Kujo Mutsumi saw Fushimi Roku return, and guessed that Minamoto Tamako was not at the old residence. He volunteered, saying, "Perhaps she was delayed by something on the way. I can help you call the transportation bureau."

Fushimi Roku didn't respond. He thought for a moment, pushed open the gate of the small courtyard, and walked down the slope.

Kujo Mutsumi had no choice but to get out of the car, propping himself up with a cane to follow, asking Fushimi Roku where they were going as they walked. Unfortunately, Fushimi Roku ignored him, so he had to struggle to keep up with his seventy-year-old frail body.

Actually, Kujo Mutsumi somewhat suspected that Fushimi Roku was doing it on purpose, using this aimless wandering as a form of revenge.

Though he still had some spirit and usually exercised, so occasionally running was not an issue, the human body has its limits. Age is age, and his physical functions were far from what they used to be. He was already panting heavily after not walking very far.

Sigh, this is all for the Kujo Family. If he has to suffer, then so be it. He considered it as paying back for the enjoyment of youth.

Kujo Mutsumi comforted himself with a few words, following Fushimi Roku for four or five minutes, stopping at the entrance of an old house at the slope.

"Is Granny Hamada home?" Fushimi Roku shouted a couple of times.

No one responded, and the old house was empty.

Fushimi Roku had no choice but to move on, calling out to Granny Yamaguchi, the Yoshida couple, Mr. Sugiyama... only to find none of them were home, and there was no one left at their houses either.

It was evident that this place was heavily affected by population aging; the young people had already left, leaving behind some empty-nest elderly.

"Oh dear, they're all out, such a pity. Why not ask at the police station?" Kujo Mutsumi suggested, wanting to rest at the station.

Fushimi Roku ignored him and kept moving forward until he finally encountered someone at a fisherman's house.

The person was a single, middle-aged man who lived alone, spent years at sea fishing, and was familiar with the residents here. Fushimi Roku first asked if he had seen a girl on a motorcycle come by, but the fisherman shook his head and said he hadn't.

Fushimi Roku had no choice but to ask instead, "Then where did everyone else go? Why is nobody around today?"

"Today's the bonfire festival. There's a fireworks display at the commercial center, and everyone's gone to have fun," the fisherman smirked and said, "Tsk, they're such shallow people. As if watching fireworks could lead to a successful confession? It's impossible just thinking about it! Childish! Foolish!"

Both Fushimi Roku and Kujo Mutsumi could see why this man was single.

After bidding the fisherman farewell, Fushimi Roku called a car, planning to head to the bonfire festival venue to take a look.

Kujo Mutsumi was truly unable to walk any further, advising from the side, "The festival must have ended. By the time we arrive, everyone might have left already. How could Tamako still be there waiting for you? Let's go to the police station; if there's news about Tamako, they'll notify you right away."

Fushimi Roku stood by the roadside waiting for the car, not turning his head, and suddenly asked, "What does it feel like to bow down to others?"

Kujo Mutsumi was taken aback, remained silent for a moment, and continued observing Fushimi Roku. He showed a heavy, humiliated expression, carefully saying, "Of course it feels awful, very shameful, and even despairing. At that time, I seemed to hear the sound of my pride shattering..."

Fushimi Roku interrupted, "So it doesn't feel like much?"

Kujo Mutsumi knew he couldn't deceive him and had to honestly say, "Well... it's not that it doesn't feel like anything at all."

Fushimi Roku asked, "How so?"

Kujo Mutsumi patted his knee, saying, "I have a bit of rheumatism, so when I kneel, my knees aren't very comfortable. You know, with age, it's unavoidable."

Fushimi Roku felt like he was punching cotton, unable to vent his inner annoyance and anger: "Is that all?"

Kujo Mutsumi saw his inner thoughts, lowered his head, and said, "That's right, when young I was reckless, often bowing down and kneeling, doing it so much that I became numb... I'm truly sorry for not fulfilling Fushimi's expectations. How about you punch me twice as compensation!"

With that, he released his cane, his body trembling like a frail old man, opening his arms and loudly saying, "Come on! Don't hold back just because I'm old! Use all your strength and feel the sincerity of the Kujo Family!"

Fushimi Roku couldn't really hit him, after all, Kujo Mutsumi was a seventy-something-year-old man, and one punch might indeed be fatal.

He realized that Kujo Mutsumi was playing the old card, and upon reconsideration, he felt he was being too serious.

... Still, as the saying goes, after all, he was a seventy-something-year-old man, living year by year, perhaps next year he would have to attend Kujo Mutsumi's funeral.

What's the sense in getting worked up with someone already half-buried in the ground?

The logic made sense, but Fushimi Roku still raised his hand, patted Kujo Mutsumi's old face with slight force but with great insult: "How could someone like you have a granddaughter like Tamako?"

Regardless of what he thought, Kujo Mutsumi maintained an indifferent smile on his face and followed Fushimi Roku's words, "Probably because her other family's genes are good."

As they were chatting, a taxi arrived, the very one that had brought them there. The driver turned around and, seeing Fushimi Roku waving, naturally picked them up for another fare.

Fushimi Roku took the taxi to the beach, and, just as Kujo Mutsumi said, the festival had already ended.

The beach was littered with trash, and scattered with uncollected sunshades and towels. Volunteers wielding garbage bags and tongs were cleaning up, with a lamp standing in the center, resembling construction work at night.

Fushimi Roku got out of the car, looked around in the sea breeze, only seeing the heap of ashes from the bonfire.

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