Pathway to Japanese Literature

Ah... I'm completely drunk.
But... let me have another glass of cognac, please...

You should have a drink too.
“Because tonight is special, you see... Yes.”
"My feelings are special, you know."
“Tonight is...”

…I’ll tell you the reason now, you know.
“I’ll tell you, so drink up one glass—it’s an absolutely terrifying story, you know… No no.”
“No matter how much of a Japanese military man you are—if you listen to my story to the end, you’ll surely be shocked and flee, I tell you.”

Ah... Delicious.
I'll have another glass.
“I’ll get completely plastered tonight… Nichevo!”
“Do you know Ms. Wanya from Restaurant Obraco…?” they’d say.
“I’ll really ramble tonight… Ohohohohoho!”
"But before you hear that story, there’s a reason it’s perfectly fine for me to drink as much as I want, you know."
“Because you see, there have been times—oh so many times—I’ve wanted to kill you… Oh my.”
“Making such a face… Hohohohoho.”
“Oh, there’s no need to make such a scary face—you should have a drink already, I’ve opened champagne you see…”

“Oh? Why shouldn’t I?”
“You’re such a strange one… How detestable.”
“I’m not that cold-hearted creature, you know.”
“Even if I killed you and stole your money, you don’t have anything worth taking anyway.”
“I know perfectly well you don’t possess one-tenth of what American sailors carry.”
“There, see?”
“Hohohoho!”
“So quit your useless fretting and drink up—if you refuse, fine, I won’t explain why I want to murder you… I’ll just slit your throat while you sleep… Go on… Down it goes… That’s right.”
“Now one for me too… This is your punishment for insulting me.”
“Hohohohoho!”

It’s the same tonight.

“I’ll turn off the light for a moment—look out that window at the opposite house’s roof… See? The snow has frozen in such mottled patches there.”
“Every time I see that mottled snow on the roof, I can’t help but want to kill you, you know.”
“So every time that happens, I drink, you know.”
“Vodka or wine or beer—anything will do.”
“Then I end up forgetting, you know.”
“I end up forgetting to kill you and falling asleep… Ah, delicious.”
“I’ll have another glass.”

“…No, I mean it.”
“I’m dead serious, you know.”
“And tonight’s when I’ve finally gotten truly serious about killing you.”
“That’s why tonight’s special… Because you look exactly like the man who took me on that life-threatening journey one night—different height and coloring aside, when I look straight at you, I could swear you’re brothers.”
“That’s why I fell so hard… No… This isn’t some mad delusion.”
“I’m not that drunk, you know.”
“No matter how much cognac I drink, I won’t start babbling… Here’s why.”
“Oh just listen… Even if it sounds mad, come on…”

“You wouldn’t know, having only just arrived—but there was an American warship that left Vladivostok recently.”
“That man was Young—the commander’s son. Yes… They called him Young like the commander himself.”
“Whether it was his given name or surname, I couldn’t tell—they simply called him that… yes.”
“He claimed to be thirty, but appeared as youthful as you.”
“A giant of a man—six feet tall, you see.”
“He wore this earnest, composed expression.”
“On that warship, they said he was both the wealthiest and most scholarly—must’ve been true, coming from his entourage of officers and sailors.”
“Though they called him a scholar—unlike you, he knew songs, played music, drank endlessly without faltering, outdanced and outgambled you by leagues… And one more thing… His storytelling held absolute mastery.”
“No.”
“Not some tangled web of a tale.”
“Marvelously entertaining… yet utterly horrifying—a love story.”
“Young himself declared he was a scholar of such matters.”

“…Yes… That Young came to this Obraco dance hall shortly after the warship arrived in Vladivostok—right from the start he seized me and began dancing.”

“Then—since my body was barely half Young’s size—the naval officers and sailors who’d accompanied him all hooted and shrilly whistled… Then Young too joined in laughing while scooping me up like a doll—the moment we’d fled into this room he snatched the key from my inner pocket and slammed the door shut… How swift he was! …But back then—having been thrown into this den barely two days prior, still ignorant of men’s true nature—I was utterly petrified, clinging desperately to Young’s naval uniform chest like a feral beast clawing at its captor.”

“Yet once alone in this room Young proved exceedingly gentle in comforting me.”

“He earnestly listened to my tale of falling from ruined baron’s daughter to restaurant dancer—ordered every manner of dish and confection—let me drink without restraint—left every coin he carried… so I felt truly happy.”

“Though it was all American currency—the owner beamed while patting my head—”

“A great triumph, a great triumph… You must work hard and take good care of that guest…”

he told me.

After that, Young came to my place almost every night.
"And as we gradually grew closer, he began teaching me all sorts of things."
“American phrases, the ABCs, how to give kisses… stories about birthstones… flower meanings… but among them all, what was most fascinating and terrifying was that splendid love story of his.”
“I was truly impressed, you know.”
"Young knew everything so well, and yet…"

“That’s a game played between men and women popular among wealthy circles in America—the richer they get, the more brutal their methods become, or so he said.”

“…Yes… It requires absolutely lavish room setups, pricey drugs, costly equipment, makeup tools, and so on—so many things—which makes it a game that poor people simply can’t manage, or so he said.”

“And so young American men and women toil away saving up money, all because they want to engage in such games—or so he said.”

“When it comes to those game methods, there are so many of them, I tell you.”
“It’d take forever to explain them all, but just to give you a taste… They’d dance while using rouge-based chewing gum or substances like medicine to bloody each other… Or they’d light just one large candle in a room dyed crimson from ceiling to floor to walls to curtains, then have men and women—completely nude, their bodies painted with makeup and slathered thickly in perfumed oil—dance wildly around it with their hair flying loose.”
“Then, as the red glow of that candlelight gets absorbed by the walls and ceiling until it turns pale as will-o’-the-wisps, the dancers’ bodies start shimmering in reds and greens and purples—just like damned souls burning in hell.”
“At the same time their skin flares up hot until they feel like they’re burning alive—so when they desperately try to grab their partner… Look! They’re too slick with oil to get any grip.”
“Eventually they become so agonized they could die—collapsing completely exhausted… You see?”
“Isn’t that just exquisite? …But there’s still an even more horrifying story.”

“Uh… I already said I get it…”
“Lies… How could anyone understand?”
“You’ll never understand unless you listen through to the end.”
“The reason I want to kill you is… Well, if you’d just stay quiet and listen… I’ll give you a fine cigar…”

“And then... if you keep indulging in those terrifying pleasures, eventually—no matter how outrageous the games become—they quickly grow tired of them, or so he said.”

“Then in the end, they apparently reach a point where they can’t rest until taking someone they claim to love and either tormenting them to death with their own hands or doing something equally awful—or so he said.”

“In other words—killing their own partners while still fond of them before growing bored, then hunting for new ones over and over—that’s supposedly America’s most luxurious popular game… Hohohoho.”

“Shocking, wasn’t it?”

“Hey, you.”

“No one would ever truly believe such a story.”

“Even I laughed it off as nonsense back then, I tell you.”

“Because while a man might be capable of such things—a woman even considering such violent games? Unthinkable.”

“Hey.”

“No matter how you slice it…”

"But then, when I acted tenderly and listened to Young’s stories, they gradually began to feel real—how strange that was, I tell you."
"American women, when it comes to such games, are far stronger-willed than men—or so he said."
"The reason there are so many single men and women in America is because they know the marvelous pleasure of such games—and for those people, there are supposedly clubs and hotels in every big city where they’re provided with beautiful men and women abducted from all over, all to let them play out these splendid games… In other words, it’s the American way that anything at all can be done if you have money—or so he said."
"So when it comes to a heaven for love, Young boasted that there’s no place in the world today but America."

“But you see... among them all, there's said to be just one game—the most splendid, the most luxurious, the ultimate indulgence—that even the wealthiest can rarely experience, I tell you.”
“Hey... isn’t it fascinating... That’s...”
“As I just said—after growing bored with all those marvelous money-driven games until they’re utterly at their wit’s end—it becomes a marvelous, utterly marvelous, supremely reckless game that one or two among them would want to try… a life-risking delightful game that truly cannot be bought with money at all—or so he said… Now you’d understand, wouldn’t you?”
“The way to play it… uh… you say you don’t know… Well...”

"But Young said that game's true origin lies in Japan, I tell you. A game found nowhere else in the world—one that's been uniquely popular in Japan since ancient times—has lately sent American scholars into a frenzy of study, making it absolutely infamous... You still don't get it? ...Well then... shall I spell it out for you?"

"Young said that, I tell you. 'Japanese art handpicks only the very best aspects from every art form in the world...' No, this isn't nonsense, I assure you. Since Young said so... though I don't really grasp it myself... that's why in Japan, even regarding love games, while all other methods have fallen out of fashion, only the most splendid one remains—just that single one—even now."

"One reason might be that Japanese people don't have much money, so they abandon all other expensive options and find satisfaction in that single splendid one... Lately American scholars have been obsessively researching this—but purely academically, mind you. Not one soul in America has shown the courage to actually try it... You mean you don't know about this splendid game existing in Japan? ...Oh come now—that can't be true."

"Young's a scholar—he wouldn't lie. You know it but simply don't realize it. In Japan... it's not so unusual..."

“Huh?… The name of that game, you ask?… I’ve completely forgotten it, I tell you.”
“No, really… I might remember it yet… but all I recall now is how to play that game.”
“It’s quite a splendidly delightful way to play—just hearing about it makes your heart race.”
“In American terms, it meant something like ‘the impasse of love games,’ I tell you.”
“In Japanese terms, it had a much shorter name, but… Hmm?”
“……You want me to tell you how to play that game?……Hmph……I’ll keep that part to myself on purpose, I tell you.”
“That’s perfect because you haven’t remembered.”
“I’ll save that pleasure for the very end.”
“……Yes… Tonight, I’m being quite spiteful.”
“Hohohoho.”

"But when I first heard such stories, I was so shocked that I clutched my hair tightly while trembling violently as I listened—I tell you."
"Back then, I was much more naive than I am now... So as Young sat there calmly sipping alcohol with that pallid face while telling such stories, his figure in military uniform gradually grew terrifying to me—I kept thinking he might kill me at any moment, my eyes fixed on that tall, sharp nose of his, those sky-blue eyes sunken at the sides, that chestnut hair so neatly parted down the middle—I tell you."
"I felt like I was talking to a demon…"

But as Young gradually taught me those games—starting with the gentlest ones first—I stopped feeling any fear at all. …Ah… Truthfully, most required going to America and using drugs or equipment anyway. And since we lacked partners for the finest Japanese-style games or other life-risking ones, we settled for imitations and talk.

“Since leaving scars would’ve caused trouble if the owner noticed, we kept those pleasures for after our American wedding—but I’d graduated from most others by then. …Though at first, playing the tormented role under Young—strangled near death, bound midair, hung by my hair—the pain was unbearable beyond endurance, I tell you.”

“But once I grew accustomed, the agony became dizzyingly sweet… When I started weeping tears of joy, Young grew jealous himself. He finally handed me his ever-present little whip and begged I strike his back full force—that’s how far we’d come.”

“Yes… I struck him with all my might, I tell you.”
“With Young, even if he had whip marks on his back, no one would notice—and I’d come to know the pleasure of tormenting myself… No, no matter how much noise was heard, it was fine.”
“I was humming a popular song nonchalantly and striking in time with the rhythm—exactly as Young had taught me—so anyone listening from outside would surely have thought I was beating something else.”
“…But oh, how wonderful it felt—striking Young’s greasy, broad back stretched across the bed with that little leather whip using all my strength… The more I struck him, the more endearing Young became… And then imagining how we could play those games full-scale once we went to America together—the anticipation became utterly unbearable.”
“So… I carved out a little time each night from those games and continued studying English earnestly with Young as my teacher.”

“I’m a master at learning languages—or so he said.”
“Young was downright astonished, I tell you.”
“It didn’t even take a month before I could hold such conversations with Young, and as for trading vulgarities with the sailors—why, that came naturally from the very start.”
“By the end, I could even read snippets from those English newspapers Young always carried in his pocket—quite impressive, don’t you think?”
“Though I can’t even properly read the Bible in my own country’s script.”
“Hohohoho.”

“Because my parents were terribly poor—they couldn’t send me to school at all… They never once bought me any makeup tools either. But thinking I’d soon become a scholar’s wife this time, I separately bought a small, elegant one of a type I’d desperately wanted for ages and stored it away at the bottom of my basket.”
“Yes.”
“That made me so happy, I tell you.”
“After all, I was just someone sold off by my parents to become a bar dancer... And on top of that, Young was the first person who ever showed me affection and taught me all sorts of pleasures... Back then, I wasn’t some chatterbox of a woman like I am now, I tell you.”
“Every man I saw was terrifying and unsettling—I couldn’t even speak properly around them—yet Young alone wasn’t frightening to me at all, I tell you… Oh… Forgive me, won’t you?”
“Shedding tears… I… crying while saying such things in front of a man—tonight is the first time, I tell you.”
“Hey… don’t laugh, okay?”

And then... and then, you see—exactly one month later, at the end of October.
Young entered with an uncharacteristically sullen face, sat facing me in this room, drank glass after glass of liquor until his eyes grew bleary, and then said this...

“Dear, dear Ms. Wanya.”
“The time has finally come when I must part ways with you.”
“The moment has arrived when I must relinquish taking you to America.”
“I must depart Vladivostok aboard the ship at dawn tomorrow and sail for Hawaii.”
“There we shall wage war against Japan.”
“Should that occur, I may perish in battle—making it impossible to bring you along.”
“Last night brought an unexpected secret order from our homeland—there’s no alternative.”
“…Yet if I survive this war intact, I swear I shall return for you.”
“Thus I implore you—just this once—to yield.”

……And as he was saying this… he took out a leather bag stuffed full of money from his pocket and made me grip it in my hand.

I slammed that leather bag onto the floor and ended up crying.

"That's a lie!" I said. Though I'd long heard rumors about Japan and America being on the brink of war, Young's story felt too outlandish to possibly be true. So—"You're trying to abandon me. No matter what it takes, I won't let you go. I'll board the warship with you."

...I said，crying and crying and crying as if I’d die，but no matter what I said，he wouldn’t listen.
In the end，I sank my teeth into his collar like a wild animal and，with one hand，clung tightly to the military uniform’s pocket—and wouldn’t let go…

Young seemed genuinely troubled.
While holding me—who was pressing my face against his military uniform’s shoulder and whimpering—on his lap, he stayed completely still for a while.
But then, as if suddenly recalling something, he pushed my face away and, staring straight into my eyes, began speaking in a low voice entirely unlike before.

“Ms. Wanya.”
“I have a good idea.”

he said.
At that moment, still not understanding what was happening, I startled and stopped crying as I looked up at Young’s face—Young turned ghastly pale, his face taking on an eerie quality as he stared intently into my eyes and slowly began to speak.
In the same low voice as before...

“Ms. Wanya.
“I have a good idea.
“If you care for me that deeply, won’t you do one bold thing for me?
“I will go to the coast warehouse now to retrieve a large hemp sack—won’t you get inside it?
“If you wrap yourself in a blanket, no one will tell whether you’re human or cargo, and I think you won’t feel cold either. So would you do that—disguise yourself as my luggage, come aboard the warship, and lie in the storage room for me?
“Then, once I’ve successfully negotiated with my father the Commander, I’ll have you disguised as an officer candidate and let you stay in my dressing room... Until then, I’ll personally bring you three meals a day.
“It will be terribly cramped and painful, but since it should only be temporary, could you endure it for me?”

“……And then… Hey… don’t you think… isn’t this an absolutely wonderful idea?… No—Young was serious when he said that, I tell you. He was deceiving me all along, wasn’t he? If I tell you just a bit more… yes, I’ll tell you now. I’ll keep talking, so have another drink… I’ll mix it with soda for you…”

When I heard this plan, I clapped my hands in delight. “Isn’t this far more wonderful than any of those ‘romantic adventures’ I’d seen in movies or heard about? A girl climbing into a sack of Chinese rice and boarding a warship to watch the war… can’t you imagine?… I was so overjoyed that I threw myself at Young with all my might.” And then I kissed him wildly, I tell you.

Young seemed happy too, I tell you.
"He sang songs louder than ever before and all."
And then he said to me,
"...Then wait here drinking plenty of alcohol."
"It seems specially cold tonight, so don't catch cold in the sack."
"I'll go fetch the sack now, so..."

And with that—while saying so—he put on his hat and coat and went off somewhere.

I got a little worried then.
“I thought Young might have just run off like that… but that was a needless worry, I tell you.”
Young soon returned grinning and, upon seeing my face,

“Brr, it’s freezing… Hey, could you press that call bell and summon the owner?”

he said.
I was utterly shocked at how quickly Young came back.

“My… You’ve already gone to the coast and back just now… And where did you bring that sack from…?”

When I asked that, Young pressed a finger to his lips, rolled his blue eyes wildly, and gave a peculiar smile.

“Shh… Keep quiet… I had a nearby Chinese person hide it outside.”
“You’ll understand soon enough…”

And then... while saying such things, when the owner came in, Young as usual purchased exclusive rights to me for that night, had dishes and alcohol brought in nonstop, and made me stuff myself to the brim... so I wouldn’t get hungry midway... then after giving the owner a hefty tip, he shoved that flustered bobbing bald head outside the door and locked it tight while—

“Wake me at ten tomorrow morning, eh?”

...and he shouted loudly.
After doing that, Young firmly gripped my hand and, while pointing at that window, started grinning slyly...

"I was impressed by Young's cleverness," I told you. "Back then, that window had much larger double-paned glass, with about five iron bars instead of wire mesh on the other side. We removed the glass pane, hooked a loop made from bed sheets around the middle bar, wedged a chair leg into the loop against the wall's edge, and when the two of us pulled vigorously—pop!—each bar came out one by one... Yes... We'd turned off the lights, so no one outside could've noticed... Young slipped out through that hole first, then caught me as I crawled out after him."

It was the first snowy night near Vladivostok, those uneven white snow patches on the roofs still clinging exactly as they'd fallen then. Though no wind blew, the stars glared fiercely... There I stood in that back alley—wrapped in a white blanket snatched from the bedstead, teeth chattering in my ballgown—when Young came rushing over with that hidden sack of Chinese rice from between the neighboring houses and slid it over my head. He laid me flat on the frozen earth, bound my ankles tight with his handkerchief, then hoisted me up with a grunt while murmuring low these words:

“Now then... Ms. Wanya, are you ready?”
“It will be painful for a while, but please endure it.”
“You must not speak or make a sound until I say it’s alright.”

And then… he said.
“But I was shocked because the sack was so small and cramped.”
“My body is quite petite, but even so, I had to curl my legs up as tightly as possible for them to tie the sack shut.”
“And that smell… like a train station latrine, you know?”
“The dusty stench made breathing unbearable—desperately stifling coughs that kept rising up was truly agonizing.”

“After that, I’m not sure which route we took—but it seems we went from this Svetlanskaya through back alleys alongside the park, passed near the legation, and came out to the coastal road.”
“Along the way, my lower abdomen and hips were pressed against Young’s shoulder so excruciatingly that it was unbearable, but I somehow managed to endure it.”
“Yes.”
“That was terrifying.”
“Every time Young stopped, I thought someone might be coming…”

When we reached the coast, Young boarded a small boat moored there, gently laid me down at the bottom, straddled over me, and began rowing himself… The area was still dark, waves lapping rhythmically against the hull; through the sack’s coarse weave I glimpsed flickering lights from the hill district… I forgot my suffocating breath, my aching back, my legs screaming to stretch—ears straining at occasional steam whistle blasts, heart pounding wildly all the while.
“I thought this was my farewell to my homeland… then I’d imagine myself strolling through American towns with Young… I prayed to the Icon for our happiness while quietly tracing a small cross.”

Then soon came waves sounding utterly different from before, as if our small boat had drawn alongside the warship. At that moment when I startled again and curled up tighter, pretending to be mere luggage, two men's footsteps came clattering down from above—though we'd made no signal—as if they'd been waiting all along. One of them spoke in a low growl:

"Heh heh heh... Been enjoyin' yourself all this while..."

“had started to say,” Young cut in with an equally low voice,

“Shh.
She understands… English!”

...he scolded them.
Then both men stifled chuckles and fell silent, heaving my sack from the boat with a laborer’s grunt.

At that moment, I couldn’t help feeling something was off.
“I couldn’t grasp why exactly, but how those men carried me—one supporting my shoulders… the other gently cradling my hips…—it convinced me they knew a living person filled that sack.”
“As I wondered whether Young had signaled them earlier—maybe through hand gestures—their footsteps finished one staircase only to start another: steep steps dotted with electric lights now, descending two flights where no wave sounds reached.”

By then, Young seemed to have already gone somewhere... No, the ship was silent, but I couldn’t tell when he’d disappeared... Well... Departure preparations must be that hectic... So just as you said, that warship had been ready to depart long before, waiting for orders. See... Isn’t that right?... It’s no wonder Young didn’t know the sailing date.
“They had truly set out intending to wage war against Japan, but along the way they got scared and called it off, right?”
“Oh? Why are you laughing so scornfully?”

“No—no matter how much you laugh, it must be true. Because Young never once told a lie until the very end. If you think I’m being deceived by him, that’s your jealousy talking…… Oh never mind—just keep quiet and listen while drinking your liquor. I understand your feelings perfectly. As you keep listening to the end, you’ll see whether what Young said was true or false… you see….”

"...And then... you see..."

Then, as the footsteps of the two men remaining behind who carried me descended another set of steep stairs, they arrived at a dark, wooden-planked place where a single yellow electric light glowed faintly in the distance. At the same time, the two men suddenly threw me down onto the hard floor with a heavy thud—so abruptly that I nearly cried out. But I realized this must be because people were nearby—that they’d deliberately acted so violently to make me look like nothing more than luggage. So I finally managed to endure it—remaining still where I’d been thrown—and eventually they must have left. The two men left the room slowly, ever so slowly, talking all the while in loud voices.

“Ahahahaha.”
“It’s safe now.”
“Whether they cry or scream—”

“Hahahaha.”
“But damn, Young’s cleverness shocked me.”
“Never woulda thought Russian broads were this honest!”

“Hmm.”
“A scheme this brilliant could only brew in that bastard’s head.”
“After all—post-revolution—every joint’s been dumping their used-up whores and snatching up proper young misses from good families… That’s exactly where Young set his sights.”

“Makes sense… So where’d that Young bastard scamper off to?”

“Went to haggle with his old man.”
“Askin’ if we can sneak in just a pinch of live toys.”

“...Hmm.”
“But y’know… if only pops would cough up a proper ‘yes’…”

“That’s solid.”
“I’ve got that much smarts too.”
“We’ll dangle other tales ’til time comes—keep ’em from nosing round the ship.”
“Once they’re good ’n’ movin’, we start haggling proper—then every scrap’s ours.”
“...Ain’t like they can turn tail now anyhow.”

“Hmm.”
“I see…”
“Bungle this, and we’ll make one hell of a laughingstock.”

“Yeah… ’S not like the old man’s stone-cold unreasonable either… Young’s got that part figured.”

“Ahahaha! Dead right.”
“Goddamn genius, that Young bastard…”

“Ahahahahaha!”

“Heeheeheehee!”

...As I listened to this conversation without fully grasping its meaning, I somehow became convinced everything was fine and ended up snoring away.

"Well... I suppose you could call that bold—in a way."
"But by then, I was already too utterly exhausted for boldness or anything else."
"The liquor I'd drunk earlier at Obraco and the fatigue from enduring all that misery came crashing down—I slept through even the warship's departure whistle."

But the misery and humiliation after waking up like that... Every time the warship’s machinery clanged and echoed through my body, my back pressed against the floorboards through the blanket, my hips, and my knees still bent—they all burned as if on fire.
I just wished... Young would hurry up and get here.
If he came, I’d have to get them to give me at least a sip of water—my throat was so parched I could die of thirst.
And then—I needed them to put me in a bigger sack…—that’s all I could think about.
As I tried shifting my position inch by inch so no one would notice, someone suddenly began speaking above my head—making me curl up like a turtle… It turned out to be three or four men’s voices—they’d apparently been standing right beside me talking about something since earlier…

“Haven’t we circled Russky Island yet?”

“What do you mean? You’re already in open waters.”

“…One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Four… Seventeen.”
“Fourteen... Huh?... This one’s short by one... Fourteen.”
“Fifteen.”
“Sixteen... and... Ah!”
“There it was, right under our feet!”
“That makes seventeen… Whew…”

“‘We’d follow you to heaven itself, sir…’ That’s all that bunch ever says.”

“What a damn waste… Really… If only the old man would give a proper ‘yes,’ we could’ve kicked ’em around all the way to Hawaii.”

“You idiot.”
“Do you really think we could haul ’em all the way to Hawaii Kundari?”
“What’ll we do if we get found out and end up in newspapers worldwide?”

“Nah.”
“If we shave their heads and make ’em look like cadets, it’ll be fine—didn’t Young say that?”

“No way.”
“Line up seventeen handpicked beauties from Vladivostok like this, and even a blind man’d see through it in a flash.”

“Still, what a damn waste.”
“If only they’d let us take ’em at least as far as the Philippines…”

“Hahaha! Still goin’ on about that?”
“If you’re that hung up over it, I’ll give you all the sacks—clean ’em up yourself.”
“Won’t toss in my cut though.”

“Brr! No thanks, no thanks!”

“Hah! Look at this guy… you horny bastard…”

As they traded jabs, one struck a match to light his cigar. Soon the cloying smoke came rolling in…

But the moment I smelled that scent, my mind went utterly blank. My body stiffened like stone until I couldn't even breathe. "...because it finally dawned on me then that I wasn't the only one brought onto this warship this way—you see..." "Because there still seemed to be countless sacks of Chinese rice scattered all around me, you see..." "To make matters worse, three or four rough men who'd come to dispose of them were casually trading jokes while puffing cigars... It was so terrifyingly bizarre that I couldn't think past or present at all." I just stared wide-eyed at the coarse mesh of the sack covering my nose while gripping both breasts until it hurt... wondering if this was a dream...

But it wasn’t a dream… As I clenched my teeth and strained my ears, between the intermittent clank-clank of machinery, the thunderous boom… boom… of waves began echoing from somewhere.
"...Yes... Most likely, the other women had startled and made themselves small just like I had."
It was so quiet you couldn’t even hear anyone breathing.

Then again, among them, a man who seemed to have that cigar started saying such things while puffing away vigorously with a sputtering sound.

“Wait, wait.”
“Why don’t we make one proclamation before we dispose of ’em?”
“It’d be a damn waste otherwise.”

“Idiot… If you’re gonna stop, then stop… Ain’t worth a damn penny’s effort…”

“Nuh-uh.”
“Just disposin’ of ’em like this makes for a lousy show… *Ahem*”

“If you’re stoppin’, Dick… Do that and they’ll come hauntin’ us.”

“Hahaha! If ghosts show up, I’ll bed ’em down… Nothin’ but fresh tale material… *Ahem* *ahem*”

“If you’re stoppin’, then stop… You damn fool… Like jawin’ at you makes any difference.”

“Ah, whatever—just watch already… Let’s call this some kinda floor show… Whether my words get across or not—who knows…”

As he said this, that man called Dick cleared his throat once more and began speaking in clear Russian like he was delivering a speech.

“Ahem… Lovelies in the sacks.”
“Scrape out your earwax and listen up now!”
“Hear this… You all got trussed up like cargo and smuggled here ’cause you wanted to shack up with your sweethearts, yeah?”
“And those sweethearts dragged you this far with the same bright idea—no malice intended, mind—but turns out they’ve gone and botched it.”
“Listen close… Here’s how it is.”
“…Ahem… So if you’re itching to curse someone… listen sharp… Curse that bigshot Young—the genius who put this pretty scheme in your lovers’ heads.”
“…Then there’s another… Go ahead and curse our Commander on this tub if you like…”
“…Nah… Truth be told, cursing just the Commander’s your proper play… Either way, don’t go cursing us—we’re just hired help taking orders from your dearies and such.”
“Listen… Here’s why it’s come to this.”
“When Young here asked the Commander about hauling you lot to America, turns out there’s this rule on Yankee warships—no meat allowed ’cept proper rations… So… Pity after carting you this far, but with the wind right, you’ll be taking a dip back to Vladivostok in those very sacks…”

By the time that man had rambled on this much, the rest became inaudible.
Because all around me, from the dozens of sacks scattered about, ear-splitting shrieks burst forth all at once, and the sounds of thudding and thrashing began.
There seemed to be several familiar voices among them, but in such a moment, I couldn’t tell who was who.
It was just screeching and wailing loud enough to burst one’s eardrums, you see.

But I remained silent. Before crying out, I desperately tried to tear open the sack, thrashing with all my strength. But the sack was too small and sturdy—I couldn't bite through it no matter how I tried, and when I strained against it with all my might, my neck felt ready to snap. The torment was unbearable. Yet even then, as I kept struggling for dear life, the screams around me began being carried up one by one—formed into lines of four or five each—as they started climbing the stairs. At that moment, everyone's screams seemed to briefly cease, but once the stairway sounds faded away, even more pitiful wails and piercing shrieks began swelling in chaotic disorder. They seemed to be calling men's names while whimpering piteously.

But even then, I didn’t cry. Driven to desperation, I clung tightly to my head with both hands while kicking and stomping at the knots near my feet over and over—until my entire body became drenched in sweat, my hair plastered across every part of my face, leaving me unable to open my eyes or mouth. Inside the sack, it grew stifling as if filled with steam; my hair tangled from face to upper arms—prickling and pulling out with every movement—while my kimono and blanket knotted into a mess around my chest, all pressed tightly within the sack that forced my breasts upward again and again… The agony was so unbearable—I thought I’d die any moment. And then… look. See how both arms here have flesh exposed and glistening like this? These arms—the ones Young had named “cat’s arms,” boasting they were soft and slender enough for a New York ladies’ contest—had unknowingly been torn raw, stinging with every movement… When I realized that, all strength left me… I couldn’t move out of pride or spite anymore… Just sat there clutching both arms limply, gasping for breath.

Before long, when the sound of four or five pairs of footsteps came from above again, everyone’s screams abruptly ceased.
As they descended, I could clearly hear the men’s voices.
...still jumbled with the machinery’s noise...

“Ahahaha!”
“Got dealt a real shit hand here.”
“Have Young add some more later.”

“That Dick bastard had to go ramblin’ on with his damn proclamations… Look what happened—blood’s pourin’ out like this.”

“Hahaha… Now that’s some scary shit, huh?”
“To think they’d bite through their own ears from inside the sacks…”

“They didn’t bite through.”
“They went and tried to tear ’em off by force.”
“Abruptly…”

“I got pissed on.”
“Look at this…”

“Ugh――.”
“That’s the chubby girl the Steward brought in, right?”
“That bastard had her tied up with his whip, so…”

“Yeah.”
“That baker Mr. Sony.”
“Thanks to that, the Rupashika we paid good money for is ruined.”
“Five dollars isn’t nearly enough.”

“Oh, don’t get so worked up.”
“Maybe a woman’s piss brings good luck.”

“Making us handle people… What a fucking joke…”

“Wahahaha!”

I mean… even as they exchanged such words and laughed carefreely, those men carried up about four more screams.

“There there, gently now, gently.”
“If you struggle, we’ll drop you from up high.”
“If you fall, your eyeballs’ll pop right out.”

“Do kindly refrain from pissing on me.”
“Hahahaha!”

“Well well… Take a gander at this soft, plump belly here… Ain’t worth a damn fortune, I tell ya.”

“Ah!”
“That ain’t no earlobe… Ouch!… Damn it…”

“Hahaha.”
“Just bash your skull against that.”
“That’d be quicker.”

“Agh… They did it again… Damn them… Like this…”

No sooner had I said that than—a “Gyaa!” scream tore through the room, vibrating through my very nerves.

Hearing that voice, I became frantic again, mustering every ounce of strength to start rolling across the floor.
Blindly groping toward where the electric light grew dimmest, I kept rolling and searching for some shadow to hide in.
Then the men’s footsteps scattered—some lagging behind, others moving ahead—and as they carried them up one by one, finally no screams remained in the room.
Only the warship’s rumble and faint wave sounds persisted… Every trace of human presence had vanished…

At that moment, I finally managed a small sigh and calmed myself somewhat.
"My sack must be hidden in some shadow now—I kept thinking this as I brushed hair from my face and strained to listen."

Then, after what felt like ages—just when I thought they'd all gone—came the clunk-clunk of heavy nailed boots descending the stairs.
He stopped dead center of the room and stood there scanning every corner.

The terror I felt then… It must have been a thousand times worse than any fear I’d ever known… I’m certain that moment carved ten years from my life. ……I’d curled myself up as small as possible, holding my breath without end—but the crushing silence everywhere and that sickening stillness made my head pound like a bell being struck, my stomach heaving until bile rose in my throat. In my desperate thrashing to endure it—to keep enduring—my whole body became drenched in cold sweat again.

Then, just when I thought that man had already left somewhere, he began speaking in a slow, stupid way with that odd, raspy off-key voice of his.

“...I’m tellin’ ya, there’s gotta be one missin’... They keep sayin’ I carried three loads up, but I ain’t climbed them damn stairs but twice...”

When I heard that voice and way of speaking, I felt every hair on my body stand rigid.
My teeth started chattering violently, my arms and legs trembling beyond control... Because that voice belonged to that huge, disgusting black sailor who’d once come to Obraco’s bar ages ago—the one those Para sailors had used like a plaything before tossing him out into the street. Right there in the sack, I clearly remembered how he’d turned to glare at us dancers with those terrifyingly resentful eyes... Beyond mere fear now, I lost all will to survive—came so close to fainting right then.
I nearly retched on the spot.
Then that black sailor,

“There’s just no sign of it... How strange...”

Muttering this, he struck a match and began walking away, puffing on his cigarette between steps... The relief I felt then—I dug my nails into my hand until they nearly drew blood as I prayed to Icon-sama.

...But it was no use... The black sailor who’d been shuffling toward the stairs soon made a strange noise and stopped dead.

“Aha!”
“Hidin’ there, are ya?”
“Huff, huff, huff... Damn it all... Damn it all...”

No sooner had he said that than he stomped closer and latched onto my sack.
Along with that came an acrid tobacco stench and that indescribably cloying body odor of the black sailor—both flooding thick into the sack’s confines.

I’ve no memory of how I thrashed about then……The only thing burned into me is that I didn’t make a single sound.
“I thought it’d be terrible if someone came to help.”
“But that black sailor stayed silent too.”
He must’ve meant to haul me off alone somewhere and have his way with me.
Time after time he tried hoisting my thrashing form, only to drop me hard against the floor—each impact nearly knocking me unconscious.

But even so, I didn’t make a sound.
Amidst all this rough tussling, somehow the mouth of the sack came undone, and I realized both my legs had slid out up to my hips...

When I realized this—oh, how violently I thrashed! You might laugh at me saying this—but there was no time for that! In that moment… I didn’t care anymore… Even if my legs broke, I resolved to kick this black sailor to death and escape the sack in the chaos. I kicked and kicked—his head, his face, his chest—anywhere I could strike.
Well… yes… Seems that black sailor was trying his hardest too.
He’d cling firmly to the sack from above, trying to pin down both my legs with one hand—but grabbing both together proved impossible, and even when he managed one, I’d kick it free in my death throes. In the end, panting heavily, we rolled about—him grappling at my legs, me kicking him away—until my kimono and blanket began creeping upward along with my arms, tightening until I could barely breathe. That’s when the black sailor finally seized both my ankles in a vice-like grip.

At that moment，for the first time，I let out a loud scream.
Pressing both hands to my face and arching back with all my strength，

“Help help help.”
“Young Young Young Young，” she screamed.
“Yes... That was such a loud scream.”
“I screamed until I thought my throat would tear itself apart，I tell you.”
With both legs still pinned down，I kept rearing up and arching back again and again，until I began slamming my head against the hard floorboards.
I thought it would be better to die.

Then, startled by my ferocity, the black sailor must have decided to give up.

“Ugh… ugh… Ya wanna die that bad, huh?”

Gasping out strained breaths, he grabbed both my legs and began dragging me across the floor with a scraping noise toward a corner—but then, using thin wire that must have been lying there, he coiled it round and round starting from my ankles up to my chest right through the sack, tightening it until…

The agony I felt then—that—you couldn't begin to understand no matter how I tried to explain it. Because if I even took a slightly deep breath or moved, the long thin wire would immediately dig in like a blade, making the flesh all over that area feel like it might split and fall away… And yet, no matter how much I gasped and struggled, my breath grew so ragged I couldn’t gasp enough… I nearly blacked out right then and there. But the moment I managed to gasp for breath through the agony, the wire would sear into my flesh once more as if ignited. The torments of hell—that’s truly what it was. And there I was, gasping and whimpering for breath—until finally, it seems I truly lost consciousness this time.

I don’t know how many minutes or hours passed after that, but when I naturally came to again, it seemed I was already half-dead.
I could no longer feel the pain in hands and feet……and there I was—eyes wide open—staring fixedly at some point.
So even the things I heard then remain in my memory only in fragments, like pieces of a dream.

“How about that.”
“Ain’t those some pretty legs.”

“Hmm.”
“That black bastard’s got some nerve tryin’ to claim this one for himself.”

“What a bargain—face all twisted up like that.”
“Hah!”

“However, she really struggled something fierce.”
“Judging by how much that lecherous bastard struggled…”

“Hmph. What a waste—none other than Ms. Wanya of Obraco.”

“Hmm.”
“She’s only nineteen—what a waste… If she keeps thrashing like this, even Young can’t hide her…”

“Shh… he’s coming… he’s coming…”

And amidst those whispers came another—puffing briskly on a cigarette with that light, affected gait of his—descending the stairs in slow, deliberate steps that drew him ever closer to my side…

Hearing those footsteps, my mind snapped sharply into focus.
I became so happy I could leap up... tried to call out... "Young"...

But when I tried to sit up, I realized my hands and legs had turned ice-cold up to my chest and wouldn't move.
At the same time, my voice stuck fast in my throat—if I could have at least called his name that would have been something, but I couldn't even make a sound anymore.
It was as if I were dreaming or something—my chest stiffened up.
Perhaps I'd gone mad from having kept encountering such terrifying ordeals...

Then Young let out one long, drawn-out sigh before beginning to preach to me in a quiet tone so gentle it could have been mistaken for a cat’s purr.
In refined Russian...

“Ms. Wanya.
“Do be gentle…”
“I do not do this because I hate you. Do you understand?”
“Do calm yourself properly and listen… now.”
“It is because I find you unbearably, unbearably adorable that I do such things.”
“It is because you are so beautiful and adorable that I wanted to try killing you in the same way as American noblewomen. Now.”
“You still remember that game of love I told you about before—now, now, you understand… I shall soon go to war with Japan and perish in battle.”
“Therefore, I can no longer marry any woman other than you.”
“There remains no pleasure for me other than going to heaven with you.”
“So be satisfied and please listen to what I say.”
“Now, now—be gentle and do exactly as I say—please die.”
“Now, now… you understand…”
“Now, now…”

As he spoke, Young began unwinding the wire coiled around my legs.
And once he had slowly, slowly unwound it all the way up to my chest,

"There there."
"You must have been cold."

As he said this, he placed the sack back over me just as before and tightly tied its opening.

Yes… I didn’t resist in the slightest.
I went completely limp like a corpse and did exactly as Young told me.

The quiet sadness of Young’s voice at that moment—though only for a brief instant—seeped deeply into my chest and made me forget everything.
……Somehow I began feeling as if I were in a sweet, nostalgic dream……and just like a baby being lulled to sleep by a nursery song, tears began flowing without restraint—until finally, I started bawling out loud.

“Young… Young…”

I kept saying it… and each time, Young would politely respond while putting me into the sack, then once more stroke my head through the sack.

“Now, now… you understand, don’t you, Ms. Wanya.”
“Do be gentle.”
“There there.”
“Don’t cry don’t cry.”
“Do you understand?”
“Yes yes.”
“I am Young.”
“Do you understand?”
“There… don’t cry don’t cry.”

Having said that and made me stop crying completely, he quietly stood up and—making the same affected footsteps as when he had entered—leisurely ascended the stairs and went off somewhere. But I still felt as if I were dreaming, heaving up and up until I seemed to have gone completely limp. Then, the three men who remained behind—each grabbing my head, torso, and legs—began silently carrying me upward as they started climbing the stairs. As I listened to those slow, heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet room—goton goton—I somehow began to feel as though I were entering the entrance of a church.

But soon after we ascended the first staircase, the man at the front who was holding my legs let out a strange choked groan.
And just as I wondered what he would say,

“Ugh... Slick work ain’t it... Young’s bastard... ain’t he slick pullin’ that trick... No matter where you go…”

he said with feigned admiration.
Then the man carrying my waist also began groaning in imitation.

“Ugh...
“It’s just like hypnosis.”
“With one stroke he tamed her good.”

Then again, the man carrying my head let out a hacking cough like an old man and said such things.

“Out of seventeen girls, only Ms. Wanya here’ll be goin’ to heaven… I reckon.”

“Amen… Hahahahaha.”

As they kept saying such things and climbed about two more flights of stairs, the roaring sound of waves suggested we had reached the deck, and a cold wind began whistling in through the sack, making the scraped parts of my arms suddenly sting with pain.
At the same time, bright sunlight came glittering in through the sack’s eyeholes, becoming so blindingly bright it made my eyes ache, so I pressed both hands firmly against my face.
Then, the man holding my legs—

“There… you’ve come to heaven…”

“Hehehe.”
“Ms. Wanya’s living it up.”
“Bit chilly here in heaven, ain’t it...”

“There! One... Two... Threee...”

As they chanted, the six hands that had been jostling me all released at once, and I seemed to float weightlessly into the air.

At that moment, I must have let out some sort of loud cry.
...I came to my senses with a start, as if finally waking from a dream—but before I could even process that thought, my head struck some part of the ship’s exterior with a sickening crash, and I couldn’t tell when exactly I plunged into the sea...

Then again, when I came to and opened my eyes, it felt like only a minute or two had passed…Somehow my whole body had gone numb beyond bearing, and while I was thinking how unbearably itchy everything from my waist down had become—I snapped my eyes open to find myself in none other than this very Restaurant Obraco’s basement.
There I was—naked, wrapped in a hot-water bottle and rags—dumped on that very cot where Ms. Nina, who’d died of consumption some time back, had been laid out.
Moreover, when I looked closely in the dim light of the pechka smoldering beside the cot, my hands and feet were swollen red with frostbite, with wire marks squirming like snakes across them—all smeared over with a slimy, dark-brown ointment.
The filthiness and eeriness of it all…I was so startled that I burst into tears without even understanding what was happening.

But soon after that, the Chinese cook brought me some fish soup—how delicious it was… When I asked that Chinese man named Chi about it, he said it had been exactly two days since I’d died… My sack had been thrown into the sea about two nautical miles off Russky Island, and not long after, it was picked up by a junk that passed by the warship—thanks to the care of the junk captain’s wife, I’d been revived, or so they said.
“Ms. Natasha—number seventeen—had also been picked up by the same junk, and Ms. Sonya from the bakery had been picked up by what was probably a whaling ship, but the White Army’s patrol vessel found her and handed her over to the police, or so they said.”
“But they’d all gulped down plenty of water, so it was no good, or so they said.”
“As for the other sacks—after about ten days had passed—only two of them washed ashore on the open sea coast, or so they said.”
“I was too scared to go look… but they must’ve been truly pitiful beyond words…”

“I… This is the first time I’m telling this story to you.”
“No… no one knows… because they’re all dead…”

“That incident’s caused quite a stir in Vladivostok, you know……Yes……No wonder you didn’t know—you hadn’t even arrived here yet. What’s more, the police and this house are still keeping it hushed up—they say nothing’s made it into the papers either. They’re probably just scared of America. What that warship apparently did—everyone’s noticed it, you know.”

“Yes... I was questioned about that over and over.”
“Why they did this to me—”
“For about a week after I came to my senses, police officers, the owner of our place, and all sorts of important-looking officials came to my bedside day after day—threatening, coaxing, relentlessly questioning me about what happened... In the end, they told me all sorts of things themselves... That officer named Young was a truly wicked man—when his warship arrived in Vladivostok this summer, he exploited its exemption from customs inspections to smuggle in vast quantities of opium, selling it everywhere to make a fortune. They knew full well... but his methods were so cunning and they couldn’t get solid evidence, so there was nothing they could do.”
“...Then that bastard Young, having completely looked down on Vladivostok’s police, this time bribed his sailors or something to haul over a dozen women each onto the warship—planning to sell them off in Shanghai or some such market... But once the warship went offshore, since there was a chance their superiors might discover it, every last one got thrown into the sea—and that was still Young’s doing... And with you being the sole survivor among them, you’re one hell of an important witness.”
“We want to avenge your dozen or so comrades—so you’d better pull yourself together and give us an answer quickly.”
“We’ll give you as much reward money as you want—just tell us the truth... What exactly did that Young say to deceive you?”
“How were you taken into the ship?”
“And through what kind of mistake did you end up being thrown into the sea... Asking all sorts of nonsensical things with such seriousness...”

"But I—no matter what—couldn't answer them."
"...Everything you're all saying is lies."
"Young isn't that terrible a man."
"I wanted to tell them only that ship's commander was wicked—but I couldn't explain why... Because for a full week after coming to my senses, I was deathly afraid—utterly terrified—of speaking."
"I simply couldn't shake that terror—even saying 'Yes' or 'No' made me feel so frightened—so horribly frightened—I couldn't bear it."
"When I forced myself to speak, my teeth would clatter until I nearly vomited... With no choice, I played mute—just blinking wildly—until even the police finally gave up and stopped coming."

……But after being left completely alone like that, whenever I tried to doze off, those feelings from that time would immediately take shape as dreams, leaving me drenched in sweat as I thrashed desperately in bed. In my half-awake state, I’d gnaw through the sheets and send the hot-water bottle flying with my kicks. The sheer terror of it defied description. “And then, just as those dreams were ending, Young’s sorrowful, quiet voice would always come clearly from nowhere, making me burst into sobs.” Even after waking, I’d lie there wide-eyed, staring endlessly at the dark ceiling while turning those words’ meaning over and over in my mind.

Before long, after about ten days had passed, the frostbite turned out lighter than I'd feared, and the wire marks became fragmented enough to fade where makeup could hide them.
"As my body regained its former strength and I managed to speak again, I couldn't just stay in bed anymore—so I gathered my courage and returned to the dance hall... and soon after, you came to visit, didn't you?"

“That—strange when you think about it—is truly strange beyond words, you know. I can only think that meeting you was God’s doing, you know. Because ever since that night—the night I first met you—I’ve completely stopped having those terrifying dreams, you know. What’s more, compared to before, I’ve turned into a regular chatterbox as if reborn… And then, as you’ve grown unbearably dear to me, the true meaning of all those words Young used to say—I feel like I’ve come to understand them anew, deeply, one by one. And I’ve become utterly unable to resist wanting to show you all the games Young taught me. But I can’t stand ordinary games of hitting or choking anymore… I’ve become so unbearably, unbearably fond of you that I feel I must end this by either killing you or… or I simply can’t bear it any longer.”

“……I’ve barely managed to endure it until today.”
“Because I thought that if I—even in the slightest—brought up such a topic, you might get startled and run away.”
“……But when it came to tonight—this very night—I simply couldn’t hold back any longer.”

“Today too, since before sunset as always, I entered this room, finished cleaning, and lit the pechka.
After thoroughly finishing my makeup, I waited for you while drinking last night’s leftover liquor—and before long, the room grew quietly dark.
The snow patches on the neighboring roof and the stars glaring above them were the only things coming into clear view—I’d completely fallen back into that same mood from that night… so unbearably suffocating—suffocating…
‘Oh… Don’t fall asleep. …I said don’t sleep and listen to me… How awful.’
‘You’re really drunk… even as I’m pouring my heart out…’”

“……Right…… You understand now, don’t you…… You must understand too.”
“These feelings of mine… you see… I’m not saying this because I’m drunk… it’s a good thing… right? Right.”
“That’s why I’ve finally resolved to truly kill you tonight—I specially bought this dagger for it.”
“They call it England’s finest—here.”
“Just look… how sharp it is… see how my arm hairs… shiver at its touch… there.”
“Isn’t it splendid?”
“It’s a good thing.”
“…With this blade’s tip, I’ll pierce your heart with a chilling thrust, then plunge that bloodied steel deep into my own heart to end it all… A most exquisite heart-to-heart kiss it’ll be.”
“The grandest luxury Young taught me… A once-in-a-lifetime…”

"Oh! I just now remembered."
"In Japanese, they call this kind of game lovers' suicide, right? Right?"

“……Come on.”
“Give me a real answer.”
“Don’t sleep…”
“I said come on! Come on!”
“……Fine.”
“I don’t care if you’re asleep… I’ll just plunge it in like this… Good thing…?”
“Right… You’ll die for me, won’t you… Right… It’s a good thing… Even killing you… makes me happy… So… A farewell toast… Right… Then we’ll go to bed… Come on…”