, are ya?"
"No, no way, big bro. I heard it all from my buddies. First time for me in a place like this."
I'd wanted five blankets to sleep plush—three thick on the floor, two on top—but rules limited you to two per person.
So my plan flopped.
Even blankets had tiers: basic, standard, premium, ultra-luxury.
Average inmates usually bought one standard extra and slept with that plus the basic-issue one.
I ditched the basic and went ultra-luxury double.
Everything was under capitalism's thumb—toothpaste, toothbrushes, soap, body wash, detergent, clothes, food... Sometimes even basics weren't provided.
Toothpaste, soap, detergent were prime examples.
No cash? No brushing your teeth, washing with just water, laundry by hand in water alone.
Or you'd have to suck up to some rich guy.
That's why money and muscle made you top dog in detention too.
I had plenty of cash, so I bought only the best of what they sold.
No bland bean slop for me—I ate the good store-bought stuff.
Once I started flashing cash, Fukuda Ren next to me treated me like a sugar daddy, all respectful.
"Hey, Fukuda Ren. You took good care of me these three days, so I'm giving you all my stuff. Use it well."
"...A-Aniki... no, Oyabun..."
'What the hell? Why oyabun all of a sudden?'
Funny thing: you couldn't take bought goods home, but passing them to another inmate was fine by custom.
So instead of donating my top-shelf buys back to the Japanese prison system, I gave it all to my cellmate Fukuda Ren.
I'd stocked up on ultra-luxury items not knowing when I'd get out, and handing them over made him start calling me oyabun.
Turns out the guy had a sneaky admiration for samurai and yakuza vibes... wanted to serve me as oyabun or whatever.
"...Oyabun, Aniki, please save me. Can't you hire me a lawyer? The public defender won't listen... just says take the plea and beg for leniency... Sob sob..."
I'm a sucker for pretty girls' tears, but stone-cold to guys or ugly chicks.
Nah, I straight-up hated it.
I despise whiners on principle.
Maybe I'd tolerate a cute girl... but dudes or uggos? Straight irritation.
Pity for men or ugly bitches? Not in my DNA.
Obviously, I blew off Fukuda Ren's begging.
Pretended not to hear.
He kept spilling sob stories and social rants, but I zoned out, thinking only about leaving tomorrow.
With me gone tomorrow, I guess I was his last hope—he wouldn't shut up.
"People are hilarious. They say lock up sex offenders and throw away the key, no mercy. But they know there are innocent folks framed by gold-digging bitches too. Check YouTube comments or Yahoo Japan—'starve all criminals,' 'kill 'em all,' shit like that everywhere."
"Hm. Yeah?"
"Every time I see it, I think Japanese people are so dumb. Stupid Japanese monkeys. So many wrongful convictions, you idiot fucks. Why the hell scream for death penalty? Against abolishing it? Don't they know about false accusations? Kill 'em then say sorry? Why are Japanese so stupid, Oyabun?"
'Korea's the same. Probably the whole world.'
"I think the cops framed me for quotas."
"Yeah, that's rough."
Not rough at all. Just in a good mood about leaving tomorrow.
No reaction from me, so Fukuda Ren started analyzing me from every angle.
He'd started with the wronged victim plea—now ditched that for new tactics.
I gave zero fucks, so he switched approaches.
He tossed out various baits, and one hooked a response.
"Big bro, come to Shinjuku where I work, and I'll show you the full Shinjuku course. Pretty girls on both sides, lined up... "
"...Yeah?"
"Yeah, I know tons of real beauties."
"Hmmm..."
My attitude shifted, different reaction—must've noticed.
He swore if I bought him a private lawyer to escape this mess, he'd offer pretty girls daily or hook me up.
"I'll serve Oyabun like blood kin forever, be your concubine broker. Take me under your wing. I can do it—I swear I'm innocent. Help clear my name, and I'll serve loyally for life."
I was tempted, honestly.
Told him I'd look into it after getting out.
"Thank you! Thank you! Truly, thank you, big bro!"
I got out on bail.
Trial's separate, they said.
Hikari, Kyoka, Kaoru, Rino, and Miho welcomed me back from detention... while glaring like I was some loser.
Couldn't stand my pussy slaves eyeing me like that, so I reminded them who was boss—plowing each cunt in turn with my throbbing monster cock.
"You insolent bitches. Daring to look at me like that?"
"Haaang...♡ ...M-Master, forgive me...♡ Haaeut...!"
After schooling my five pussy slaves, I had them—well, precisely, the lawyer they hired—investigate Fukuda Ren's case.
The lawyer balked at first, saying his duty was done since I was out on bail, but I slipped him some cash from that rural store safe I'd cleaned out, and suddenly he was ready to lick my feet, digging up everything I wanted with gusto.
Even switched from calling me "Mr. Ota Jun" to "President Ota."
"President Ota, here's the info and photos on the woman who accused Fukuda Ren."
"What? Orcs exist in this world too?"
"...Pardon?"
"...Nah, nothing. Forget it..."
I looked over the documents and photos the lawyer handed me, purely impressed.
A straight-up ugly-ass orc bitch stared back from the pic.
'Fukuda Ren, you good guy... Just whining about injustice. If it were me, I'd have beaten the cops and prosecutors bloody. "Eyes fucked? They just for show?"...'