[Rena Henmi Arc 3] Let’s go, Miss Henmi

—A few days after the clam DNA analysis.

“So, this friend of yours who got hit—what happened exactly?”

At a coffee vending machine just off the lobby of Shinjuku Police Station’s annex, Hayata spoke to Kaname.

“Yesterday. He was drinking at a club, then suddenly felt dizzy and passed out… When he woke up, his wallet was gone. He’s seriously bummed about it.”

“There’s been a string of these lately. Just yesterday, we logged three similar cases.”

“But they catch those guys pretty quick, right? I mean, the victims see them, don’t they?”

“It’s a textbook knockout robbery, sure. But this time, the targets are already drunk when they’re hit. Most victims don’t remember the suspect’s face.

And thanks to those cheap-ass club owners installing garbage-quality surveillance cameras, there’s barely anything usable in those dark venues.”

“What the hell… Can’t detectives just test the drinks or something?”

“Likely a drug was used—but the victims say there was no taste or smell.”

“Tasteless and odorless… No way anyone could notice that.”

Hayata clutched his head in frustration.

“Well, yeah.”

Kaname shrugged, then gave a faint grin.

“—But someone who might be able to notice is about to show up.”

“Huh?”

As Hayata blinked in confusion—

“That guy should apologize to every palate on the planet! You call this ‘Roman-style’?! You don’t use heavy cream in that!”

A furious voice echoed through the lobby, and a woman, flanked by uniformed officers, strode in.

“Ah…!”

Hayata instinctively straightened up.

“That’s her…! The clam woman…!”

Wearing a white blouse and a pencil skirt, heels clicking against the floor—

there was no mistaking it.

It was the same woman who’d caused a scene at the Chinese restaurant.

She gave Hayata a quick glance, scoffed, and walked past.

(Still terrifying.)

“Oi, raising hell again, huh? Rena Henmi, was it?”

Kaname approached her with a lazy smile.

“How do you know my name—?”

“Hard not to. You stir up enough drama at enough restaurants, you get remembered.”

Kaname casually flashed a bundle of reports with her name, “Rena Henmi,” printed on them.

(…They all just don’t get it.)

Rena glared at the reports and turned away.

(Like I’m the one at fault? Please. They’re the ones who couldn’t recognize quality.)

“By the way, those clams? Definitely from the southern mainland.

Legally still considered ‘domestic,’ though.”

“I know. They just leave them in Japanese waters for a few months after import, right? Ridiculous.”

She spat the words out.

“This one—she was involved in a case I handled before.

I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Kaname turned to the surrounding officers.

“Really!? That would help us so much—thank you!”

A young female officer bowed deeply, visibly relieved.

“Alright then, let’s go, Miss Henmi.”

As Kaname gestured for Rena to follow, he gave Hayata a small glance.

Watching their backs as they walked off, Hayata’s face clouded with a hint of unease.

(…She’s definitely not just some regular person.)

—To be continued.