IGTL Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – If I Don’t Do It, Who Will!? Blowing the Whistle at the Police and the Labor Standards Office!

—9:00 a.m.

Wearing the tattered clothes that those high-schoolers had shredded with their relentless beating, I stepped into the police box*, feeling the officers’ curious stares prickle against my skin. (TN: A small neighborhood police substation in Japan, staffed by officers who handle patrols, directions/lost-and-found, minor incidents, and taking reports.)

Why had I come to a police box looking like this?

To mete out divine retribution to the high-schoolers who assaulted me and extorted my thirty-million-yen scratch ticket and wallet. I was definitely not picked up by the police as a suspicious person.

“Excuse me. I’d like to file a victim’s report.”

According to my prior online digging, you could submit a victim’s report either at the nearest police station (Criminal Division) or at a police box. The guides also said to bring ID (like a driver’s license), a personal seal, and any evidence proving the harm suffered.

At first I’d planned to go to a full police station, but braving a crowd in this getup would’ve been mentally brutal. While searching the web, I also learned that on March 25, Heisei 31, the Director of the Criminal Affairs Bureau at the National Police Agency had circulated a directive to all police stations and police boxes titled “On the Prompt and Certain Acceptance of Victim Reports.”

So, I figured the police box would be fine and came to submit one here.

“Understood. Please have a seat.”

I sat where I was told, and the officer spoke up.

“First, could you tell me what happened?”

“Yes. Please watch this video.”

I produced my smartphone and played the footage I’d uploaded yesterday. It was the same clip I’d shown the officers who had come to question me at home: five high-schoolers beating me and extorting my scratch ticket and wallet.

The officer grimaced and covered his eyes for a moment.

“So you’re the victim of that incident…”

“Huh? You’ve heard about it?”

“Yes, it’s been all over the news and social media…”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. The police station and police box are getting flooded with tips.”

I hadn’t known that.

But that made things easier.

“We’ll draft the report. Please provide your ID, along with the date and time of the incident, the place, and the property taken.”

“Got it. Then…”

I took my license from my backpack and handed it over. I kept the personal seal at hand.

“Yesterday evening, near the Aeon, five high-schoolers extorted my thirty-million-yen scratch ticket at the lottery kiosk, and then they took the thirty hundred-thousand yen I’d won at the pachinko hall Paradise, wallet and all. As for the scratch ticket, I showed it once to the clerk at the lottery kiosk, so she should be able to attest to it. The thirty hundred-thousand yen I cashed at Paradise likewise.”

If needed, I could submit more videos. They were going to pay for this. Just you wait, you little punks!

“Thank you. Please review the contents and, if everything’s correct, stamp here and here.”

After the interview, the officer who’d been typing in the back printed the report and asked me to confirm it.

I checked the content, pressed my seal, and received a “contact slip.” Apparently, I’d need it for inquiries later. I didn’t really grasp the details, but I took it anyway.

They did say that, regarding the thirty-million-yen scratch ticket, testimony alone might not be enough for it to count as stolen property. They understood I had video and wasn’t lying, but it sounded like that part would be tricky.

Honestly, I’d expected as much for the scratch ticket, same for the thirty hundred-thousand yen that had been in my wallet.

Still, I wasn’t about to blame the officer.

Because I had already recovered the thirty-million-yen scratch ticket.

As long as divine punishment fell on those brats, that was fine by me.

“Thank you for your help. Lastly, the offenders are minors, but I will not withdraw this report. Robbery resulting in bodily injury is a serious crime. I sincerely hope you’ll see those criminals sent to prison. I’ll cooperate in any way needed, so please contact me!”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for your cooperation.”

I felt like the officer recoiled a bit, but that was probably my imagination. I immediately posted across multiple social platforms that I had filed the victim’s report at the police box.

—Good. Done.

Just as the officer said, the incident sat at the top of online news, and the buzz was huge. Once I blasted out that I’d filed a report, there was no way the police would sit on their hands.

There were cops who dismissed these reports, victims’ cries from the heart, but I wanted to believe in their conscience.

“Alright, next: the Labor Standards Inspection Office…”

My enemies weren’t just those five high-schoolers.

There was also Ishida, Director of Administration Division at Amazing Corporation. He was my enemy too.

I left the police box and headed straight to the Labor Standards Inspection Office. The place looked every inch a government bureau.

From Item Storage, I took out five years’ worth of daily work reports; a USB containing email data; the work rules; the “Agreement on Overtime and Holiday Work” I’d downloaded before quitting; time cards showing the hours I’d actually worked; payslips proving my unpaid overtime; and a spreadsheet estimating the overtime due. Then I went to the General Labor Consultation Desk.

A specialist counselor saw me right away.

“Excuse me, I’d like to consult on a labor matter…”

“Certainly. We can speak in a private room if you prefer. Would you like that?”

Apparently, they could also handle this in private.

“No, I’m fine here.”

“Very well. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Yes. The truth is…”

I explained in detail just how black Amazing Corporation was: coerced overtime, their method of dismissal, denying severance because they labeled it a disciplinary firing, and of course the unpaid overtime.

“…That’s a terrible company.”

“It really is.”

“Given this much evidence and a clear chronology, there may be something we can do.”

I learned for the first time that while the office could issue guidance and recommendations for violations, and even refer cases for criminal prosecution, they didn’t have authority to resolve disputes over payment of overtime or severance. For example, if overtime had gone unpaid, they could recommend payment, but unlike a court, they couldn’t issue a binding order.

First I’d heard of it. So even if I turned to the Labor Standards Office, to guarantee collection of unpaid overtime from the company I’d have to hire a lawyer…

Well, I’d at least filed an internal whistleblower complaint with the office. As for the unpaid overtime and severance, I could consult a law firm separately. I had a mountain of evidence the Labor Standards Office would vouch for.

Just you wait, Director Ishida!

And you too, President Nishiki!

Dining out on meeting and entertainment expenses every single day, gorging yourselves! I’m— no, forget being jealous. You’re a listed company, aren’t you? A company belongs to its shareholders. It’s not your personal feeding trough!

The more I remembered, the more irritated I got. After seeing a lawyer, I’d also use the National Tax Agency’s online “Information on Unassessed/Uncollected Taxes” tip form to snitch that the president was using meeting/entertainment expenses for personal wining and dining.

Don’t underestimate an accounting staffer.

I know everything.

In the name of absolute justice, I’d report that too.

“…Thank you. I’ll leave it in your hands.”

With that, I left the Labor Standards Inspection Office.

It was now 11:00 a.m.

Still, I was too drained to head straight to a law firm. I’d push that to tomorrow or later.

“Alright, back to the net cafe… hm?”

As I stretched and turned, I spotted a Mizuho Bank branch ahead.

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

Sitting in Item Storage were scratch tickets worth 180 million yen. Might as well cash them in right away.

I passed through the automatic doors into Mizuho Bank, where a staffer stopped me.

“Sir, do you have a visit reservation?”

“Huh? Visit reservation?”

What was that supposed to mean?

While I was puzzling it out, the clerk explained:

“To avoid the Three Cs*, we currently require reservations for visits. We’re very sorry, but could you please make an appointment online before coming in?” (TN: Closed spaces, Crowded places, and Close-contact settings)

“Oh, really?”

So the effects of that infectious disease reached even here… Management had always handled the bank, so I hadn’t known. If that was the reason, then fine. I’d come back.

Crowding’s dangerous!

“Understood.”

I headed out. “Thank you. We look forward to your next visit,” the clerk said behind me.

Outside, I pulled out my phone and made the reservation. The earliest slot was a week out. That meant the 180 million yen would have to wait. Feeling a bit deflated, I started along the road back to the net cafe, when I saw five high-schoolers heading my way.

Those guys… the five brats who wrecked me!?

Fate had brought us together again!

I slipped behind a nearby utility pole.

This wasn’t running away. No, really. If I got serious, it’d be a one-punch KO. One punch. Lights out.

Jokes aside.

I had a real reason to hide. For some reason, only I could see them: Elementals. If those guys suddenly attacked again, I didn’t know how the Elementals would react.

And why, when I unequipped the Mob-Fenrir Series while returning to this side, were the Elementals still equipped!? Whatever, table that for now.

If they lunged at me and the Elementals torched their crotches, they’d probably die of shock. What’s funny in manga turns into a nightmare in reality.

Holding my breath and praying the Elementals wouldn’t misfire, I waited behind the pole for the five to pass, then headed straight to the net cafe.