"Based on preliminary medical diagnosis, the patient exhibits symptoms of [Alcohol Dependence], [Alcohol Use Disorder], [Persecutory Delusional Disorder], and [Intermittent Explosive Disorder]. To facilitate her recovery and minimize societal risks, we strongly recommend immediate hospitalization."
The middle-aged psychiatrist from Tokyo Medical University delivered his verdict crisply to the mother and daughter before him.
Still groggy from excessive drinking, her nerves throbbing with each heartbeat, Hoshino Ayumi initially thought Ai had brought her to a hospital—what with all the white-coated doctors and nurses, the sterile white walls and ceiling.
But when the office door swung open and several burly male orderlies moved to restrain her, Ayumi finally understood. She hurled curses at Ai:
"You bitch! You're all in on this—this is a setup—!"
"A classic manifestation of persecutory delusions," the doctor noted, folding his arms.
"Who is the patient's immediate family member?"
Unfazed, the head orderly produced a document.
"I'm her daughter."
Ai rose, meeting her mother's venomous glare as she took the paperwork and signed.
Then she turned to Ayumi.
The orderlies had already strapped her down to quell her violent thrashing.
Only then did Ai realize—she was taller now than this woman.
"I'd like a word with my mother."
Like a dutiful daughter, she bent to whisper in Ayumi's ear:
"Thank you, Mom."
"Thank you for never changing."
"If you'd become a better person, what would I have done? You'd have haunted my nightmares forever."
"Blood ties aren't so easily severed."
"That's why only I could send you here."
Those years with Ayumi had been like shards of glass in rice—impossible to digest, carving her insides bit by bit every day.
She'd bitten through her tongue to stay silent.
But now, she could finally spit them back in Ayumi's face.
Ai's lips curved up even as her voice trembled:
"Because—I'm your only immediate family."
"At approximately 1 PM yesterday, a residential fire broke out in Meguro Ward. Fortunately, the homeowner detected it early, alerted authorities, and initiated containment measures. Firefighters promptly extinguished the blaze using high-pressure hoses and fire suppressants. According to the homeowner, the cause was an accident triggered by an elderly family member's mental health episode. No casualties were reported, and the individual involved has been transferred to a specialized medical facility."
Reporter Tanaka clicked off the TV. He'd sat motionless on his sofa for nearly thirty minutes—had he not moved, one might've mistaken him for a stone statue in a temple.
He clicked his tongue. He never expected Hoshino Ai to have Ayumi institutionalized within two days.
Now, all his exclusive interviews and drafts with Ayumi were practically worthless.
Who would believe a mental patient's claims?
Worse, on the same day this news broke, other reporters "coincidentally" revealed the homeowner was idol Hoshino Ai—while an "anonymous" netizen leaked surveillance footage.
The grainy video showed Ayumi berating her daughter, even declaring "idols are just whores." The backlash was instant.
This left Tanaka—and his tabloid Weekly Entertainment—unable to counter the narrative. Public opinion had already branded Ayumi a "deranged gold-digger."
As a veteran reporter, Tanaka knew: once a narrative solidifies, reversing it is near-impossible. Even if truth surfaces later, the crowd has already moved on to the next scandal.
Sighing, he chuckled wryly and spun his pen, hunting for fresh material.
The initial frustration was for a missed scoop. The latter smirk? Pure personal spite after the dust settled.
But he was still a tabloid hound, feeding on clicks.
After a brief emotional interlude, Tanaka resumed agonizing over his next piece.
Then—a flash of inspiration.
Years ago, his editor had joked:
"No one suspects eight-year-olds of dating."
Back then, the entire newsroom had roared with laughter.
But now? Kitagawa Ryo was about to turn sixteen.
Tanaka's fingers flew across the keyboard. Search results revealed subtle shifts:
"Pounds, dollars, francs—guard Ryo's rise to royalty! Kitagawa Ryo's Tokyo fanclub purchases naming rights for 16 asteroids, arranging them into the letter 'K' (his Romanized initial).""Kanagawa fanclub sponsors 16 endangered marine species in Ryo's name—great white sharks, sea otters, whale sharks, orcas—declaring: To your 16th birthday, 16 ocean spirits. May our love traverse all seas—deep and boundless as the ocean itself, unwavering and eternal.""Not to be outdone! Miyazaki fanclub announces..."
Unnoticed, Ryo's fandom had evolved over seven years.
The monitor's glow reflected off Tanaka's glasses.
If he could uncover even a hint of Ryo's romantic life now—
That would be explosive.