Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Kaijin Uno

1

The Air Factory operated by Dr. Akazawa was perched on a plateau 1,300 meters above sea level along the windswept shores of Lake Rightfoot.
At this Air Factory, over the span of about three years, as many as six employees had vanished one after another in strangely bizarre disappearances.
And to this day, not a single one had ever returned.

Since so much time had passed that it was generally believed none could still be alive, there persisted a single strange rumor about the place.
It was said that whenever his employees vanished, a fierce West Wind would inevitably blow; thus, the workers came to dread those winds with utmost terror.

On the very day this story begins, as a Great West Wind with gusts around ten meters per second began sweeping across the late-autumn plateau, the workers’ faces grew pale, their expressions etched with terror as if expecting some calamity.
When night fell, they left their tasks half-finished and streamed out of the factory in small groups.
For them, returning to the factory dormitory to sleep under their futons on such nights was more frightening.
As if by prior agreement, they all headed out to a tavern in the neighboring village for an all-night drinking spree.

The only ones left behind were the factory owner Dr.Akazawa, a young engineer named Aotani Jirou, and two gatekeepers.
In addition, within the annex on the premises—which served as Dr.Akazawa's residence—there was a youthfully made-up woman named Mrs.Shuko, the doctor's wife, who appeared more like his daughter than his spouse, shut away completely alone.

Engineer Aotani also drove off in his truck as usual at 8 PM.
The light in Dr. Akazawa’s private room remained on for a long time.
However, when ten-thirty arrived, that light too went out, plunging the main building into utter darkness.
The gatekeepers too retreated into their hut, leaving only the West Wind to rattle the glass doors and fences with its eerie howling, as if claiming dominion over all.
Had the demon of the lakeshore ridden the West Wind back once more?

That night too had grown quite late.

About one kilometer west along the National Highway from this Air Factory lay the aforementioned Shonai Village.
There, facing the National Highway, stood the village’s sole police box.
The young officer on night duty, buffeted by the legendary West Wind, pondered the bizarre disappearances.
This incident had been reported to the prefectural prosecutorial authorities along with the infamous legend, and though they had responded that they would dispatch a suitable investigator in due course, neither personnel nor further instructions ever arrived afterward.
It had been utterly disregarded.
Had there been immediate discoveries of corpses or bloodstains, it would have caused an uproar; but as these remained mere unspectacular disappearance cases, he couldn’t help feeling indignant that the Shonai Village police box was being thoroughly mocked, even with six victims going unrecognized.
Tonight, if anything were to happen, he resolved to muster every ounce of courage in his body and confront the demon riding in on the West Wind.

Exactly at 11:30 PM, a man of workman-like build came trudging past the police box.
As soon as the man noticed the officer on duty, he quickened his pace briskly and tried to walk past.

“Hey! Stop—”

The officer shouted and charged toward the suspicious man.

The tall, lean man stopped dead upon hearing the officer's barked command.
His arm was seized without resistance.

“Where do you think you’re going at this hour?”
“Come with me to the police box for a moment.”

The man obediently allowed his arm to be taken and was dragged toward the police box.
The officer never once looked away from the suspicious man’s eyes—those peculiar, glinting eyes beneath his hat.
But when he had dragged him as far as the police box’s light, he was so startled he nearly lost his footing.

Blood!
Blood!

Whether it was the suspicious man’s hat, the shoulders of his upturned trench coat collar, or even his face—copious amounts of dried blood were splattered across them all.
This was quite a catch.

“Behave!”
“You murderer!”

The brawny officer wrenched the suspicious man’s arm behind his back and swiftly bound him with a restraining rope.

“Don’t be rough! Why are you tying me up?”

The suspicious man twitched his eyebrows and said.

“Don’t play dumb.
You’ll understand why you’re being tied up faster by looking than by me explaining.”

The officer removed the mirror from the wall and held it out before the suspicious man for him to see.
The suspicious man's face paled sharply, and he bit down on his lip.

It was a major catch.
This catch on a night of West Wind was like a duck arriving with its own scallions—a gift fallen straight into his lap.
Had he carelessly dozed off even momentarily, the suspect would surely have escaped.
Had that occurred, tonight too would have ended as nothing more than another ghost story.
It was truly a close call.
At last, he captured the bloodstained suspicious man.
When morning comes, I should go to the Air Factory by bicycle.
Surely, someone else must have disappeared during tonight.
Who on earth could that be?

As he felt himself growing increasingly excited, the officer rang the emergency telephone bell at the K-town Police Station in the dead of night.

2

Murderer Captured!

Shonai Village was in an uproar as if turned upside down. Among them, the most shocked were the members of the jurisdictional K-town Police Station. When word arrived that a bloodstained suspicious man had been captured at the Shonai Village police box, Chief Oka led his team without regard for the late hour, rushing to the scene. After a preliminary inspection, they established a temporary interrogation room in the vacant infectious disease ward of the village hospital—a rather peculiar arrangement—and moved the suspect there. As dawn broke and they finally caught their breath, a call delivered grim tidings: the West Wind’s fiend had stolen young Mrs. Shuko from the Air Factory the previous night. Deeming this critical, Chief Oka’s team—eyes reddened further by their sleepless night—raced by car to the troubled Air Factory. Yet for all that, that the seventh victim should differ so starkly from those before—none other than Mrs. Shuko, the Air Factory’s queen—proved a truly unforeseen development.

Chief Oka passed through the gate of the Air Factory while pressing his rheumatically aching lower back.
What an eerie building that was.
According to the main station’s ledger, the Air Factory’s business items were liquid air, oxygen gas, neon gas, several other types, and balloons; yet he felt strange to think that such unusual products originated from this bizarre building.

Upon entering what was called the main building and waiting in the reception room, two individuals came in.

“Ah, well, this is…”

The small man leading the way—with a goatee, an earthen-complexioned face, and thick-lensed glasses—greeted him in a shrill voice.
This was the factory owner—a Doctor of Science who introduced himself as Akazawa Kin’ya.

“I am Engineer Aotani Jirou.—”

Next, the one who had been standing behind introduced himself in this manner; unlike the factory owner, he was a young man of handsome features though displaying a touch of intellectual affectation.

“What the hell’s going on here?” the Chief asked in a blunt voice.

“When it comes to these repeated disappearances occurring again and again like this, I must hold you responsible.”

When told this, Dr. Akazawa rolled his eyes and glared at the Chief.

“If three years’ worth of disappearances remain unsolved, even we would begin to doubt the police’s competence.”
“Please find my wife quickly.”

Engineer Aotani seemed to be fretting alone in the background.

Chief Oka barked, “You’ll tell everything now,” then began by questioning the factory owner about the circumstances surrounding the wife’s disappearance.

“I was at the factory until around ten last night,” said Dr. Akazawa, moving only his mouth.
“I was reading in my room on the second floor of the main building because I had some research to do.”
“When the clock struck ten, I turned off the lights, left the main building, and returned to the annex.”
“That building is allocated as the residence for my wife and myself.”
“However, my wife did not come out to greet me.”
“I went to check my wife’s room.”
“My wife was not there either.”
“I searched everywhere, but there was no trace whatsoever.”
“Since then, I haven’t seen my wife even once.”
“That is all I know.”

“What did you think Mrs. Shuko was up to?”

Chief Oka asked.

“Yes, I thought she was likely in bed.”
“However, the bed remained neatly made with no signs of having been slept in.”

“Was the light lit?”

“No, it was not.”

“Don’t you keep a maid or such?”

“There was one maid, but two days prior—owing to a bereavement in her family—she had taken leave and returned home.”
“Thus my wife ought to have been alone that night.”

“What was her name?”
“Pray elaborate further.”

“Her name is Mine Hanako.”
“There’s nothing particularly distinctive about her,” he continued flatly. “But she had relatives at Koiguchi—east across Lake Rightfoot—where her older female cousin was said to have passed away.”

“You noticed your wife’s disappearance in the middle of the night—why didn’t you call for help?”

“I don’t rely on anyone except Engineer Aotani.”
“That’s why I wanted to contact him, but his house is over a kilometer along the south shore of the lake—at Koiguchi—making it quite difficult.”
“There’s a truck available during daylight hours, but since Engineer Aotani always drives it home, that option vanishes by night.”
“So I resolved to wait for dawn and his return to work.”
“Moreover—I haven’t stepped outside this factory once in over ten years!”

Chief Oka let out a low hum, his gaze fixed on Dr. Akazawa’s face, then turned squarely toward Engineer Aotani.

“What time did you head back yesterday, hmm?”

“Around eight o’clock.”

“Did you take the truck, hmm?”

“Yes.”
“Did you stop somewhere on your way, hmm?”
“I didn’t stop anywhere.”
“I went straight home.”
“Do you have any leads regarding Mrs. Shuko’s disappearance?”
“None whatsoever.”

Chief Oka fixedly stared down at Engineer Aotani, but—

“Have you been wearing those shoes since yesterday, hmm?” he said.
Those shoes bore fresh red soil.
This was unusual soil for the area.

“Well… This morning I went around searching inside and outside the factory, so…”

Chief Oka then had the two men guide him through the factory’s main rooms.
They examined both the workshop with its large machinery and the power room.
They checked the warehouse and office as well.
The most thoroughly inspected areas were Dr. Akazawa’s private quarters, Engineer Aotani’s personal room, and the somewhat complex chamber bearing a sign that read *Special Research Laboratory*.
The Special Research Laboratory was permitted only for Dr. Akazawa and Engineer Aotani to enter—the place where their vital research was conducted.
Though filled with various specialized cabinets, machinery, and workbenches, no bloodstains were found there.
Ultimately finding no abnormalities within the factory itself, they moved on to inspect the annex residence next.
This inspection likewise only helped corroborate Dr. Akazawa’s account—not a single suicide note from Mrs. Shuko came to light.

“The factory’s still a pain,” said Chief Oka, knocking his aching lower back. Given this, returning to interrogate the bloodstained man arrested last night must be the more efficient approach.

The group withdrew by automobile.

3

“Statement by Murao [Name]―”

With the heading “Statement by Murao [Name]―” messily scrawled in pencil, Chief Oka quietly opened the police notebook, settled into his swivel chair at the chief’s desk, and muttered under his breath.

“Murao Rokuzou, thirty years old... I see... Quite an interesting name he came up with.”
“Now, regarding that day’s movements… First…”

Given that we could not keep pace with Chief Oka’s sluggish speed as he painstakingly reread [the notebook] in this fashion, we shall next delineate its essential points.
That within this bloodstained man’s statement regarding his movements had lain concealed a vital key to solving this case was something that would only come to be realized in time.

(1) Murao [Name] had attempted to travel from Higashioka Village (the eastern region of Lake Rightfoot—a body of water stretching east-west—with Koiguchi referring to its lakeside section within Higashioka) across Lake Rightfoot to Shonai Village (the western area where the Air Factory stood at the lakeside edge). However, day turned to dusk while he was still in Higashioka Village, leaving him far from the lake waters.

(2) Around 7:30 p.m., when he thought he had come quite near the lake waters, he strayed into a cemetery. There, illuminated by his flashlight’s beam, stood a freshly dug grave adorned with two fluttering gauze dragon banners for the newly deceased. The gravestone bore a woman’s name, though he couldn’t recall it. However, the grave had only just been covered with soil—the earthen mound’s shape had not yet formed.

(3) Since there were truck tracks beside the grave, thinking that following them would lead to the main road, he traced them and eventually came before a house.
On the nameplate was inscribed "Koiguchi 100-banchi, Aotani Jirou."
In front of that house, the lake waters were turbulent.

(4) Intending to cross the lake waters, he looked for a boat and found a small one, so he boarded it and rowed westward and westward.
The west wind gradually grew stronger, and the boat made little headway.
When he came about halfway, the lights of the Air Factory came into view directly ahead.
As he rowed on with renewed vigor, the wind suddenly shifted, blowing the boat to the north shore.
At that moment, what he noticed was that a very cold rain had begun to sprinkle against his face, but since he was sweating profusely, it felt refreshing.
This rain soon ceased.
After that, he rowed skimming along the shore until reaching the lakeside edge.

(5) He came ashore at the lakeshore around 10:30 p.m. As he passed by the Air Factory, he noticed something white in the vicinity. When he shone his flashlight on it, he saw three balloons within the premises, their massive forms tied to stakes on the ground and swaying gently in the wind. The factory's middle windows appeared unlit.

(6) After that, he left the factory, crossed Ohnishigahara, and was apprehended by an officer from the police box when he reached the row of houses in Shonai Village.

“...I see, this is interesting.”

Chief Oka was quite pleased with himself.

“What’s so amusing?”

A shrill voice rang out above the chief’s head.
When the startled chief turned around, there stood Mr.Taguma—president of the K Shinbun newspaper, with whom he had a hostile relationship—sneering.
After he had finished copying the entire contents of Chief Oka’s notebook onto straw paper, he launched into a tirade in a harsh, unmodulated voice.

“If you’re going to open that notebook, quit showing me this drivel and just point out where the criminal’s name’s written.”

“Hey you! You’re nothing but a thief!”
“If you’ve got that much free time, study obstruction of official duties instead!”

Taguma cleared his throat and strode off in the opposite direction.

“That bastard’s a real nuisance… Now’s the time to…”

As Chief Oka carefully folded his notebook and sank into contemplation, the Shonai Village police officer entered and saluted before his desk.

“I have come to report.”

“Ah, you.”
“No—good work.”
“How did that go?”

The police officer was one who, under the chief’s orders, had been conducting a search around Lake Rightfoot’s shores since this morning.

“In accordance with your orders, first I went to the Air Factory. It was eight in the morning, but only four balloons were anchored to the ground.”

“Four?”
The chief opened his notebook and tilted his head.

“According to the statement, three balloons were spotted via flashlight—it says here.”
“So your report has one more than that, huh?”

The chief, licking his pencil again and again, wrote a “4” next to the three.

“Second, regarding the boat that Murao [Name] boarded at the lakeside edge—we searched for it but could not find it.”

“The boat couldn’t be found?”
“I see.”
“Try searching within the lake waters.”

“Then regarding the truck tracks said to lead from the cemetery to Aotani Jirou’s house—these weren’t clearly visible.”
“Though I did see signs that someone had leveled the ground.”

“Hmph, hmph,” the chief grunted while writing in his notebook again. “What happened after that?”

“Next, about the newly deceased—that was indeed present.”
“It’s Mine Yukino’s grave.”
“She tragically died from placenta previa during her first childbirth...”
“Regarding this grave, it was mostly as you’d described, but where it differs is—while we’d heard soil had been spread over the new burial, that was incorrect. A proper earthen mound had already been formed.”

“Hmm, I see,” said the Chief, licking his pencil again.
“Next…”
“That is all.”

“Yeah, good work here.”
“You may take your leave now.”

The police officer faced the chief and gave a crisp bow, then turned sideways to offer another bow, performed an about-face, and left.

“Well, with all this evidence gathered, my honor should be preserved at last.”

Chief Oka muttered.
The moment that familiar *ahem* cough was heard behind him, Chief Oka’s face abruptly contorted as if he’d bitten into a bitter bug.

“What in the blazes is this?”

The one who thrust a sheet of straw paper—scrawled edge-to-edge in frantic pencil strokes—under Chief Oka’s nose was none other than Mr. Taguma, president of the K Shinbun newspaper, whom the chief had assumed left long ago.

“Cut this sluggish nonsense.”
“With this approach, the murder case won’t be solved even if years pass!”
“We’ve already botched six extra editions up to now.”
“What about that bloody bastard you’ve got pinned as your prime suspect?”
“Drag that wretch out here.”
“You’ve got that shady character surrounded tight this time—who the hell is he anyway?”
“Next time I come, if you’re still glaring at that notebook, I’ll plaster this fiasco across every paper—got it?”

Mr. Taguma, having said what he had to say, strode off again in the opposite direction.

“A fool without wisdom is a pitiful thing.”
So saying, the chief grinned meaningfully and began reading Murao [Name]’s statement again, but—

“Ah yes—I’d been entrusted with this.”

He pulled the telephone closer, stated the number, and called K-town’s weather station.

“Ah, this is K Police Station here.”
“Um, I’d like to inquire about the wind speed and direction in the area centered around Lake Rightfoot from last evening through this morning. …I see… I see,” he remarked with frequent nods of understanding. “So, until around 9:30 last night it was a west wind, after which the wind direction abruptly shifted to southwest.”
“Ah, I see.”

The chief again meticulously wrote something in his notebook.
He stood up and then ordered his supervisor to prepare a car.

“I’ll make a quick trip to Shonai to meet Murao [Name], then swing by the Air Factory depending on circumstances,” he declared before departing.

Later, the officers wondered why their aging chief had been uncharacteristically energetic and employed such shrewd investigative methods this time alone.

4

The short-tempered President Taguma was stomping his feet on the floor of his office.
At his feet, about three workers in work clothes—nervously wary of the president’s stomping feet—were busily pulling out wires from under the floor and splicing them together.
They seemed to be engaged in telephone installation work.

“Hey! How much longer’s this gonna take?”

“It’ll be done soon…”

At precisely the opportune moment, the installation was completed.
The workers pressed the receiver to their ear and fiddled with the dial on a radio-like apparatus; then, after grinning faintly, they detached the receiver and presented it to the president.

“You can hear through this now.”
“Alright—everyone clear outta the room quick!”

The group scurried out as if their feet barely touched the floor.

“Well now, this’ll let me see clear through that Shonai Village interrogation room business.”
“No matter how them police try to hide what that Murao Rokuzou’s confessin’, there ain’t no way I won’t sniff it out.”
“Chief Oka’ll be sittin’ there slack-jawed when it all comes down!” President Taguma was mighty pleased with himself, having sneaked a phone line from the locked-up room where they kept Murao Rokuzou—letting him listen in on every word said there.

Before long, the long-awaited conversation from the interrogation room began to come through, albeit in low tones.

An unfamiliar voice said, “I must apologize for the intrusion.”

“No, it’s nothing…” came what was unmistakably Chief Oka’s voice.

“...Given those circumstances...” continued the initial speaker.

This appeared to be a continuation of their earlier discussion.
“My deduction stands ninety percent proven—but regrettably, with the final ten percent still unclear, I remain confined to conjecture.”
“To explain this unsatisfactory state of affairs as mentioned earlier—after verifying that a strong west wind would blow that night—the culprit boarded one of those balloons carrying pulverized remains.”
“When he untied the rope, the balloon began ascending steadily.”
“With the wind blowing directly westward—observe here—the balloon emerges precisely above Lake Rightfoot’s central axis.”

President Taguma panicked when the topic of Lake Rightfoot’s location came up. When he looked around and saw a subscriber distribution map of the area—including Lake Rightfoot—posted on the president’s office wall, he moved toward it, clutching the entire eavesdropping setup in both hands.

(...Given that Lake Rightfoot’s vertical centerline runs precisely east-west, there was no choice but to select days with west winds for positioning the balloon at the lake’s exact center.)
“Now then, at an opportune moment, his culprit scattered the ash-like powdered human remains from the balloon toward the lake surface.”
“Carried by the west wind, these human ashes would fall onto the water’s surface, but as I mentioned earlier—with the balloon positioned along the central line—even if the ashes spread north or south or drifted eastward, they’d land neatly within the lake and never reach dry land.”

"If all [the ashes] fell into the water, they would eventually be buried in fish bellies. That way, his corpse would be completely erased. What a splendid method of corpse disposal!"

"Indeed, this is an outstanding approach."

Chief Oka exclaimed in admiration.

“With this method, six victims were successfully disposed of. The fact that a strong west wind was blowing that night is proven by the weather station’s report on wind speed and direction that the chief obtained. The seventh victim, too, was similarly loaded onto a balloon and hoisted high into the sky. And in the same manner, the pulverized corpse was scattered from the balloon toward the lake surface. However, unlike the previous six times, two miscalculations occurred. That was a truly unfortunate incident for the culprit.”

“Two miscalculations—the first was that while he was scattering them, the west wind that had been blowing until then suddenly shifted direction to southwest. To explain what happened as a result: the human ashes that had been flying due east were now redirected northeastward, and finally, a portion of them landed on the northern shore of Lake Rightfoot. Look here. This strange reddish-black substance contained in this bottle is none other than the flesh fragments of the seventh victim, which I collected today from the northern shore of Lake Rightfoot.”

President Taguma was greatly frustrated that while he could steal the phone conversation, he couldn't steal a glimpse of the bottle containing human flesh.

“The other miscalculation was...” began the voice, when an unexpected “Gah!” rang out.
“This is strange...
There’s something weird here...” was all that could be heard before a clang resounded, after which nothing more was audible.

President Taguma’s face flushed crimson with frustration as the wiretap cut out at the crucial moment.
He immediately summoned the workers again to fix it, but after about five minutes, they timidly appeared before the president and spoke.

“President, it’s no use anymore.”
“They disconnected the secret transmitter on their end.”
“With this method, eavesdropping won’t work anymore.”

The president realized everything and let out a bitter laugh.

“So, I’ll head to the Air Factory now.”

As he walked, President Taguma crossed his arms and pondered the various intriguing questions he had gleaned from that wiretapping.

"Who on earth was talking with Chief Oka?"
"He seems quite competent, but would a man like that really be at the K Police Station?"

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t come up with such a clever person.
He set that question aside for now, but there were other seeds of doubt.

“According to what I heard, they seem to be working under the assumption that they’d crush the victims’ bodies into pieces and scatter them from a balloon—but could such a thing even be possible?”

I’d heard of cases where corpses were dismembered or chopped into bits, but never one like this—where they’re reduced to something as fine as flour or ash that could vanish with a breath. How would someone even pull that off?—It was fascinating, but an even tougher nut to crack.

As I turned it over in my mind,

“Hmm, this is it.”

President Taguma clapped his hands.
He realized that what that man had mentioned—about solving nine-tenths of the problem but being stuck on the final tenth—referred precisely to this matter.
Even that man didn’t understand how the human ashes were created.
When this dawned on him, it felt contrarily satisfying—as if their positions had flipped.

“Then there’s the other point where the call got cut off—about the two miscalculations. One was the west wind suddenly shifting southwest, but just as he was going to mention the other miscalculation…the line went dead.”
“What could he possibly have been about to say?”

――He'd thought about this one too, but couldn't figure it out. Yet this matter seemed somehow hazy yet bright—like something that should have been solvable. It felt like he'd already noticed something crucial, only to experience a mental block—that very thing now eluding his grasp despite being right there in his mind.

Before long, the car he was riding in arrived in front of the Air Factory.

5

He alighted from the car, entered through the gate, and marched straight inside through the entrance hall.
Being a frequent visitor, when he rushed into the large reception room beside the entrance hall, there stood Chief Oka—who had arrived earlier leading a squad of police officers—and their clumsy gazes snapped together.
Veins stood out on Chief Oka’s face.

“Well, well—” President Taguma called out.
“That won’t do.
After going through all the trouble of listening in, cutting it off halfway—that’s not very manly of you!”

Once again outmaneuvered, Chief Oka stood gaping, unable to utter a single word.

At that moment, the factory owner Akazawa Kin'ya and Engineer Aotani entered.

"Ah, this is…"

Mr. Akazawa greeted the police chief in a lifeless voice.

“I knew you’d come here, Chief.”

Engineer Aotani said amiably.

“Well, today is actually…” Chief Oka began to state his purpose, glancing nervously at his hands.
“I came to get a bottle of liquid air.”

Mr. Akazawa nodded repeatedly, looking increasingly on the verge of tears.
After Mr. Akazawa ordered Engineer Aotani to guide them,

“Chief,” he said, turning toward the police chief, “how about that case? How much have you figured out?”
“How much have you figured out?” he asked timidly.

“No need to worry—I’ll soon avenge whoever harmed your wife.”
“We’ve confirmed the culprit disposed of the corpse in the lake.”
“Now we just need to figure out why they ground it down to ash-like dust.”

“Ah, I see,” said the factory owner, trembling violently as he pressed a hand to his mouth. “Then who is the culprit?”

“I cannot make an official statement yet.”
“But we might as well say it’s already solved.”

“Hey, quit spouting nonsense already!” President Taguma barged in.

“What could this incompetent chief possibly understand?”
“Even though you’ve been spoon-fed every clue,”
“Stop wasting breath on drivel and do your damn job!”

Engineer Aotani, who had been observing the exchange, chuckled and ushered the chief’s group toward the factory.

The factory stretched cavernously around them, its machinery looming like tools from a titan’s workshop.
Through gargantuan compressors forcing air through endless cycles of pipes and chambers, azure liquid air cascaded from an apparatus corner—hissing pale vapor as it swirled into an insulated flask.

Meanwhile, when liquid air was placed into a boiler and gradually heated with low heat, expensive gases such as oxygen, neon, and argon steadily streamed out from separate pipes and were seen entering iron containers as the pressure gauge's needle shifted.

The factory was far too vast.
By the time Chief Oka felt as though his hips no longer belonged to him, they had arrived at the liquid air storage room.

"You’re not a ghost, are you?" President Taguma sneered upon seeing Chief Oka’s face, having already taken the initiative to wait in that room.

"I’d long thought you’d become the eighth victim in some corner of this factory."

Chief Oka struggled to restrain himself from retorting, given Engineer Aotani’s presence.

“Now then, let me distribute the liquid air.”
With these words, Engineer Aotani pulled up an appropriately sized magic flask from the floor onto the workbench.

“And while we’re at it—as a precaution—allow me to demonstrate liquid air’s properties through an experiment.”

Engineer Aotani took down a large double-layered glass goblet from the nearby shelf.
It seemed to hold about one liter.
Next, he picked up the magic flask from the floor and tilted its mouth over the goblet.
Amidst gurgling and rising white mist, that beautiful sky-blue liquid filled the glass vessel to the brim.

“How about it? Quite beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It’s the same as the beautiful sky colors Hiroshige depicted.”

Chief Oka and Mr.Taguma gazed in fascinated admiration.

“After all, this liquid air maintains a frigid temperature of -190 degrees Celsius. Anything immersed in it becomes thoroughly chilled—extremely hard and brittle.”
“Observe.”
“This is an apple.”
“Let’s put this in.”

The engineer stabbed a red apple onto the tip of his chopsticks and plunged it deep into the liquid air.
A creaking sound rang out as the liquid air bubbled violently.
When he lifted the chopsticks afterward, a crimson apple emerged from the bottom of the goblet—but upon exposure to air, it instantly absorbed moisture and its surface became covered in pure white ice.

“Now then, this thoroughly chilled apple has become quite hard.”
“For small nails, you could use this apple as a substitute hammer to drive them into wood.”

The engineer found a small nail, stabbed it into the platform, and rhythmically tapped its head with the frozen apple as a substitute hammer.
The nail sank into the platform with each strike, just as expected.
The group of spectators was dumbfounded.

“Now then, as hard as this apple is, allow me to demonstrate just how brittle it can be.”
“Here is a hammer.”
“Now I’ll try striking it hard with this.”

With that, the engineer took the hammer and glared at the frozen apple on the platform.

“Hyaah!”

With a hollow crack, the hammer cleanly shattered the apple.
Oh how strange! Just when one expected the apple to splatter, it instead transformed into a red-white mist that scattered in all directions, leaving not a trace behind!

6

“The apple’s vanished!”

the chief shouted.

“No, you’ll see it any moment now. Look at this platform. You’ll see reddish ash-like particles gradually accumulating here. What scattered is settling down—this was pulverized. It’s part of the apple…”

Chief Oka stood rigid as a rod at this moment.

“Ah, I’ve got it!”
“Ah, I’ve got it!”

He pounded his chest and shouted.

“Ah! The mystery of the Human Ash Case is finally solved! All seven victims were immersed in liquid air. Then after being frozen at minus 190 degrees Celsius, they were shattered with hammers or such and transformed into that human ash! Alright—I’ve got it! The criminal is undoubtedly inside this Air Factory!”

Just as the Chief shouted, the desk telephone rang. As Engineer Aotani was about to pick it up, the highly agitated Chief came from the side and snatched it away as if seizing it by force.

“Hello?”
“Someone! Please come!”

And a shrill scream was heard.

“Who are you?”
“State your name!”

“Ah, it’s getting closer.”
“It’s my wife’s ghost!”
“Help me!”
“Ah, I’ll be killed—!”

With an eerie scream, the call cut off; the Chief’s face flushed red, then turned ashen.
The caller’s voice was unmistakably that of the factory owner.

“Dr. Akazawa is being attacked by a ghost and calling for help! Guide me to his room—now!”

“Wh—? Dr. Akazawa…!”

With Engineer Aotani leading the way, the Chief and his men followed close behind, rushing out of the room. They climbed several flights of stairs and finally reached the Special Research Laboratory.

When they opened the door, Dr.Akazawa's figure—who should have been there—was nowhere to be seen.
However, a telephone with its receiver off lay rolling on the floor.
It then became clear that the terrifying phone call had undoubtedly been made from this very room.
Where on earth had Dr.Akazawa and the ghost vanished to?

The group exchanged glances and fell silent.

“Hey, pull yourself together, Chief!” shouted President Taguma.
“Don’t you hear that strange sound?”

“A strange sound?”

Indeed, from somewhere came a series of crackling, popping sounds—an eerie noise that could be heard.

“Hmm, found it!”

Engineer Aotani rushed into a corner of the room.
There was a blue curtain hanging there.
The engineer swiftly pulled back the curtain.
Then, behind the curtain that appeared to be a dressing room, instead of a single piece of Western clothing, a white tank appeared.
He grabbed one of the handles there and vigorously turned it to the right.

“What is that?” the Chief shouted.

“This is the liquid air tank,” said the engineer, shooting a sharp glance at the group. “All of you, be careful. If you go around to the back of that large desk, you won’t survive.”

“What do you mean, no life…?”

Out of morbid curiosity, the group craned their necks and peered behind the large desk.

“I’ll open it now…”

Engineer Aotani took an iron rod from beside him and pressed down on a section of the floor.
The panel swung open smoothly, exposing what lay beneath.
There appeared a tank under the floorboards—twice the size of an ordinary Western-style bathtub.
When the group peered inside, they instinctively cried out and turned away.
Thick vapors rose like steam from the tank, below which blue liquid filled the container, its surface broken only by the silhouette of a submerged human form.
They hauled it up to find none other than Dr.Akazawa's corpse.
His entire body had frozen bone-white like a plaster cast, yet terror remained etched vividly across his features.
Engineer Aotani explained that unless someone turned this handle, liquid air would keep flooding relentlessly into the tank.

“This is getting quite interesting.”
The K Shinbō president shouted.
“I was certain Dr.Akazawa Kin’ya was the culprit, but now Akazawa’s been killed by a ghost, hasn’t he?”
“Hey Chief Oka, who the hell do you decide is the culprit now?”

Chief Oka, faced with this fierce interrogation, turned red and pale, showing clear signs of anguish.
However, seeming to have finally steeled his resolve, he spun his large body around and lunged at Engineer Aotani.
“I won’t be fooled any longer! I’m arresting you as a murder suspect!”

“This is outrageous!”

Engineer Aotani resisted fiercely but was overpowered by the physical might of the Chief’s loyal subordinates. Iron handcuffs snapped shut around his wrists with a sharp click. Yet those present besides the Chief could only stare in bewildered silence, utterly unable to comprehend what was unfolding.

“Well now, that was quite the spectacle.”
“But surely you haven’t lost your mind?” the K Shinbō president finally raised his voice.

Chief Oka paid no heed to that and led the engineer away.

“Chief—!” Aotani shouted resentfully.
“This is absolutely terrible, isn’t this?”
“Why am I being handcuffed?”
“Please tell me the reason.”

“Reason? — I’ll have you hear it from me once we’re in the interrogation room.”

7

Engineer Aotani had been brought to the center of the interrogation room and was being assailed by the Chief’s piercing glares and torrent of abuse.
He vehemently denied the crime.

“If you don’t get it, I’ll spell it out for you,” the Chief slammed his desk.
“Isn’t this a simple matter?
Only Dr. Akazawa and you could enter that special research laboratory.
You flipped over the floorboards with a crash, set up something like a Western-style bathtub underneath, then attached the liquid air tank on one side—so that by adjusting the valve, that stuff would flow into the tub. That human freezing device must’ve been your creation.
If Dr. Akazawa himself had made it, it’d be strange for him to die without leaving a will.
Even if he were being chased by a ghost, it’d be absurd for him to flee into something you made—and first off, wouldn’t you have put a lock on it to keep it from being flipped over with a crash?
Therefore, you’re the only one who knew and must’ve threatened Dr. Akazawa into falling!”

“Chief, that’s nothing but conjecture,” said Aotani curtly.
“There’s not a shred of evidence.
“Besides, I was right by your side at the time.
“How could I possibly orchestrate something as elaborate as causing a fatal fall or manifesting a ghost?”

“Hmm, still sticking to that story?”
“…About Mrs. Shuko’s murder too—I know exactly what you did.”
“You say you came back at eight that night—fine—but didn’t you first leave through the factory gate at six?”
“Thought I wouldn’t find out? The gatekeeper’s testimony proves it.”
“Then right after leaving, you claimed to have forgotten something and came roaring back by truck around seven-thirty.”
“And by eight o’clock, off you went again for real.”
“When you returned, you knew only two people were there—the doctor buried in his books and the lady in the annex.”
“In thirty flat minutes, you pulled off both the murder and scattering her remains from the skies—then swanned back at eight like nothing happened.”
“Well? Got anything to say now?!”

"That's a forced interpretation."
"I would never do such a thing."

"Even if you say you didn't kill Mrs. Shuko, can you prove it?"
"You have no one supporting you."

"If you insist on this much, there's something I must say."
"I held back from saying this thinking it would disgrace you, but..."

"What's this about shame?"
The Chief's eyes flashed.

“It is undoubtedly a disgrace. You seem to believe that the human ashes scattered over the lake that night were Mrs. Shuko’s, but that’s a grave mistake. According to the blood type test on the human flesh collected at the lakeside, you claim it was Type O, don’t you? However, Mrs. Shuko’s blood type is AB. This is the result from when Mrs. Shuko had a serious illness a few years ago and required a blood transfusion, which the doctor tested. Type O and Type AB—it’s absolutely impossible for a single person to possess both blood types at once. The owner of the human flesh and Mrs. Shuko are completely different people. You’re conducting such a sloppy investigation, yet why do you so blatantly call me the murderer of Mrs. Shuko?”

“Hmm…”

Chief Oka staggered at that moment, nearly collapsing from cerebral anemia.
The truth was, he had never considered anything as modern-sounding as blood types.
To have such a vulnerable point exposed now—how could this be happening?
His authority shattered completely in that instant.

“How about it, Chief?”
Aotani still did not relent in his harsh questioning.
“Based on that alone, I should be innocent.”
“What do you gain by tormenting me?”
“More importantly, why aren’t you interrogating that bloodstained suspect?”
“Why aren’t you interrogating that suspicious man…?”

At that moment, the back door banged open.
And then, the voice of a man Aotani didn’t know rang out.

“Are you calling *me* the suspicious one?”

The man who stood abruptly before Aotani was a tall, bearded figure of sturdy build. His work clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, yet his voice was unnervingly steady.

“I’m the one who’s innocent. As the Chief said, you’re the one who should be wearing handcuffs. But since there are slight factual errors here, I’ll make corrections. This version ought to make perfect sense to you, Aotani.”

“Who are you?”

“Me?”
“The man who sailed directly beneath the shower of human ashes over the lake.”
“A man soon drenched in blood from hat to shoulders—thawed blood that turned him into a crimson specter.”
“Indeed, this flesh and blood weren’t Mrs. Shuko’s.”
“Just as you said.”
“So whose Type O flesh was it?”
“It belonged to a woman sleeping beneath the cemetery near your home.”
“Mine Yukino—does that name ring a bell?”
“I’ve just broken open that grave mound and pried apart the coffin—empty as a hollow gourd.”
“That night, you slipped through the factory gate, stole into the graveyard under darkness’s cloak, unearthed this ‘Buddha,’ and dragged it back to your workshop.”
“Then came your grand scattering of human flesh.”
“No time to rebuild the mound properly—just a hurried blanket of soil—when along comes some passerby who spots your handiwork.”
“In other words—me, you see.”

The bearded man grinned slyly.

“That’s truly unfortunate for you, you see. After returning from scattering the human flesh, you rebuilt the grave mound and erased the truck tracks—but it was already too late. Why did you do all this? That night, you made Mrs. Shuko hide herself through your prearranged plan, making it appear exactly as though she had disappeared. You orchestrated everything so suspicion would fall on Dr. Akazawa, scheming for him to destroy himself at an opportune moment. But when the Chief suddenly handcuffed you, in your panic, you brought up matters like blood type intending to get them removed immediately. Keeping you in handcuffs for too long would be a major disadvantage for you, you see,” said the bearded man, fixing Aotani with a piercing stare.

“Why is it a great disadvantage? The longer you remain handcuffed, the more your innocent-like face darkens. You don’t actually believe that the six perverse murders you’ve committed so far will remain undetected, do you? You have utterly unforgivable tastes. You have forgotten God. When scientists forget God, they can easily end up like you forever. Even as we speak, a diver who has plunged to the lakebed may retrieve the belongings of the six victims……In your desperation to have the handcuffs removed quickly, you tried startling the Chief with counter-evidence—but you’ve only ensnared yourself in your own trap. Mrs.Shuko was hiding in your room within the main building.Mrs.Shuko once succumbed to your temptation but came to regret her past misdeeds.When she actually went to the doctor’s room to confess, he mistook her for a ghost and was startled.And finally, he fell into the trap you had set, meeting that end.At that time,I too was part of the group in a more refined disguise,so through the mention of ‘ghost’ and my prior doubts regarding the discrepancy in blood types,I realized that Mrs.Shuko was still alive.And I had already returned here a step ahead with Mrs.Shuko.If you want to meet her,shall I bring Mrs.Shuko here?”

Amid the group's astonishment, Aotani closed his eyes. However, after a moment, he raised his head again and spoke.

“Then who exactly are you?”

“Me?” said the bearded man. “I am one dispatched from Tokyo to investigate this mystery at Lake Rightfoot’s shores. To facilitate the criminal search, I had the Chief conceal my presence for an extended period.”

With that, he placed a business card atop Engineer Aotani’s handcuffs.
On it was written: "Private Detective Homura Soroku."