36-year-old Mizuhara. She serves as managing director at a small construction company inherited from her father. The company is a tiny shop tucked away in a corner of town, seemingly fragile enough to blow away in the wind. Then one day, in early September, she received a personal invitation from Mr. Yokoyama, president of Yokoyama Construction—one of her company's most important clients—to dine at his home. The situation unfolded in an odd, unnatural way, something that now, looking back, seems highly suspicious. At the time, however, she couldn't quite grasp what was really happening.