Pathway to Japanese Literature

By an Unknown Assailant DETECTIVE DRAMA KING STABBED TO DEATH ORPHANED ACTRESS AMAKAWA KUREHA WEEPS AND SWEARS REVENGE A Grotesque Tragedy Pregnant with Secrets

Mr. Todoroki Kuzō (44) of Sannō XXX-chōme, Ōmori Ward—famous as owner of the Kurehabashi Theater (a Secessionist-style five-story modern building towering at the Mejikushi crossroads along Tokyo's Kurehabashi tram line), Japan's first producer of detective-horror plays, and guardian of contemporary rare femme fatale actress Miss Amakawa Kureha—had attended Norway's imperial birthday celebration at their embassy in a private capacity on the third day of last month (August, Shōwa year X). After returning to his equally Secessionist-style residence built on high ground at Sannō XXX-chōme, Ōmori, he worked until midnight in his study adjoining the entrance hall and parlor. There, in the swivel chair before his desk, he was discovered around 10 o'clock this morning having been fatally stabbed through the heart from the front with the sharp British-made double-edged paper knife he customarily used at his desk. Upon receiving the emergency report, over a dozen personnel—including Prosecutor Kaihara from Tokyo District Court, Examining Magistrate Atami, Chief Toyama of the First Search Division of the Metropolitan Police Department’s Identification Unit, and Assistant Inspector Watanuki, Judicial Supervisor from Ōmori Police Station along with police physicians—were dispatched to the scene to conduct investigations. However, despite Miss Amakawa Kureha—who had rushed to the corpse’s side first upon the report by the housemaid and discoverer Ichiko Ichida of the same household—wailing and swearing revenge, the culprit remained elusive. The investigation is currently being conducted with full force, using the mansion as its headquarters.

Incidentally, Mr. Todoroki Kuzō's registered domicile was listed as Hase 203, Kamakura Town, Kanagawa Prefecture; however, not a single person in the vicinity knew anything about his former identity. Around Taisho 10 (1921), he had begun traveling through various regions with a three- or four-year-old girl—now known as Miss Amakawa Kureha, born Amagi Mitsue (19; registered at ××××-banchi, Mitsuke Town, Iwata District, Shizuoka Prefecture)—before moving to Tokyo. There he ventured into stock trading and swiftly amassed an immense fortune. During this time, as Miss Mitsue grew into a renowned beauty whom he cherished like a jewel in his palm, Kuzō built her a modest yet luxurious residence in Ōmori where they lived together. Accompanying her nearly daily to various theatrical performances, he himself developed an interest in theatrical productions. In spring of Shōwa 5 (1930), when the Kurehabashi Theater fell victim to economic downturn and bankruptcy, he readily followed manager Mr. Kasa Keinosuke’s advice to acquire it. He organized a troupe starring actress Amakawa Kureha—formerly known as Miss Amagi Mitsue—and installed rising detective novelist Mr. Ema Chōsaku in a corner of his mansion, entrusting him entirely with the theater’s scripts. Though intending to replicate Paris’ Grand Guignol Theater with detective-themed grotesque plays, they saw only three or four initial successes before utterly failing to gain traction thereafter—appearing to have already wearied general audiences despite retaining support from a small faction of devoted fans. As a result, he had lost most of his fortune and was still struggling desperately when this tragic incident befell him—and with it, all causes behind the crime were sealed away into the depths of secrecy. Of course, there appeared to be no will or similar document, and while the inheritance—including theater rights—would likely go to Miss Amakawa Kureha, the pitiful young lady had lost a guardian who was like a father to her, becoming an utterly helpless orphan cast adrift, thereby garnering widespread public sympathy.

A Worthy Rival Lost

Danbara, the Entertainment King: Remarks "How unexpected." "What a tragic affair." "For me, it was like losing my only worthy rival." "Not at all—" "He was no mere amateur-turned-professional." "To refine that genre of theater to such perfection isn't something any ordinary talent could achieve." "I'd privately doffed my hat to him." "By nature, Mr. Todoroki possessed a rugged vigor and self-assurance quite unlike a typical wealthy man—even during his stockbroking days, he'd been renowned as an indomitable spirit of unbreakable resolve." "When he entered theatrical production—a business rife with rough elements—he'd personally confront every gangster's threat through methods worthy of chivalric tales. A man of unrelenting fortitude... What a terrible loss." "Miss Amakawa Kureha's artistry?" "That's true genius." "There's not another soul like her." "Above all else, we mustn't let those productions cease." "They exist only in France and Japan, you see." "They might well be called Greater Tokyo's proudest achievement..." "..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Around 4:00 PM on August 4th, in the extravagantly luxurious reception room of the Todoroki residence’s entrance hall—nestled within a corner of Ōmori Sannō where oak thickets glistened under clear skies and poplar groves enveloped the grounds—two police officers smoking what appeared to be hospitality MCC cigarettes while poring over this evening paper article seemed to finish reading simultaneously and looked up. Both were officers from the Ōmori Police Station; one was Inomura—a portly man with a spiky chestnut-shaped head. A large, portly bearded man whose uniform strained at the seams—a mark of veteran status. Seated facing him was Officer Fuzuki—a pale, emaciated rookie whose ill-fitting uniform hung off him like rags. Though his abundant hair was neatly parted, his nervous disposition showed as he picked up the evening paper he’d just discarded moments earlier and began meticulously rereading it from the beginning.

Inomura Police Officer smirked wryly upon seeing the young officer’s fervent attitude. He scratched vigorously at his unshaven beard covering his jaw, peeked briefly at his wristwatch, then leaned back in the ill-fitting damask-covered armchair and let out a prolonged yawn.

“Tsk... We announced this as the investigation headquarters, but not a single newspaper reporter has shown up.” “It’s about time they come to collect the morning edition’s article, don’t you think?” “The Judicial Supervisor said we’d make this look like headquarters to drive off those pesky reporters—since they’re too much of a nuisance to handle—and that’s why he sent me here. But looks like they caught on, eh? These newspaper men these days got sharp instincts, I tell ya.”

“The Judicial Supervisor must regard this case as being of considerable importance.” “Of course it’s serious. Given who the victim was, they’re convinced there’s a profoundly deep secret behind this case.” “Given that, isn’t the newspaper article’s main text rather too simplistic?” “Nah. We haven’t let even a whiff of such airs reach the reporters. Since those meddlers pried into unnecessary business last time, we’re feeding them absolute secrecy now. A few quick-eared fellows who came here had to scurry back without digging up anything more—what with the evening edition’s deadline looming. But considering that, they’ve investigated thoroughly enough. Seems there’s plenty here we could stand to learn from, eh?”

“Huh? So aside from what's in this newspaper article, they haven't figured anything else out?” “Don’t be daft. We’ve still got plenty of major secrets up our sleeves.”

Officer Fuzuki’s eyes glistened.

“Um… Well… I-I was just summoned on emergency, so I don’t know anything yet. The moment I arrived, the station chief told me I could already return, so to be honest, I just followed you here flustered as I was—” “How ’bout I show ya... the scene...” “Yes... Please...”

“You mustn’t breathe a word of this. To anyone…”

“Yes... I’ll be careful.” “Making unnecessary assumptions and taking arbitrary actions is something you mustn’t do.” “Yes… Essentially… I should just keep pretending not to know, then?” “……Hmm… Rookies don’t know the investigative procedures and techniques we’ve honed over the years—they either stubbornly cling to nonsense logic or blindly charge about smashing things to bits.” “Come here now.” “This case is dull as ditchwater—lazing around like this ain’t gettin’ us nowhere.” “I’ll show you for future reference.”

“Thank you very much.” The two of them, still unarmed, stealthily exited the reception room and entered Mr. Todoroki’s private quarters at the far end of the adjoining corridor. True to its grandeur, the approximately thirty-three square meter room—with windows facing east and south and walls on the other two sides—contained furnishings befitting the building’s exterior: a curved mahogany desk, a new-style wooden desk telephone, a seaside-umbrella-shaped electric lamp, a square wooden-framed wall clock with winding mechanism, a frame housing a futurist nude giant statue, a silk-corded electric fan, and white linen curtains draping a wooden carved bed embedded in the wall, all arranged in layered opulence. Beyond these, through the immaculately polished thick flint glass windows, countless overlapping oak leaves in their verdant glory caught the full force of the afternoon sun, glaring fiercely into the room. The vigorous chirping of cicadas was muffled by the thick, luxurious window glass, reaching only faintly from afar, and thanks to the thick walls, the heat was scarcely felt. The eerie atmosphere wrought by cutting-edge modern science pierced through and filled every corner of the room.

“It’s quite cool inside this house, isn’t it?” “There must be an air conditioning system somewhere… Now, look here.” "The victim was sitting in the large swivel chair in front of this desk." “This.” “As you can see, there’s a bit of blood on the back of the chair, right?” “It appears that while Mr. Todoroki Kuzō was working late at his desk last night, the assailant grabbed him from behind and stabbed him straight through the heart with a forceful thrust.”

“Quite a skillful job they did there.”

“Seeing as they didn’t use a pistol, the criminal might’ve had some shady business gnawing at ’em, I tell ya.” “Well...” “What do you suppose?” “Anyway, they’re no ordinary crook, I tell ya." “Since they knew exactly where to strike, I tell ya.” “The murder weapon...”

"The murder weapon's been confiscated by the station now, but like the papers said, it's that sharp, razor-thin double-edged knife that was on this desk." "I saw it still stuck in the corpse with my own eyes, I tell ya." "It went clean through from under the left breast straight out the back." "Look here—see this little mark where the blade went in? Right there in the blood clot's shadow, I tell ya." "Ain't the stab wound too vicious?" "Course it is, I tell ya." "Even some hardened criminal couldn't drive it this deep in a sneak attack, I tell ya." "And that corpse's face—pure shock frozen right in it, and..."

“Huh? Does the expression from when someone’s killed really stay on the corpse? They often write about that in detective novels.” “As if! From my experience, the expression at death fades gradually—after an hour, there’s nothing left.” He jabbed a thumb at the chair. “What I saw was Mr. Todoroki’s face completely slack—eyes half-closed, mouth hanging open as he slumped forward peering under the desk.” Inomura’s voice grew technical. “I’m talking about the limbs’ expression. That startled shock when he grabbed at empty air—frozen rigid like that, propped up by the chair’s armrest.” A dry chuckle escaped him. “Showed it to the press after laying him out on that bed over there.”

“What about the fingerprints on the knife…” “There weren’t any, I tell ya. The criminal seems to have worn gloves, I tell ya. But more importantly, there were larger footprints. They’ve already been wiped away, but came in through that north-facing window on the far left over there, I tell ya. Now, around here last night, there was lightning followed by a heavy downpour starting just before two o’clock that lasted about an hour, but those footprints show no signs of having been wet from the rain. Since the footprints are covered in dust, this means we can infer their owner entered through that window between approximately half past midnight and ten to two. Now, those footprints were also quite peculiar, so we all studied them in various ways. In conclusion, they must have been made by slipping rubber bags resembling automobile tubes snugly over tabi shoes or something similar, then tightly wrapping them with what appears to be sturdy hemp thread into a rather clumsy, large exterior. And we’ve concluded they must’ve prepared those in the darkness at the corner of this house—inferred from the hemp thread scraps found there… I tell ya.”

“That’s not much of a clue.” “Well then—” “No way, I tell ya.” “They’re usually items tossed out in suburban trash heaps or such places.” “Shows they put real thought into it.” “Breaking into the big boss of detective dramas’ place and all.” “Ha ha ha...”

“The first to discover it was the housemaid... Um... what’s-her-name...” “That’d be Ichida Ichiko.” “Just a slip of a girl—seventeen or eighteen.” “Wasn’t she bowin’ to us earlier? Didn’t notice? Hmm.” “Claims it happened past ten-thirty this mornin’, but timin’s fuzzy.” “Part of her duties—came knockin’ on Master Todoroki’s door to wake him. Pounded away, called out—no answer.” “Got spooked by the unnatural quiet. Borrowed a spare key from Matsui Yone—kitchen maid—and opened up. Took one look inside, gasped ‘Ah!’, slammed it shut again, then clung white-knuckled to the handle as she dropped like a sack.” “Yone here”—he jerked a thumb—“patched her up proper. When she peeked in herself? Let out a scream you could hear in Yokohama.” “And this weren’t no delicate faint.” “Ran upstairs screechin’ like a banshee to tell that actress Amakawa Kureha... Truth behind them newspaper lies, I tell ya.”

“And then that scene where Amakawa Kureha was crying and vowing revenge… Please elaborate on that.”

“Ah.” “Oh, that?” “That account came from Matsui—the current kitchen maid—with some of the newspapers’ usual sensationalism mixed in.” “First off, they say Miss Kureha didn’t even shed a tear.” “Huh? She didn’t cry?” “She didn’t cry.” “Yeah.” “It was such an utterly dramatic scene that Matsui Yoneko—who stood watching nearby—nearly fainted on the spot, they say…… At that very moment, Miss Amakawa Kureha happened to be in her second-floor room dressed in full formal attire for going out. Upon hearing Yoneko’s report, she gently closed her eyes and listened through to the end without so much as a twitch of her brow.” “Then she turned as pale as a ghost, rose quietly, descended the stairs soundlessly, and—stepping gently over the still-collapsed Ichida Ichiko—vanished into Mr. Todoroki’s parlor.” “Afterwards, when Matsui Yoneko—who had clung closely and entered, fearing Miss Kureha might faint again—Miss Kureha approached the corpse without even glancing back. She quietly compared, over and over, the hilt of the dagger embedded in the blood-soaked white vest with Mr. Todoroki’s deathly visage……”

“That’s incredible.”

“Yeah. “Now that’s a detective drama actress for you, I tell ya.” “She can project to the back rows, I tell ya.” “You can’t be serious...” “Then she followed the path of those strange footprints with her gaze—from beneath her own feet all the way to the window where they’d entered—and hunched her shoulders reverently as if seeing off the departing spirit of Mr. Todoroki, lowering her head slightly in a show of respect, I tell ya.” “Huh.” “That’s somewhat odd.”

“Now listen here. Then with firm steps, she retreated two or three paces backward until directly facing Mr. Todoroki’s corpse, clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and prayed in these words—her voice extremely quiet yet enunciated with perfect clarity. ‘……Mr. Todoroki… I was mistaken……’ ‘I was mistaken…’ ‘Hmm… “This vengeance… I will surely exact with my own hands…” …’ After saying just that, she bowed once more with utmost reverence, then glanced at Matsui Yoneko standing beside her. In an ordinary voice: ‘You. Please inform Manager Mr. Kasa and the Ōmori Police Station. You can have your meal later…’ Amidst these words, she smiled a lonely, faint smile.”

“Whaaat?!” “She’s quite a formidable woman. And still so young…” “And still so young…” “Ha ha ha.” “Impressed, are you?” “I must say, that’s quite impressive…” “First of all—could she have seen through the truth of the crime in just that brief moment?” “If she can make such claims, then she must have her own conclusions without needing to rely on the police...” “Ahaha. What are you talking about... This is her handiwork.” “It’s a publicity stunt, I tell ya.” “Publicity stunt… What do you mean?”

“Pfft. You gotta know more about how the world works.” “Those in the acting profession are no different from diet members, I tell ya.” “No matter how unnatural an opportunity they grab, their instinct’s to keep pushing their name.” “They can’t get enough publicity just from stage or parliament.” “That ‘never rise empty-handed from a fall’ instinct’s bred into ’em—the ones with it strongest make names for themselves.”

“I’m shocked. Are they truly that cruel?” “Facts speak louder than theories. There’s no way Amakawa Kureha would let such a golden opportunity slip by. And sure enough—the newspapermen have swallowed Miss Kureha’s performance whole, writing articles that make it seem like Mr. Todoroki was killed just to fuel her publicity campaign. But we police officers mustn’t let ourselves be dazzled by such theatrics and lines, I tell ya. This ain’t some penny dreadful detective novel—if you start factoring in Miss Amakawa Kureha’s prayer-like words where she’s playing at being some master sleuth, you’re bound to make a catastrophic mistake. Nobody’s gonna take that seriously.”

“I see… Understood.” “However, even so, there still seem to be many things we don’t understand.” “Go ahead and ask anything.” “Since I was at the scene, I can answer anything I know right away.” “First of all… you see.” “How could the victim not have noticed when the criminal opened that window and entered…” “Hmm. “Exactly… that’s the most crucial real-world issue here, I tell ya.” “At the same time, both the judicial chief and prosecutor are scratching their heads over it.” “As you saw yourself—those window latches use twist-in brass rods, and around that window frame there’s not a single fingerprint besides Mr. Todoroki’s.” “What’s downright strange is how those prints only appear on that particular window—layered thick and messy like paste.” “Unless we imagine some exceptionally peculiar… that is to say, hypothesize an extremely rare circumstance—there’s simply no way to explain it.”

“Huh? Could it be that Mr. Todoroki forgot to lock them after checking the weather or something?” “Not a chance,” Inomura countered. “The victim was obsessively cautious in daily life—when ordering the maid to bring water before bed, he’d make her secure every latch, then personally verify them afterward with military precision.” “Then are you suggesting,” Fuzuki’s voice tightened, “someone in the household opened it and let the perpetrator in?”

“In other words, that’s precisely how it must’ve happened… and the reason is none other than this. In the top right drawer of this desk was a pistol—an old-fashioned nickel-plated five-shot revolver, likely bought long ago as the latest model during the Meiji era. There were about a hundred unused bullets too, and since there’s evidence they were maintained daily, it’s clear the victim, Mr. Todoroki, had been gripped by paranoia about threats for ages, I tell ya. If we suppose he’d incurred someone’s grudge, then not only would that resentment be as old as the pistol itself, but you can imagine it was so severe it needed daily tending. Now then—if the person Mr. Todoroki feared made him open that window himself to let them in, yet he didn’t have his pistol ready and even undid the fastenings to usher them inside… then that individual must’ve been someone truly terrifying to him, I tell ya.”

“Could there truly exist a person in this world with such fearsome coercive power? If it was someone who might kill him, wouldn’t that make it all the more reason for the victim to have known?” “That’s the point, I tell ya. That’s where there’s this vague yet glaring contradiction, you see. Both the prosecutor and the judicial chief seemed to be struggling quite a bit, but before long, that contradiction was resolved.”

“Oh… How did that happen?” “Don’t you get it, I tell ya?” “I simply can’t comprehend it at all.” "I can only see this as a horrifying case that defies all imagination.” “This is...” “Nah, it wasn’t that big of a case after all, I tell ya.” “Huh? How did you figure it out?”

“When we checked all the drawers of that desk, a threatening letter came out from the bottom right one.” “Hmm. How many letters were found?” “Well… there was just one, I tell ya.” “I didn’t look closely myself, but when I peeked over the judicial chief’s shoulder, it was written on a regular sealed postcard in this clumsy, scrawling hand—all scattered-like, I tell ya.” “The address simply read ‘Ōmori Sannō, Mr. Todoroki Kuzō,’ with no sender’s details or date to speak of, and the postmark was too smudged to make out clearly, I tell ya.” “It was good for a time, but lately the postal service’s work has gotten downright sloppy, I tell ya.” “The judicial chief was absolutely livid, I tell ya.” “He said they’d report it to the authorities and have them investigate every post office nationwide with unclear postmarks, I tell ya, but…”

“What kind of things were written inside?”

“It just had this written: ‘March 7, Taishō 10 (1921)... This isn’t some play... and...’” “March 7, Taishō 10 (1921)... This isn’t some play...” “Mm. That’s right, I tell ya. Then we called in that girl—whatever she really is, since everyone treats her as his daughter—Amagami Mie, also known as Miss Amakawa Kureha, and showed her the threatening letter. But she swore she’d never seen this handwriting style before. She didn’t grasp the meaning of the words or what they referred to. Claims she’s got no memory of any such letter ever arriving before, I tell ya.”

“I see… So you wanted to broach Miss Kureha’s earlier prayer incantation?” “To make her divulge something useful…” “The judicial chief did mention it briefly, I tell ya.” “Right when Detective Umehara—interrogatin’ the maid—gave his preliminary report on that matter… Then bam!… ‘That was just me spoutin’ nonsense in my frustration! What could a foolish woman like me possibly know?’” “‘As for prayin’ toward where the criminal fled—well, foreign plays use this superstition that makin’ distant criminals jittery causes ’em to blunder… So I did that silly thing…’ she stammered, face turnin’ scarlet.” “So the whole purpose was publicity, I tell ya.” “Can’t fault ’em too harshly—it’s in their blood.” “The judicial chief and prosecutor both wore wry smiles, I tell ya.”

“Is that all?” “No… Then Miss Kureha started saying such things.” “...She couldn’t state it clearly, but she thought Todoroki had been acting restless these past four or five days.” “No matter how dire the circumstances had been until now, whenever he saw me, he would immediately smile and strike up a conversation, but lately he had shown no such inclination.” “He would put on a tense, gloomy, nervous expression, and whenever I tried to say something, he would just blink rapidly and retreat to his room.” “Of course, I cannot comprehend the cause,” she said, “but all of Todoroki’s theater-related and financial affairs are managed single-handedly by Mr. Kasa Keinosuke, the manager of Kurehabashi Theater.” “As for March 7, Taishō 10 (1921), I was only three years old at the time, so I have no memory of anything from that period.” “I was taken in by Todoroki at the age of three due to certain circumstances involving my elderly parents, and over these past twenty years until now, Todoroki has endured various hardships to raise me while remaining single—though I know nothing of the details,” she skillfully dodged.

“Isn’t there something she’s hiding?”

“It appears there is none of that.” “Generally speaking, theater owners led rather complicated lives, but putting together what Miss Kureha, the maids, and manager Kasa Keinosuke had said revealed this victim to be an exceptionally unique case.” “Mr. Todoroki Kuzō maintained a remarkably simple daily routine.” “Testimonies confirmed he absolutely never engaged in irregularities—no affairs with theater actresses or visits to pleasure quarters.” “A lifelong bachelor whose sole joy seemed to lie in promoting his foster daughter Mie as detective drama’s greatest star.”

“Huh.” “That’s interesting.” “Could such an abnormal life between a man and woman alone continue without any hidden sides?” “Ahaha.” “You’re quite the suspicious one, ain’t ya?” “Well, come over here.” “Let’s take our time talkin’, I tell ya.”

The two once again returned to the reception room and, as if by prior agreement, grabbed MCC once more.

“This is some good cigarette, I tell ya.” “I wonder if one stick costs about as much as salmon roe...” “Wouldn’t that run about twenty sen, I tell ya?” “Nah. “It wouldn’t cost that much.” “Twenty sen would get you two cigars from that.”

The two began exhaling cobalt-colored smoke in alternation.

“You’re suspecting a sexual relationship between Amakawa Kureha and Todoroki Kuzō, aren’t you, I tell ya?”

Patrolman Fuzuki instantly turned red, but he smiled and nodded as he was.

“Hahaha.” “You’re not one to be underestimated either, I tell ya…” “So… does that mean… there’s something after all?” “But as it stands now, there’s nothing suspicious about it, I tell ya.” “I believe we must suspect them fully… nay, thoroughly enough.” “For all we know, the heart of this case may well lie there.” “Your esteemed opinion holds merit… but listen close now, I tell ya.” “Here’s how it goes.” “To explain their daily lives… this combines both maids’ testimonies… First each morning at nine, Miss Kureha rises first to bathe.” “Quite early for an actress, that.” “Then she spends near an hour at her toilette, changes kimono, and emerges.”

“Don’t the maids help with anything?”

“Yeah. Not only doesn’t she let them help, but she locks the bathroom door tight so no one can get in. The story goes that Miss Kureha knows some secret makeup method you could call the Amakawa style, and this is her precaution to keep others from stealing it, I tell ya…” “That’s the maids’ account, isn’t it?” “That’s right… On the other hand, if we let Miss Amakawa Kureha tell it, ‘I would rather die than have others see my skin. If anyone tried to force their way in to see me, I’d kill myself right now…’ By the time she said this, she was already contorting her face like a hysteric and making her eyebrows twitch. Hahaha.”

“What she says is rather extreme,” Fuzuki observed. “Might she have some tattoo concealed on her body?” “Could be...” Inomura drawled. “But when you see Miss Kureha emerging from her bath—no matter how often—her beauty strikes like a thunderclap. Those thick eyebrows lush enough to vanish into her hairline. Eyelashes clustered thick like a foreigner’s. Eyes large as a French doll’s with sharply upturned corners—pupils blacker than midnight, whites gleaming with an uncanny blue clarity.” He paused, tobacco smoke curling between them. “All framed by makeup the color of a corpse’s bruises—bluish-black shading to violet—while those diamond-shaped lips glisten with iridescent crimson like some Japanese lacquerware...”

“Hahaha.” “That’s quite detailed, I tell ya.”

“The maids said that... Oh, I almost forgot, I tell ya. They say her nose is exquisite. Not even the noses of stage lords could compare to such a splendid nose. The maids said it was too fine a nose for a woman, I tell ya.” “Hahaha… Being women themselves, they’d observe in such detail, I tell ya.” “They say she styles that nearly four-shaku-long hair—must be around four feet—into all sorts of traditional Japanese updos, but when a hairdresser tries to handle it, there’s so much hair left over they can’t manage. Looks like she does it herself after all, I tell ya.”

"So then, an hour for bathing isn't long. Rather, it's almost too short, I'd say." "Given that Kureha's a quick-change artist, she apparently handles things quite swiftly." She would layer a blazing crimson underkimono with a blackish gauze long-sleeved kimono, cinch a silver obi tightly around her waist, and glide soundlessly from the bathhouse in snow-white felt sandals—so grotesque, so terrifying in her beauty that she resembled some serpent spirit slithering out from behind a gravestone. "They call her a horror actress, but even meeting her in broad daylight would send shivers down your spine... Hahaha... Though of course, that's just my personal impression, I tell ya..."

“I’d like to see that. Well... I’ve never actually encountered a woman of that type outside my imagination.” “Hahaha. She’ll be back soon enough, so you should take your time looking, I tell ya. But you mustn’t go falling in love now, I tell ya.” “Excuse me for asking… does she not wear Western clothing?”

“Hmm.” “It seems she does wear Western-style clothing occasionally—those outfits being rather old-fashioned with large hats and long sleeves that don’t show any skin—and they say it suits her quite well indeed.” “Huh.” “Now that makes me wonder—does Miss Kureha emerge from the bathhouse already in full ceremonial dress?” “Seems that way.” “How peculiar.” “That would mean she doesn’t possess what you might call everyday clothes.” “So…she doesn’t change outfits after going out…like regular women do…”

“Hahaha.” “You’re quite the detail-oriented one, I tell ya.” “Being a devoted reader of detective novels makes you notice such odd particulars, I tell ya.” “Our investigation hasn’t reached that far yet, I tell ya.”

“That’s a shame, I must say. That might be the most crucial, pivotal point of all, yet…” “Now then, do listen to the rest of the story, I tell ya. Then around ten o’clock, when Miss Kureha emerged from the bathhouse, the maid went to wake Master Todoroki Kuzō—but that man was no ordinary late riser and simply wouldn’t get up. After finally rousing him and getting him into the bath, breakfast would be served shortly. Then around noon or one o’clock, theater manager Kasa Keinosuke would come over, and the three of them would gather to discuss business while drinking black tea or hot lemon. At times the three of them would kick off heated debates, but it seems Miss Kureha’s opinions usually prevailed.”

“What sort of man is this manager, Mr. Kasa?” “He’s a huge, ruddy-faced man—nearly as big as me—full of vigor and in his prime. They say he’s single too, I tell ya.” “It all seems rather complicated, doesn’t it? When all three executives of Kurehabashi Theater are single…” “However, this Kasa fellow’s a notorious carouser, I tell ya. And that belongs to the very lowest class, I tell ya. He only chases after worthless women and frequents places like the sand baths here in Ōmori, so naturally he’s become a familiar face among our lot, I tell ya. When we conducted inspections, he’d greet us with a casual ‘Well, if it isn’t you guys,’ I tell ya. Hahaha. He’s quite the character when you talk to him, I tell ya. Anyone meeting him at the theater for the first time would mistake this man for the theater owner Todoroki—that’s how impressive his presence is, I tell ya.” “When he arrived and they finished discussing that day’s business, from around one or two o’clock they would sometimes go together to the theater or newspaper offices, and other times go separately. They usually returned around midnight, sometimes arriving separately and sometimes together. The early ones took their baths first and had a light supper.” “Manager Kasa would always drink beer until he was slightly tipsy, then call an automobile to return to his Marunouchi apartment—or so it’s said—though I’m not sure.” “Among the remaining two, Master Todoroki slept on a cot in the corner of the office.” “Miss Kureha slept in a separate room on the second floor, but at that time she would firmly lock her bedroom door and then slide in an additional bolt from above, making it impossible for anyone to open no matter who came.” “Though apparently she takes sleeping pills right before bed, I tell ya.”

“As for Mr. Todoroki…” “It seems Miss Kureha made it her habit to write letters or do some work for about thirty minutes to an hour after saying ‘Goodnight,’ and she would always change into a yukata at that time.” “And then she apparently takes some kind of medicine before going to bed as well, I tell ya.” “So nothing unusual happened that day either, I take it?”

“No.” “There was something, I tell ya.” “Moreover, there was just one strange thing, I tell ya.” “Something a bit mysterious…”

“Huh.” “When you say ‘mysterious’…”

“That’s what’s interesting about it. The housemaids in this house have been fixed at just two since its construction—from the very day it was built.” “Despite appearances, this house isn’t as spacious as one might think.” “The house has barely four proper rooms to speak of, and everything’s laid out in a remarkably convenient way… Now, the longest-serving one here—since the day the place was built—is that Matsui Yoneko I just mentioned: a twenty-six-year-old ugly woman with a sturdy physique.” She was a hard worker from the countryside who handled everything from cleaning inside and outside the house to tending the flowerbeds all by herself, albeit somewhat roughly. Moreover, she seemed to harbor an intense curiosity about Todoroki Kuzō and Amakawa Kureha’s sexual relations, going so far as to openly declare before us that she absolutely wouldn’t leave her position until she got to the bottom of it—a truly remarkable woman. She apparently came from some village with particularly unsavory customs and maintained a knowing demeanor about all matters, yet regrettably hadn’t uncovered a single concrete fact about their relationship; thus it seemed she was channeling those frustrations typical of unmarried women her age entirely into this one issue. When it came to this particular issue, if you pressed even slightly, she immediately started blabbering nonstop without any restraint. “They’re by no means an ordinary parent and child…!” she fervently insisted.

“That’s quite fascinating.” “However, there’s now another one named Ichida Ichiko—also straight from the sticks—who just turned eighteen this year, I tell ya.” “So here’s this girl at the height of curiosity—having barely arrived the day before yesterday—getting an earful about all this from senior maid Yoneko.” “Then when she first laid eyes on Miss Kureha proper, she got such a shock from that beauty that Miss Kureha’s image burned into her retinas like one of those star photo cards.” “When she pulled the bedding over her head, it kept flickering behind her eyelids and left her wide awake...”

“Ha ha ha! That’s quite the vivid description, isn’t it? I tell ya.” “No. This is no laughing matter. That girl confessed it herself. Last night at the far end of the corridor opposite the maids’ room door, when she heard the parlor door clatter open from her futon—she jolted awake instinctively—sat up—peered through her keyhole—and saw him standing there fully dressed.” “The master wore that same black morning coat and striped trousers she’d brushed clean earlier—the very clothes we found on his corpse this morning.” “But there was more—a flash of red moving behind him through that doorway.” “She thought she saw some great serpent flicking its crimson tongue—gasped—pulled her bedding over her head—but later realized what she glimpsed must’ve been Miss Kureha’s long-sleeved kimono and that gauzy underrobe sleeve.” “…Claims she heard their room clock strike two through her quilts while cowering there.”

“Ah... This is a significant implication, isn’t it? That would be...”

“A hint? What do you mean by ‘hint,’ I tell ya?” “No. It’s not exactly a hint, but shouldn’t we consider that as evidence that Mr. Todoroki Kuzō and Miss Amakawa Kureha were in that office until so late?”

“So are you saying Amakawa Kureha killed Todoroki Kuzō? With just that fact…” “No. Such a ghost story-like theory doesn’t hold in this case, but whether these strange rubber tube footprints we’ve just discovered entered when Miss Kureha and Mr. Kuzō were together, or came and went before or after them—determining which sequence occurred will prove crucial to solving this case.”

“Hmm. “Naturally follows.” “But if we take that the footprint owner came and left before two o’clock, as per the account...” “There’s no trace of them returning after the rain began?” “Hmm. None.” “Then assuming Miss Kureha was present around two o’clock, either way after two she alone remained by Mr. Todoroki’s side.” “Thus whoever killed Mr. Todoroki—who was lively until about two—must absolutely have been none other than Miss Kureha...”

“Ha ha ha ha!”

“No.”

“Great detective, oh great detective.” “That’s right, that’s right.” “Your logic’s air-tight... but that’s precisely where detective novels and real cases diverge.” “Meaning you’re overdoing this ‘great detective’ act.” “...Overdoing it...?” “You’re overcomplicating things.” “We’ve already identified our prime suspect.” “Quit fixating on some sleep-addled brat’s delusions—stick to practical thinking.” “Practical thinking being...?”

“Now listen,” “Here’s how it is.” “Miss Kureha naturally insists she has absolutely no recollection of ever waking at such midnight hours, dressing in formal attire, and entering Mr. Kuzō’s room even once.” “That’s only natural.” “That maid Ichida Ichiko—come to think of it now—seems to have started doubting her own eyes.” “‘That might’ve been a dream I saw while drowsy…’ Now she’s begun spouting all sorts of vague things…”

“She might say that.” “If someone were to carelessly testify about that, there’s no telling what Miss Kureha might do to them afterward.”

“You.” “Imagination’s dangerous here.” “We need to base our thinking on testimony with proper foundations…” “Is that all?” “Anything unusual…” “Ah... There’s one more slightly odd thing.” “It’s nothing significant, but it’s perfect material to complicate your signature imagination.” “To put it plainly... This morning, Miss Kureha apparently woke up about an hour later than usual.” “This also comes from Ichida Ichiko’s testimony.”

“Hm. This truly can’t be ignored now.” “Mhm. Miss Kureha, who normally wakes up precisely at nine without needing the maids’ help, apparently didn’t rise until around nine-thirty this morning—which made maids Yone and Ichi exchange glances. Thinking something might be wrong, they both went to wake her, but she seemed dead asleep. After frantically banging on the door and shouting, they finally roused her, though she got up grudgingly. Throwing on her pure white habutae-silk pajamas, she kept muttering about having taken too much sleeping powder last night as she went to bathe.”

“Hmm... I can’t make sense of it.”

As he was saying this, Patrolman Fuzuki threw his body onto the desk before him and planted both elbows. He clasped his head firmly and let out a sigh as he spoke. “I’ve gotten completely lost.” “What’s there not to get… eh?”

"...If that's true, then Miss Kureha didn't kill Mr. Kuzō after all. The one who left those mysterious footprints—the person who'd been threatening Mr. Kuzō—they're the real killer." "Hoh," Inomura snorted. "Quite the brilliant deduction. And how exactly would you know that?" The young patrolman's pale forehead glistened with sweat. Staring vacantly into space, he spoke in a hollow voice as though possessed. "Miss Kureha's working with them... She overslept on purpose this morning—to give the real killer time to escape before we discovered the crime..."

“BWAHAHAHA! No no no. Even a great detective like you shouldn’t get so jumpy over nothing. This world’s got coincidences and plain old paranoia both. Pull yourself together. Ahahaha...”

Patrolman Fuzuki blinked his eyes as if his dream had been blown away and looked at Patrolman Inomura’s face. Returning to his senses, he began meticulously smoothing down his hair. "But... that is the truth..." “Oh yeah. Of course it’s a fact. Moreover, it’s a well-established fact. Since there’s an even more significant fact than that, Miss Kureha’s oversleeping isn’t even worth discussing.” "What fact?" "The manager Kasa Keinosuke we just talked about—that Manager Kasa had rushed over by car from his Marunouchi apartment upon receiving a call from the kitchen maid Yone, arriving just before noon today. Then, while we were examining the master’s corpse and other items under our supervision, we noticed a checkbook lying discarded on the desk. Upon examining it, we discovered that he had given someone a ¥2,000 check from Horibata Bank dated yesterday. Just in case, we checked with Horibata Bank—and that was this morning: as soon as they opened, there was someone who came to withdraw two thousand yen." "He was a distinguished gentleman wearing a sheer silk haori and hakama ensemble with an imported Panama hat—a dark-complexioned, tall man with a heavily-built frame and two square adhesive patches about an inch across pasted between his eyebrows and on his nose tip. The clerk initially took him for a judo instructor given his composure throughout the transaction—not uttering a single word from entry to exit—his seemingly casual movements brimming with tension while maintaining an ever-alert demeanor." "Furthermore," continued Inomura, "he wore new felt zori sandals and carried an equally new high-quality rattan cane."

“Are you saying that’s the culprit?” “Of course that’s the case.” “Upon hearing this report, Manager Kasa requested that the check be wrapped in paper to preserve it untouched, then promptly informed us of the matter.” “He’s quite an astute man, isn’t he?” “Mhm.” “Amateurs these days can’t afford to be careless.” “In other words, after sending the threatening letter to Mr. Todoroki Kuzō, the culprit forced open the window and entered while Mr. Kuzō was waiting in the office as agreed.” “Then he made him write a ¥2,000 check, killed him with a surprise stab out of fear of future repercussions, received the money before the crime was discovered, and vanished without a trace—that’s how it went down.” “In other words, the culprit—who was well aware that Mr. Kuzō… or rather, the Todoroki household—slept later than most people, likely thought it safe to boldly go collect the money early in the morning.” “It may seem like nothing, but those adhesive patches—about an inch square—stuck between the eyebrows and on the tip of the nose turned out to be a remarkably simple yet terrifyingly effective disguise technique when studied afterward.” “Only someone thoroughly seasoned could devise such a trick.” “You should try experimentin’ with ’em yourself later—just by changin’ how and where you stick them adhesive patches, even the same fella’ll look like a whole different person.” “Moreover, if he were to roll his shoulders like an athlete walkin’ around, nobody’d doubt he was anythin’ but a judo instructor.”

“Are there any fingerprints on that check?” “There should be plenty of ’em.” “Still under investigation, but that check oughta have at least three sets—the house master who wrote it, the culprit who took it, and the bank clerk’s.” “Fella who came to the bank wasn’t wearin’ gloves.” “Manager Kasa’s all humble ’n bow-scrapin’, but gotta say—everyone was mighty impressed how sharp he turned out when it mattered.”

“...By the way... where are the manager and the actress Kureha now?”

“The culprit’s stars had aligned and cleared him of suspicion, so they immediately came to Omori Police Station, obtained the chief’s approval, and then both of them happily hurried straight to Kurehabashi Theater—must’ve been around two-thirty.” “They say the theater’s survival hangs in the balance right now.” “They say that once this article comes out in the evening edition, it might pique the entire capital’s curiosity and make the theater a hit.” “They both left in quite a rush.”

“That does seem rather callous of them. Though... they do say theater folk are the most cold-hearted of all walks of life... Anyone seeing this evening edition would naturally assume tonight’s performance was canceled...”

“That’s not something you can know for sure. The audience crowd’s an even more cold-blooded, curiosity-driven breed than theater people, y’know.” “She said—with eyes burning red—that since Mr. Todoroki’s spirit must surely linger in that theater, keeping today’s performance going would be the least act of devotion.” “Miss Kureha was...”

“What are they performing now?” “Don’t know what they’re staging… Ah! Right—we left tickets at Omori Police Station... They’d mentioned something about ‘New Yotsuya Ghost Story’...” “Huh.” “So all that remains is apprehending the culprit then?” “Exactly. Must be one hell of an operator.” “Which leaves us with lingering questions...” “What questions could possibly remain?”

“No. This is just my own speculation, but... The first is the psychological state of the victim, Mr. Todoroki Kuzō, when he let the culprit in...” “That’s something we’ll know once we interrogate the culprit, ain’t it?” “The second is the state of non-resistance and shock evident on the corpse…” “I wouldn’t call it non-resistance.”

“But in fact, we know there was no resistance.” “In such situations, expressions of non-resistance and shock can manifest simultaneously—they might even be interpreted as conveying the same meaning.” “Moreover, doesn’t this sentiment of the victim toward the culprit gain multiple layers of corroboration from the fact that he admitted the culprit without retrieving the pistol from the desk drawer?” “Couldn’t we reasonably imagine that the victim himself had discerned—and wholly believed—that the culprit harbored no murderous intent toward him?”

“Hmm.” “Now that you mention it, that line of thinking isn’t impossible.” “You’ve got one hell of a brain there, ain’t ya?”

“W-well... that’s not quite what I meant... And then there’s the secret regarding Miss Kureha’s actions—her being in the master’s room around two o’clock on the night of the incident...” “...Ah... That’s completely unreliable,” “As I’ve said many times, Ichida Ichiko’s testimony is unreliable because…” “It became unreliable afterward, didn’t it?” “Therefore, doesn’t it take on an even more precise significance?” “You’re being rather harsh, aren’t you?” “Feels like I’m the one gettin’ interrogated here.” “Ha ha ha... Oh no,” “That’s not what I meant… The remaining point is estimating Mr. Todoroki Kuzō’s time of death.” “Last night around what time was it…”

“Ha ha ha. “If it’s after two o’clock, you’re dead set on slapping cuffs on Miss Kureha... You...” “I believe that would be more accurate.”

The color had drained from Patrolman Fuzuki’s face. With a smile as though ice had been pressed to his spine, he brought a trembling match to his third MCC cigarette. Patrolman Inomura, who had been gazing at this agitation with apparent relish, leisurely wrapped his hairy hands behind his head. "But we already know the time of death." “When I called Sakki Main Station, they said a notification had come from the university about an hour ago.”

“Wh... What time was it?”

“The time of death was between 3:30 and 4:30 this morning.”

The match and cigarette fell from Patrolman Fuzuki’s hand. He kept his eyes fixed on Patrolman Inomura’s face as his lips trembled. “Ha ha ha. You look positively shocked. Ha ha ha. If we let novel and newspaper readers have their say, arresting the actress would probably make for a more dramatic and entertaining story. That’s not how it works. There’s some sort of significant secret between the culprit and Mr. Todoroki Kuzō. So, if we suppose that the culprit—after initially leaving—returned fearing Mr. Todoroki Kuzō would report him, then committed the crime at the estimated time before leaving again—how’s that sound? Wouldn’t this make for a detective novel? Ha ha ha ha…”

Ridiculed, Patrolman Fuzuki picked up the cigarette that had fallen with evident dissatisfaction, then crossed his arms and sank back into the chair. He stared at the air before his eyes and muttered as if in a dream. (Detective novels... As fiction... As fact... The whole thing feels somehow riddled with errors and dangerously precarious.) (The real culprit might be someone else entirely...)

“This is troublesome... You too… You’re the type who can’t be satisfied unless every little thing gets tangled up like some labyrinthine mess. The culprit’s gotta be somewhere unexpected for you to rest easy, huh...” “Yes. Since I’m off duty today anyway—having asked to come along for field observation and been kind enough to be brought here—I thought I’d take my time examining things from every possible angle...” “You’re overthinkin’ it... Facts’re simpler.”

“How can it be that simple?” “The culprit’s already confessed.” “Gah! He’s already been caught…? The culprit…” “Didn’t you know?” “That was quick… How splendid…”

“Ha ha ha. Surprised? Though I must say, I was a bit startled myself. He was caught just past noon today at Ueno Station. Apparently he’d been carrying carpenter’s tools—when they tried to apprehend him for acting suspiciously, he tossed them aside in an instant and dashed into the station grounds. The bastard kept pulling ahead with unbelievable speed, trying to shake off his pursuers by vaulting over an incoming train using his quick legs—only to get his foot caught in the locomotive’s lifeguard and snap it clean. Unlucky sod. This was before the wanted bulletin had even circulated. Maybe Miss Kureha’s prayers actually worked… Ha ha ha… Then the judicial officer from Omori Station who’d called about the situation rushed over—turned out to be that infamous Seiban Kozō, still carrying every last yen from Horibata Bank. They scrambled to check the check and fingerprints from forensics. A manhunt so fast you’d miss it if you blinked. Enough to flip every newspaper in the capital upside down. Apparently he was a notorious murderous robber who terrorized Shizuoka through Shin’etsu about ten years back.”

“...Murderous robber...” “That’s right. When they dragged the bastard over to Omori Station injured like that, he readily spilled his guts: ‘Indeed, I killed Todoroki Kuzō. Since I knew about that bastard’s past misdeeds concerning the actress Amakawa Kureha’s personal affairs, I met him there around half past one last night and made him write a ¥2,000 check before leaving. But given how generous he’d been, I started worrying he might rat me out. So this time, I called via automatic telephone, ordered him to wait, went back, thoroughly scoped out the situation, had him unlock the front door properly, made him line up the slippers for me, went upstairs, and while sitting face-to-face with Kuzō discussing all sorts of trivial matters—well, his eyes started looking dangerous to me. So I took him down with my signature quickdraw surprise attack.’ ‘I think that was right around 3:30.’ ‘Then I just jumped out the window… My deepest apologies…’”

“...Whaaat...?” “Ha ha ha. “Convinced now?” “Ha ha ha.” “He offered no further complaints.” “We were somewhat troubled when he clammed up after saying he’d dutifully ‘pay his dues’ without protest.” “He just stiffened and shook his head about any old relationship with Todoroki Kuzō… But from explaining the crime scene to demonstrating how he killed him—not a single detail was off, huh?” “The bastard seems to have completely resigned himself after getting his ankle—the tool of his trade—done in.”

“Even so, he’s terrifyingly nonchalant about it. Even though he might lose his head…” “Among murderous robbers, you know, there are sometimes guys with that casual type of disposition. We even had Miss Kureha and Manager Kasa—who happened to be present—confront him directly, but neither seemed to recognize him at all. All the culprit did was bow his head twice to Miss Kureha, muttering ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ leaving us investigators with nothing useful to go on.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Nothing much. Since we’ve got our suspect caught and confessing, there’s nothing left for the police to do. We sent back all those folks called up in the emergency mobilization—same as you—as they kept dribbling in. Manager Kasa and Miss Kureha heard the judicial officer’s explanation too, then went off to the theater looking downright pleased. And that’s that.” “Ha ha ha ha…”

“What in the world… I mean…”

Inomura Police Officer stood up with a loud laugh. He circled behind Patrolman Fuzuki and delivered a solid thump to the back of his baggy uniform.

“Ha ha ha. You’re such a fool… You shouldn’t get so obsessed with detective novels.” Patrolman Fuzuki turned crimson all the way to his neck. With moistened eyes, he earnestly defended himself.

“W-well... Th-this is my hobby.” “W-well... I-I... The primary reason I became a police officer was because I read detective novels obsessively.”

“Nonsense. Detective novels—those things ain’t worth a damn thing in the real world. As living proof, detective novelists are completely useless when you put ’em to practical use. They can’t catch a single criminal unless it’s one they dreamed up themselves—ain’t that right?…”

Patrolman Fuzuki let out a deep, regretful sigh. In a meditative, somewhat affected pose, he exhaled MCC smoke.

“Ah... I’ve been beaten to the punch.”

“Ah ha… Well done.” “Well, you went and let the culprit slip away after all, huh?” “Heh heh heh...”

“You really are mean-spirited, you know. If you’d just told me that sooner, I wouldn’t have had to rack my brains like this...” “Did you really rack your brains that much?” “...I couldn’t help but feel something was off. Manager Kasa and Miss Kureha went off to the theater without a shred of suspicion ever being cast on them.”

“Of course they did. By that time, they might’ve already taken the culprit’s fingerprints.” “Huh. So then…”

Patrolman Fuzuki made a strange face and looked around restlessly. “When you declared this was the investigation headquarters—” “Nah, that was a lie. Since you’re a detective novel nut who ain’t never had any real fieldwork, I just ran a little test on you. I happened to be off duty today—Manager Kasa asked me to keep watch here, so I made that promise. Figured you’d get bored stiff, so I tricked you into coming along. So? Did ya have fun?”

“Ah... Boring...” “Ha ha! Don’t get so worked up. Dinner’ll be ready soon enough. When Miss Kureha gets back, you ought to take a good look at her. Make a nice souvenir for the wife.” “...My apologies... I’m not actually married.” “Oh ho! That so? My mistake then. Perfect timing—after we eat, I’ll show you a proper stunner of a beauty.” “Huh? There’s more beauties here? In this house...?”

“No. “Not this house though. “Just across this backyard. “He’s the screenwriter for Kurehabashi Theater. “There’s this Ema what’s-his-name—an ugly mug of a man—living there with his sister.”

“Ah! Is Ema Chōsaku here? In a place like this…” “What’s this. You know that man…?” “Anyone who reads detective novels knows that guy. He appears quite intellectual but—being an extremely ugly man, a bumbling fool and first-rate hothead who boasts of his physical strength—he often crops up in gossip. I hadn’t heard he was involved with theater, but he’s notorious for taking those trivial detective novels of his—full of hackneyed rural plots—and somehow relentlessly pushing them on publishers. Reading that guy’s novels is nowhere near as grotesquely entertaining as staring at his mug in photographs—”

“Don’t you know about his sister?” “I didn’t even know he had a sister.” “Now this sister—they’re actual siblings no doubt—is a music school alumna of considerable talent, quite the refined beauty unlike her brother.” “They say the late Mr. Todoroki bankrolled both siblings’ education as their patron, but the connection between that sister and Mr. Todoroki seems downright fishy.” “Ah—” “Enough with these shady tales—cut it out.” “I’ve had my fill.”

“No. This has nothing to do with the current case—it’s a completely different story. According to Matsui Yone’s account, it seems that thanks to Mr. Todoroki’s fondness for that singer, even her brother ended up under his care.” “What a loudmouth. That kitchen maid...”

“Oh. Speaking of maids—that current housemaid Ichida Ichiko’s got a naive little face you could trample right over. Want me to introduce you? She’ll be bringing tea any moment now…”

“No.” “I’m quite alright.” “I’m leaving.” “Oh, come on now.” “Do take your time.” “Do you hate women?” “As long as I have detective novels, I need no women.” “You shouldn’t say such things.” “Just take a look.” “At that pretty face…” “No.” “I’m leaving.” “I mustn’t overstay my welcome…” “Ahahahaha.” “This fellow’s hopeless…”

It was exactly at that moment.

In the secret lounge on the fifth floor of Kurehabashi Theater, Miss Kureha herself and Manager Kasa were seated facing each other.

The so-called secret lounge was nothing more than a roughly two-ken-square space partitioned in a corner of the fifth-floor attic warehouse—normally used for storing theater props—with tattered gold screens and riverside backdrops. Dust-covered prop sofas and warped rattan chairs lined the area, spread with new dressing room cushions. Near the linoleum floor and semicircular window sat a bone-dry potted withered narcissus. Under the dim glow of a bare light bulb, facing these backdrops and screens, it created an eerily dreadful atmosphere of utter desolation—the sort of place where you might imminently expect some giant one-eyed goblin’s head to come rolling out from the shadows with a… Wah…

However, even for actress Kureha, this room felt far more calming than the glamorous dressing rooms, and her mind seemed to find rest here. While the theater itself never achieved great popularity, her personal fame so far surpassed that of actresses nationwide that her third-floor dressing room couldn’t accommodate the flood of visitors, compelling her to often retreat to this secret room in the storage corner for respite.

Manager Kasa in his frock coat sat rigidly on a warped rattan chair with considerable tension in his demeanor. In contrast, she sat carelessly disheveled in nothing but an ostentatious stage yukata with a single red narrow obi, her flesh-toned undergarment exposed at the collar as she sprawled on the nearby sofa—appearing thoroughly bored with the conversation—having removed a large antique coral hairpin to scratch beneath the white base of her large marumage chignon. “Well then, Miss Kureha. “There’s no special relationship between you and Mr. Todoroki, correct?” “Beyond an ordinary relationship…”

Kureha didn’t so much as glance his way. “Think whatever you like… Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” “Why must you persist in asking such things?” “Such trivial matters—” “It’s not trivial.” “There’s a deeper reason behind this… That… That…” “Just say it plainly.” “The curtain’s about to rise for the next act.” “The next act is… you see.” “Miss Kureha, isn’t your scene simply appearing as you are now to be stabbed by Mr. Teramoto Chōji’s spear?” “There’s still twenty-four or twenty-five minutes left.”

“Yes. But that’s my time. It’s not time reserved for you.” “You’re being terribly harsh tonight... If I go downstairs now, there’s a whole swarm of journalists lying in wait. It seems the police have announced the arrest of the culprit. I simply cannot handle this alone. If it’s not you—” “The journalists aren’t half as bothersome. Compared to your questions...” “You shouldn’t speak so harshly. That’s precisely why we must discuss this thoroughly... This matter bears grave implications for this theater’s very survival. It’s no exaggeration to say the theater’s fate hinges entirely on your response.”

"I detest people who put on airs..." "Now listen... You mustn't let yourself be shocked." "That's none of your concern... Whether I'm shocked or not... Out with it already." "Well then I'll say it... You..." "I'm the one who..." "Lately every night after the maids retire... You've been forcing your way into Mr. Todoroki's quarters declaring you want to marry him—over and over—haven't you?... Hahaha... Well?... You're astonished, aren't you?..."

Kureha rapidly lost all color, becoming as pale as a glass bottle. She jerked upright into formal seiza directly facing Manager Kasa, clamping her lips until they whitened as she glared. The slightly bluish-tinged makeup for the next act became even more strikingly vivid. A hoarse voice said in fragments. "...How... do you... know that?" Manager Kasa seemed struck by the ghostly beauty radiating from his counterpart. The greasy-faced man suddenly lost the sheen from his oily complexion and lifted his hips while clasping his trembling hands together.

“Th-that... I heard it... from Mr. Todoroki.” “Four or five days... ago.” “Mr. Todoroki seemed overwhelmed with deliberation and spoke to me about this matter twice.” “It was when I was left alone with Mr. Todoroki in the theater’s basement dining hall.”

Kureha nodded deeply. The vigor seemed to drain away slightly. “So it wasn’t you who uncovered this?”

“That’s correct. “I heard it directly from Mr. Todoroki. “Kureha intends to abandon me and get married. “But I absolutely have no intention of running this theater while disregarding Kureha. “Kureha’s marriage would be a fatal blow to me. “‘I would never allow Kureha’s marriage, no matter what happens...’ That’s what he told me.” “.........” “And then yesterday, when we went out by car together, he said it again... ‘That Kureha intends to marry some outrageous nobody.’ “‘If she marries that bastard... even I’ll be ruined.’ “‘It’ll expose both Kureha and me to lifelong shame.’ “‘Tonight he’ll smash your hopes straight down to the very bottom.’ “‘Even if he has to kill you, he intends to ensure you never harbor such hopes again...’ He was in a highly agitated state, you see.”

Kureha sank into the chair as though physically struck by Manager Kasa’s words. She hunched her shoulders and released a shuddering sigh that seemed to rise from her very core, never lifting her gaze from the floor. “Just who is this person you claim to want to marry?” “I wish to hear it directly from your lips—who exactly is it?... Should they prove sufficiently intriguing, I might even deign to offer my counsel.”

“……………” Manager Kasa inadvertently let out a sly grin upon properly witnessing his opponent’s distressed state. He likely wanted to lean forward with his cheek propped on his hand, but lacking a table, resignedly crossed his arms and sharply reclined instead. He intensified his threats against Kureha, clearly savoring the thrill of victory. "...You can’t bring yourself to say it, can you?" "In this matter... heh heh heh." "But I know full well." "Heh heh heh." "Hiding it won’t work... Whether he was your father... or a complete stranger—I don’t know—but Mr. Todoroki Kuzō left behind such a riddle at that time." "The person Kureha intends to marry was so utterly unexpected that I was completely bowled over." "None other than that scriptwriter Ema Chōsaku’s sister Midori." "In other words—what you call homosexuality—that Kureha harbors such profound love for that woman." "Lately, I’ve been exhausted from work every night—my mind muddled beyond thought—and just when I’m at my limit, that Kureha drags in another outrageous, absurd problem. Now I’m at my wit’s end and thought to consult you... that is, myself... but really, what in blazes should I do? That Kureha seems to have inherited her wretched painter father’s obstinacy since childhood—always been an eccentric oddball. And on top of that, being forced to perform nothing but those plays lately has apparently warped her disposition clean down to the depths of perversion." "'If I could just live with Miss Midori and be called ‘sister’ daily, I wouldn’t mind dying now.'" "'Grant me this, and I shall be reborn! I’ll produce ever more spectacular plays—work myself ragged directing them—and make Kurehabashi Theater’s profits triple... no, quintuple!'" "'...and secure Miss Midori and her brother’s study abroad... If I must keep enduring these days performing nothing but inhumanely grandiose plays without joy, I’ll surely go mad.'" "'Even now during performances, I sometimes feel like silently sinking my teeth into the actors’ throats around me—but if I truly bit them, would that be permissible?... I heard you made such a terrifying demand of Mr. Todoroki.'"

“……………” "I still know a great many things." “Mr. Todoroki had been saying for a long time.” “Mr. Todoroki picked up those Midori siblings—vagrants he found during his travels—and had the brother graduate from the Western Painting Department of an art school, and the sister from the Vocal Music Department of a music school. But while the brother’s paintings were hopelessly incompetent, driving him to switch careers to third-rate scriptwriting, Midori the sister—though she has a somewhat melancholic face with freckles that makes her rather inconspicuous—is upon closer inspection a classical Latin-type beauty with an ideal soprano voice." "However, when she fully projects that soprano voice of hers, an innate vagabond melancholy seeps through." "Like an endless spring field, an indescribably distant, distant sadness rises fully—a wound, if you can call it that." "In Japan today, such classical voices aren’t popular, but if she went to the West, she’d be a huge hit." "I’ve been looking forward to sending that girl abroad for study—letting her live in that corner of the house garden and grow close with you, Kureha—but though brother and sister share exactly the same facial features down to the last detail, how could such an extreme disparity between beauty and ugliness exist? The more I look, the more inexplicably strange it seems." "Of course he thought the brother was hideously ugly and therefore no threat—so he let his guard down—but then that Kureha went and started pouring her homosexual affections toward the sister instead! He was utterly flabbergasted... or so he claimed. But I suppose all of this is true, isn’t it?" “Heh heh heh.”

“………”

Kureha managed a faint nod. Manager Kasa also nodded heavily and leaned forward. “Just who do you want to marry?” “Can’t you state it clearly?” “At this point...”

“……………” “Well... well... isn’t it the scriptwriter Ema Chōsaku?”

“……………” "I had thought you were becoming far too familiar with that man…" As Manager Kasa’s attitude and tone grew increasingly assertive, Kureha collapsed further into the sofa. Manager Kasa looked down at the pitiful sight of Kureha slumped over—her large snow-white chignon, long tresses, and snow-pale nape drooped heavily—and grew increasingly emboldened. As he leaned forward to press his point, Kureha suddenly raised her stark white face. She arched her eyebrows sharply and snapped back.

“Th-that’s vile! Th-that… that bastard…” “But… but…”

Manager Kasa lost his composure. While barely managing to counter Kureha’s enraged demeanor as she heaved breaths through her shoulders, he imitated her by gasping for air. "But... but... you... always sneaking around behind your master’s back... with that playwright..." “Th-that… that was merely to explain the next play’s plot to that mediocre playwright.” "How significant could some secret about the play’s storyline possibly be? Surely even you must understand that." “Wh-who would ever… with such a pimpled bastard…”

As she spoke, Kureha’s excitement visibly subsided and she stretched both legs out onto the sofa as before. This time, she seemed deep in thought, her demeanor shifting to something stiff and wooden. There was something unnaturally deliberate about this shift, yet Manager Kasa appeared satisfied. Having regained his usual composed intensity, he fixed his gaze on Kureha’s profile. “Then what is it? “It’s not that you killed Mr. Todoroki in a fit of rage after he rejected your marriage proposal, is it?”

Kureha sluggishly shrugged her shoulders in apparent displeasure and sighed. “How rude of you. Honestly.” “No matter how long you keep harping on it, it’s always the same thing… You’re unbearably persistent.” “We just went to Ōmori Police Station together moments ago and met the criminal, didn’t we?” “Yes. That’s precisely why I’m saying this.” “I couldn’t help but notice that the way the criminal looked up at you was far from ordinary.” “Even as you both kept insisting you didn’t know each other—when you saw him streaming with tears and bowing his head in apology—didn’t you quietly wipe your own tears after getting into the car?”

“Hoho. “Oh, I simply couldn’t help feeling sympathy for him.” “The criminal might have been in love with me at some point.” “That’s part of being an actress, hoho... Come to think of it, the way he looked up at you was so full of bitter resentment—it was terrifying!” “There seemed to be some deep grudge there, you know.” “While we kept insisting we didn’t know each other...” “...No such thing...” “So I’m saying there’s no such thing either.” “Th-that... that’s preposterous...”

"That won't do. From the very start... your accusations have been nothing but baseless fabrications from beginning to end!" "It's no fabrication. To put it plainly—your talk of wanting marriage was merely a threat tactic against Mr. Todoroki. It wasn't your true feelings at all, was it?" "Is that what you believe?" There was an unexpected sincerity in Kureha's bearing as she spoke. Manager Kasa heaved a thick sigh. "Yes... I wish to believe that. I must believe that."

“Hohoho. You’re quite the amusing one… How could that possibly have anything to do with this theater’s fate?” “It has everything to do with it.”

Manager Kasa suddenly straightened up with renewed vigor. With a gallant air, he leaned halfway forward and surveyed Kureha’s supple form from head to toe. "You’ve already endured considerable hardships yourself, you know." “Well... what do you think...?” "Miss Kureha... Let me speak frankly."

“Yes. Please…” “Will you marry me?”

Kureha, as though anticipating this, remained turned to the side and sneered faintly at the corner of her lips. As that chillingly quiet sneer—so intensely beautiful it defied description—began to intensify the water-like beauty that suffused her entire being, Manager Kasa desperately bit his lip to suppress a sob about to escape. With the earnestness of one convinced this was the pivotal moment of his life, he leaned even further forward, his face—in the prime of manhood, taut with vigor—lit up.

“You know... “You understand, don’t you? My feelings are... If you reject me now, I will no longer feel like staying in this theater. I’ve grown sick to death of all this theater-connected living and detective dramas. Would you say I’ve come to recognize my destiny? I’ve become desperate to try living a calmer life—something properly settled and human.”

“……………” “However... if you were to grant me new life, that would be a different matter.” Kureha nodded faintly. She kept her eyes closed in silence…

“You know…” “You understand, don’t you?” “Such feelings of mine…”

Kureha nodded even more distinctly.

“Yes. I understand all too well.” “You know... “So... so... I...” Manager Kasa turned pale, then red. Trying not to display the unsightly physique of a middle-aged man that often appears in such scenes, he restlessly rubbed and untangled his hands.

“Yes. I will consider it. “Being an actress is such a precarious and fleeting trade, you see.” “Huh? “Then… you’ll… consent…?” “Wa—wait a moment… Th—there’s a condition. “I’m… not some naive child, you know.” Kureha raised a hand to block Manager Kasa, who looked ready to pounce on her at any moment. Manager Kasa reluctantly settled into a seat while looking around the empty room.

“Th-that condition you mentioned...” “Like this. “Please listen carefully.” “It’s a good thing…” “Yes. “No matter how difficult the condition…” “It’s not such a difficult condition, you know. “Goodness... Even if you and I were to be together, keeping this theater’s popularity as it is now would be pointless, wouldn’t it?” “Frankly speaking, that’s how it is, don’t you think?” “The Todoroki family’s assets don’t have even a scrap left… And even though you’ve saved up quite a bit yourself, your extravagant indulgences make it clear as day how limited that must be.”

Manager Kasa turned bright red instantly. He rubbed his palm round and round over his steaming, flushed face.

“Gah! This... if you’re glaring at me that intensely...” “So you see... Even I’m not entirely ignorant of the world. I’ve no desire to willingly choose to wallow in the mud, you know.” “That’s precisely why I’m telling you.” “Just wait a little longer, please...” “What good will waiting do?”

“Listen. “As for me... I haven’t a shred of lingering attachment to this theater or detective dramas.” “After all, Mr. Todoroki and I have struggled together like this for so many years... I want to try raising one final banner as at least a memento.” “Hmm. “One final banner…”

“It’s like this… today is August 4th, a Sunday, you see.” “Therefore, from today until the evening of the first Saturday next month—September 7th—I want you to suspend all theater performances for a full month and entrust all the troupe members entirely to me.” “I won’t cause you any trouble with expenses whatsoever, you see.” “I will take those actors to some unknown place and have them rehearse the script I’ve prepared.” “The one you’ve been keeping…”

“Yes. That’s right. In that case, I have one guaranteed once-in-a-lifetime masterpiece of a script prepared, you see. After conducting that script reading and thoroughly rehearsing, we’ll return to promote on a grand scale—my retirement performance, the final showing of Kurehabashi Theater’s signature horror play, and a memorial performance for theater owner Mr. Todoroki Kuzō. If we keep running shows from around September 7th when the heat begins to wane, I’m certain we’ll retain considerable net profits, you see.” “Well… I wonder.”

“No. It will definitely succeed, you see. What’s more, this play’s plot is an unprecedented fact-exposing detective horror drama without equal in the world...” “Fact-exposing... detective horror drama...” “Exactly. You see, it’s a plot that lays bare every secret of my life... So potent that even this case’s culprit would surely be compelled to confess some dreadful truth still unknown to anyone who watches it... Not that I mean to boast... Hohoho...”

She appeared thoroughly exhilarated. With her porcelain-white cheeks burning like fire and obsidian-black eyes gleaming with uncanny passion, she undulated her body toward him. Overwhelmed by this unbearably intoxicating allure that left him dizzy, the manager began faltering anew. He let out thick sigh after thick sigh as if to avoid being consumed by her white-hot artistic fervor. He retorted hurriedly, mopping his sweat with a handkerchief.

“D... what kind of plot...” “That’s… Hohoho… I think it’s better not to tell you yet. In any case, I won’t cause you any trouble at all, so from now until after September 7th, why don’t you go to a hot spring or somewhere and refresh yourself for the first time in ages? Since it’s just a single month during that time, you absolutely must forget about me the entire period. Otherwise, I will refuse all future consultations with you. Is that clear? I will handle all the work myself, so…”

“Can you manage it...?” “Once wouldn’t pose an issue.” “It’s but a small theater… Merely following our standard procedures.” “Even if swindled, the losses would be negligible at best.”

“Do you have the funds?”

“There’s plenty.” “Enough to spare…” “How unexpected... Where on earth...” “Where it’s kept doesn’t matter… In any case, you’re just a guest this time.” “I can give you two or three invitation tickets… Hohoho… You can bring along some widow lady and her daughter from Kobe or whoever.” “Th-that’s absurd!” “That’s right. “This is no joke.” "I'm serious... I... don't wish to relinquish my virginity until then, you see." “Sh... sh-shoujo...”

“Oh, what a face you’re making. Are you suggesting that I’m not a virgin? How very rude of you.” “N-no. Th... that’s absolutely not what I meant...” “Then listen obediently to what I have to say. And since it’s already time, please leave this room…”

On the night of the incident—August 4th—Kurehabashi Theater saw an abysmal turnout. Those who saw that evening’s paper all seemed to have anticipated an inevitable closure, as even the regular patrons who formed the daily guaranteed income numbered less than half. When they displayed a standing notice board before the final act reading, "Due to the sudden death of theater owner Mr. Todoroki Kuzō, we will be suspending performances for one month henceforth to handle arrangements at our discretion," someone even had the audacity to applaud. “Ah, so this play too is ending here?” Some even lingered to glance back reluctantly at the illustrated billboard out front.

At that moment, star actress Amakawa Kureha sat facing playwright Ema Chōsaku on the second floor of Alps—a mountain lodge-style coffee shop in the backstreets of Ginza. Dressed in all-white Western attire, Kureha sat rigidly like a medieval queen... Chōsaku in his tuxedo perched like a servant on a bamboo stool, a massive tree stump placed between them. In the shadow of an electric lamp mimicking a sooty shop counter lantern, a shabby man in a newsboy cap sat facing away, noiselessly sucking his straw—the only other patron present. After sweeping her eyes around the room, Kureha propped her elbows on the stump table and brought her face close to Chōsaku's ear. Chōsaku tilted his shaggy head with equal intensity. A hushed voice began whispering fitfully through the space between them, its fragments dissolving into the stagnant air.

“Mr. Ema.” “Is that understood?” “This concerns my lifelong secret.” “A tale that shall lay bare every reason behind Mr. Todoroki’s murder.”

“Wh-what?! Y-you mean... there's still... another secret like that?” “Yes. It’s an extremely significant secret. Since I want you to dramatize this secret by the 15th of this month for me to star in myself by early next month, do listen with that intention, please.” “Y-yes... Understood.” “But here’s the thing. The content of this story would make for quite a sensational play, so you must write a performance script that’s as thoroughly sanitized as possible while maintaining a plausible plot for submission to the Metropolitan Police Department. If they suspend our performances, it won’t just mean a huge financial loss. My plans would be thrown into complete disarray, you see. You must write it in a way that will definitely get it approved, please. Of course, you must not set it in Japan. Present it as an adaptation of some Western work or whatever, attach a plausible-sounding original author’s name or something, and just credit it as ‘Dramatized by Ema Chōsaku’ or along those lines. I’ll leave all the nuances of that entirely up to you.”

“U-understood…” “Once it’s ready, please pass it immediately to our legal advisor, Mr. Sakuraima…” “Can’t it be the manager?” “Yes. Please do as I say… I now understand why Mr. Kasa won’t do.” “And... that story you mentioned is...” “...It’s an old matter already, you see. This story takes place around 1887, you see. It concerns the lineage of a chief retainer to a minor daimyo named Uemura Suruganokami, who held about 150,000 koku in the Kinai region. The youngest son of a man called Amaki Tango was an esteemed painter named Amaki Ryūsen.”

“It seems I’ve heard this somewhere before.” “There should be. “Oh ho.” “It’s said he signed his works under various names like Ryūsen and Ryūkawa, but after the Meiji Restoration, he fell into complete destitution. He sought out a local boss named Todoroki Raikurō in Mitsuke-shuku along the Tōkaidō, who had a house built for him in a quiet area on the outskirts of town where he lived in seclusion.” “He had become quite famous by selling his paintings as far as Shizuoka, Tokyo, Nagoya, and the Keihanshin region, but what he excelled at above all was copying old brocade pictures—secret paintings, cruel prints, grotesque images. By around 1919 or 1920, he’d saved up considerable money and came to live in a small yet exquisitely designed residence.”

“Ah, that reminds me. I have seen that painting. I believe it was the Shijō school...” “You see—there was a girl named Mie, about three or four years old at the time, born to that Ryūsen couple. Being a child born when her father was in his fifties, she was doted on excessively—raised amidst charms against insects, prayers for good fortune, all manner of superstitions—but perhaps those measures proved too effective. That’s how she ended up becoming someone like I am now.”

“That’s quite something, isn’t it?” “Now do listen… Around Taisho 10 [1921], there was a murderous robber who terrorized the regions from Tōkaidō to Shinshu, centered on Shizuoka—a man whose real name was Ishiguri Kota, also called Seiban Kozō. If he fled into the mountains like some wild tribesman, they’d never catch him. They say he earned that name because killing meant nothing to him. This Seiban Kozō had set his sights on Ryūsen’s solitary house… He became absolutely determined to claim it and investigated every angle, but that house of Ryūsen’s stood two or three blocks away from Mitsuke’s residential area—too far for any cries to be heard. Not only that, forests, groves and winding paths connected in all directions, making it bandit-perfect… save for one critical deterrent. From the very start, it was clear the most fearsome guard dog protected Ryūsen’s home… And that ‘guard dog’ turned out to be Boss Todoroki’s family, who ran a construction business in Mitsuke.”

At that time in Mitsuke-shuku, the one who had succeeded Boss Todoroki Raikurō was a young boss named Todoroki Kyūzō, about the same age as Seiban Kozō. However, since this was around Taisho 10 [1921], his group likely no longer held as much power as they once did. Their work likely consisted only of guarding rural banks or serving as security for wealthy farmers. Moreover, this young boss Kyūzō was no ordinary yakuza—a Tokyo Imperial University law graduate who had even obtained his attorney’s license, an intellectual forced reluctantly into yakuza life by his underlings’ insistence. With his newlywed wife—young and beautiful—he kept watch over the highway district. This Kyūzō must have inherited the blood of Boss Raikurō, who once held authority through police batons and arrest ropes. Despite disliking the life of a boss, he proved skilled at intimidating within his territory and capturing criminals—one might say he possessed the disposition of a rural Sherlock Holmes. It was said that even if a slightly skilled thief operated there, locals would inform Boss Kyūzō before notifying the police. Wandering thieves all avoided passing through Boss Todoroki’s territory. If they carelessly attempted any dishonorable work within Boss Kyūzō’s watchful reach, word had it he would intervene before the authorities could, leaving them half-dead. For Seiban Kozō, this Boss Kyūzō’s vigilance terrified him beyond measure—the very first and greatest of his fears.

Thereupon, Seiban Kozō became obstinate and, determined to knock out this young Boss Todoroki no matter what, must have racked his brains devising various schemes. Finally, he devised an ingenious plan... While merely hearing the name "Seiban Kozō" might conjure images of a fearsome brute with sinister features, this reputation stemmed solely from his blade skills and fleet-footedness. In truth, he appeared no different from any ordinary man—presentable enough to spare even an insect, unassuming and affable in demeanor. So convincing was his peddler disguise that none could doubt its authenticity. Therefore, Seiban Kozō took advantage of this by disguising himself as a household medicine peddler from the then-popular Nipponichi Pharmacy. Playing a large harmonium as he wandered through Mitsuke Town, he managed to thoroughly investigate young Boss Todoroki’s surroundings.

...Now, they say young Boss Todoroki’s wife was a farmer’s daughter from a nearby village who—endowed with an ethereal beauty and bold temperament from birth—had been leading a dissolute life until her exasperated parents and a mediator, laying bare their circumstances, pleaded with young Boss Todoroki to take her in. But despite young Boss Todoroki’s standing, this particular matter found no willing takers, leaving everyone in an awkward position. “In that case… Very well… Then I’ll settle this myself.” It’s said he brought her close to his side, reasoning she couldn’t resist recklessly that way, and overruled his underlings’ objections to hold an elaborate wedding ceremony—a decision that became Boss Todoroki’s fatal miscalculation. The young wife’s bold temperament likely sprang from shallow cunning born of girlish vanity. “Once she sensed the young boss’s infatuation,” Kureha continued, “she immediately began scorning her husband. During his absences, she must’ve carried on in ways that set neighborhood tongues wagging.” “When Seiban Kozō uncovered this,” she added with theatrical relish, “he rejoiced utterly.” Boldly clad in Otchini’s gold-braided uniform still, he reportedly intercepted the returning young boss in meadowlands beyond town. “He threatenedly listed every wifely transgression as if privy to them alone,” Kureha narrated, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “‘Apologies,’ he said, ‘but could you overlook matters here awhile? I’ll split the profits with you...’ After mixing honeyed words with steel beneath, wonder of wonders—the young boss turned ashen, pondered silently, then nodded assent.” Originally no willing yakuza—a law-educated man yearning for Tokyo triumphs—Boss Kyūzō found himself shackled by fate just as his beloved wife betrayed him. This dual blow crushed his spirit completely. After parting with Seiban Kozō, Boss Kyūzō went straight to Amagi Ryūsen’s home. “Pardon me,” he entreated, “but since the Hina dolls are stored away now, might I borrow your daughter again briefly?” “I’d like to hold her as we sleep—it’s been too long.” Boss Kyūzō cherished children incongruously for his youth, all Mitsuke’s youngsters clinging to him crying “Uncle! Uncle!” Particularly Ryūsen’s child—perhaps due to his special fondness. The girl had grown as attached as to a blood parent. Since such borrowings happened often before, Ryūsen and his wife gladly changed the child’s kimono, wrapped sweets and bedding in cloth, and handed her over.

...Then the young boss returned home, immediately gathered his underlings, and before their many eyes summoned his young wife and the mediator to briskly declare their separation. Unable to utter a word of protest, the two packed their belongings and slunk back to the countryside. After seeing them off, the young boss... had done something truly inexcusable. “I’ve disgraced not only my own face but all of yours as well.” “Since I have already made up my mind, don’t say anything more on this matter,” he declared, yielding his seat to one of his underlings and commencing the farewell banquet right then and there.

Meanwhile, it was said that at the very break of that dawn, Seiban Kozō had infiltrated the Ryūsen couple’s isolated house, brutally murdered the couple and their maid—three people in total—ransacked the entire home, and fled. Now, whether by misfortune or luck remains unclear, but the money Ryūsen had on hand at that time amounted to mere scraps of leftover pocket change, while passbooks and valuables had been deposited in the vault of Mitsuke Savings Bank located in town. For Seiban Kozō—who adhered strictly to never stealing anything but cash—this must have been an utterly unprofitable endeavor. “However, contrary to that, young Boss Kyūzō had brilliantly—yes, brilliantly—pulled it off.” “He probably utilized the seal left at Ryūsen’s house or something like that.” "Nevertheless, I don’t know how he managed to conceal it, but upon rightfully receiving tens of thousands in assets that should have gone to the daughter along with a substantial life insurance payout, he promptly vanished without a trace."

“You see… You’ve already figured it out, haven’t you? After all, the greatest and most lucrative things the Ryūsen couple left in this world all ended up belonging to young Boss Kyūzō…… Given that Seiban Kozō only learned of this afterward, it’s no wonder he stamped his feet in resentment toward what Todoroki Kuzō had become. Therefore, no matter how cleverly Kuzō tried to conceal himself, Seiban Kozō would inevitably track him down and come to threaten him. He was saying things like, ‘If I get caught, I’ll make sure to drag you down with me,’ or ‘I won’t settle for some half-baked revenge…’ but Kuzō just sneered. His grudge was nothing but blind resentment. I never intended to deceive Seiban Kozō. It’s just that I found you so unbearably adorable that I ended up doing such a thing out of concern for the worst-case scenario.” Of course, Seiban Kozō had no intention of rushing into such work; he planned to settle matters with his wife first—neatly and completely—then warn Ryūsen and make proper arrangements. Thus, the Ryūsen couple ending up as that gruesome tableau must have been fate’s doing.

…The fact that Ryūsen was painting nationally prohibited works was something Tokku had been aware of since his early days. However, no matter how much I warned him, not only did he not stop, but he even began actively selling expensive paintings by leveraging the influence of powerful figures within the prefecture. To tell the truth, I truly came to despise Ryūsen’s shamelessness. “It would’ve been nothing to drive Ryūsen out of Mitsuke—I was simply utterly charmed by your cuteness.” As for what happened afterward—it all followed its natural course. Since none of Ryūsen’s relatives in Yamato Province offered any assistance, there was nothing to be done. “Not only was there no reason for Seiban Kozō to resent me, but I ended up in a position where I had to fight with my life on the line to raise you safely.” “If Seiban Kozō hadn’t known that I’d been hiding in Korea practicing with a pistol, both you and I would’ve been done in by him long ago.”

However, after four or five years had passed, even the tenacious Seiban Kozō seemed to have given up, as the threatening letters stopped coming abruptly. Every time a letter arrived from him, I’d made it a practice to send small amounts of money—so this sudden silence struck me as odd. Perhaps he’d finally realized his grudge was misplaced. “Or maybe I thought he’d died from illness or something. That sudden relief let me truly spread my wings—build this position I hold today. But then, over a decade later, those letters from Seiban Kozō started arriving again out of nowhere.” “And these new ones… they contained implications that could prove fatal for me…”

“Eh… W-w-wait—j-just—a moment!”

Ema Chōsaku’s lips, having turned bone-white, trembled from the overwhelming impact. “Th-that… Is that true too?” “Hohoho… It’s all truth, you know. From the very beginning… more dreadful things await revelation. Starting now…”

"……………"

“Do pull yourself together and listen properly, will you? I’m telling you all this with the intention of having you dramatize it and make it a tremendous success, you know.”

"……………"

“…Those threatening letters were quite simple at first,” she said. “The one that arrived about a week ago was just an ordinary sealed postcard with chicken-scratch writing saying ‘Don’t forget March 7, Taisho 10… This isn’t some play.’ But then two or three more came afterward—properly written in formal script with terribly long passages… Words so dreadful they could be called our fatal wound.” “Wh…wh…what k-kind…”

“Hohoho.” “You’re rather weak-willed, aren’t you?” “There’s no need to turn as pale as paper.” “Oh... W-wait... Boy.” “One whiskey soda… Immediately…”

Ema Chōsaku let out a relieved sigh. He wiped the ashen sweat streaming down his entire face with a handkerchief.

“Hohoho. Calm down and listen properly, will you? There’s nothing scary anymore, I tell you. After all, the culprit’s been caught and it’s all settled now…” “But… but… there’s still room for doubt…” “Eeeeeh. There are still so many more. Even bigger and deeper doubts remain—yet no one has noticed them. It’s a story that reveals the true reason why that knife was plunged into Mr. Todoroki’s heart.” “Wh-what?! So then… the real culprit… someone else…”

“Whether they exist or not—I’ll leave that to your judgment. That’s precisely where this script’s climax lies! Now then… The wording of that lengthy threatening letter goes like this: I’ve properly stored that letter in the secret drawer of my vanity’s mirror stand—you’ll understand when I show you later—Todoroki Kuzō and Amagi Sanegi share no parent-child relationship on the family register. Since the actress Amakawa Kureha isn’t Todoroki Kuzō’s adopted daughter by any measure, this ultimately means he’s been embezzling Amagi Sanegi’s property. Not only that—I’ve recently uncovered that Todoroki Kuzō and Amakawa Kureha maintain a de facto marital relationship. Moreover, this woman Kureha—Sanegi—has been involved with playwright Ema Chōsaku since long ago…”

“Wh—th-that’s preposterous... Th-that’s...” Ema Chōsaku suddenly turned bright red and, with a flailing hand, knocked over the half-finished whiskey soda that had just arrived onto the stump table. The napkin that the waiter had hurriedly tried to use to wipe it up was snatched away by the flustered Chōsaku, who then wiped it himself. “Hohoho. You’re such a fool… There’s no need to deny what’s already clear in front of me… Hoho…”

Chōsaku seemed to have become utterly confused. While wiping his flushed face with a wet napkin, he ordered the waiter to bring more soda. However, the waiter did not laugh; he lowered his posture and respectfully took the napkin away. “...You know. That’s precisely why I’m telling you this—so that you’ll consider it for me. Since you’re always researching such problems, I’m sure if you listen to my story, you’ll instinctively know who the culprit is. The one who killed Todoroki Kuzō is not Seiban Kozō. That manager Kasa Keinosuke…”

“Wh—wh-what did you say… Such a thing…” Ema Chōsaku half-rose from his seat. However, Kureha remained coldly composed.

“I... discovered that today. That Kasa Keinosuke—you see—called me to that fifth-floor lounge during tonight’s intermission. He threatened me by repeating the very contents of the threatening letter I thought no one could possibly know. He cast doubts on my relationship with Mr. Todoroki and yours with me... That’s when I realized—the man they’ve caught isn’t the real Seiban Kozō. He’s a fake Seiban Kozō who’s been made to pocket a fortune—once this goes to trial, he’s sure to retract his testimony. So the true Seiban Kozō... is that manager Kasa Keinosuke...”

“Hmm——” Ema Chōsaku clutched his head and sank back into the chair. He tightly shut his eyes and dug all ten fingernails into his tangled hair until they nearly pierced through. “...You know... such things do happen.” “As I was just saying, after the threatening letters from Seiban Kozō stopped coming, it was around Taisho 14 that Todoroki truly began to flourish, wouldn’t you say?” “Then, since he bought that Kurehabashi Theater in the autumn of Showa 3, there’s a gap of three or four years in between, wouldn’t you say?” “In that time, Seiban Kozō could have easily stopped his criminal activities and even managed to pose as the manager of that Kurehabashi Theater.” “It’s not entirely unthinkable that Seiban Kozō has become so plump and utterly unrecognizable, wouldn’t you say?” “So Seiban Kozō either skillfully ingratiated himself with Mr. Todoroki, or had a decoy Seiban Kozō send threatening letters or something like that to make him purchase that theater, you see.” “And so, while gradually driving that theater’s management into hardship—clipping Mr. Todoroki’s claws and whittling down his bones as he waited—he discerned that I had come of age, eliminated Mr. Todoroki, and schemed to coerce me, now left utterly alone, into becoming his own... When you consider this, doesn’t it all thread together perfectly? Both as a play and in reality, wouldn’t you say?” “It’s nothing but a new-style Count of Monte Cristo… don’t you think…?”

“……………”

“Among all these obstacles, you alone stand in the way.” “You mean Mr. Ema… don’t you?” “As a brilliant detective writer, you ponder matters far beyond ordinary people’s wildest imaginings.” “So should you ever hear such a tale as this, there’d be no predicting when or where his true identity might be uncovered.” “No precaution could possibly guard against it—wouldn’t you agree?”

“……………”

Ema Chōsaku, while clutching his hair, slowly opened both eyes. Those eyes were pale, filled with grave resolution—terrifying eyes. With trembling fingers, he slowly released his grip from his hair, looked around, then planted both hands on the edge of the whiskey soda-soaked stump and stood up. He stared fixedly at the tip of Kureha’s Greek-style nose and slowly moved his lips.

“……You are a great detective…”

Kureha nodded quietly in unison with him. She batted her large eyes. "...That's why... I'm entrusting this to you." "Please begin investigating Manager Kasa's movements immediately." "And once you've conclusively verified that he is indeed Seiban Kozō himself..." "I... I'll murder him."

Ema Chōsaku’s eyes gleamed fiercely like artificial eyes.

"That will not do."

Kureha waved her hand with grave seriousness.

“Wh... why... Why is that?” “Please leave the means of revenge to me. The murderer of my parents… Todoroki’s murderer…”

“……………”

“So then, I’ll give you the entire bundle of threatening letters. When the time comes, confront Kasa with them and say it—go on. You couldn’t possibly have forgotten the words you yourself wrote. And that he probably hasn’t forgotten the words he used to threaten Kureha-san either… right…” “……………” “And then. I will set the deadline for your activities to the tenth of next month. If by the tenth of next month you still can’t make Kasa spill the truth, you should return for the time being. Is that acceptable? The funds will be provided along with the bundle of threatening letters tomorrow afternoon.”

“No. I don’t need a single penny for expenses.” “No. That won’t do. Strangers should keep their dealings strictly impersonal.” “Wh... strangers…” “Yes. That’s right. Now we’re complete strangers, wouldn’t you say? So please conduct yourself accordingly. As for any and all further consultations thereafter, I ask that you wait until after the tenth of next month.” Ema Chōsaku, struck by emotion, stared at Kureha’s face with eyes as wide and unblinking as a deep-sea fish’s. He stood frozen with his mouth agape, but soon his tousled head drooped heavily, and with tears trickling down, he mumbled haltingly.

“Understood… I shall obey.”

And then, still seemingly unable to contain his overwhelming emotion, he spun around sharply like a soldier and stormed out of the hall with tremendous force. He ran down the stairs with a thunderous noise like a hundred falling thunderclaps.

“Hoho... Sherlock Holmes who’s grasped conclusive evidence... Arsène Lupin driven by righteous indignation, hohohohohahahahaha…”

Amidst oak groves that darkly segmented the star-studded sky into pitch-black sections, the Todoroki residence, its lights extinguished, lay so still it was impossible to discern whether anyone remained within. The white paper affixed to the front gate—inscribed with “During this time of misfortune, all household members decline visits”—fluttered faintly in the breeze as though uncertain whether it still clung there.

In contrast, in the ivy-covered bungalow-style cottage at the garden's edge, lamps blazed crimson-bright as shadows restlessly shifted within.

Ema Chōsaku returned in a furious rush and, without uttering a word or drinking the tea his sister had prepared, clattered open the cupboard to drag out every last item of clothing, hat, shoes, suspenders, and trunk to begin his travel preparations—all while his sister Midori anxiously tried to stop him. "Oh... Brother... Have you lost your mind...?"

“Thank you, thank you. You don’t need to worry. There’s nothing wrong with me at all.” “But Brother, your eyes look so different from usual… It’s like you’ve become Sherlock Holmes clutching decisive evidence or Arsène Lupin raging with righteous fury. Hohoho. What have you done… What on earth?” “Just keep quiet and watch. This is an extremely serious case… A matter you mustn’t get involved in… So you absolutely must maintain a strictly neutral stance and keep quiet and watch… Because this is a serious case where that’s non-negotiable, understand?”

"I know that much... It concerns Mr. Todoroki's household, doesn't it?"

“That’s right. I’m close to figuring out who the real culprit is. It’s my role to track him down now.” “So that’s why you went and overturned the Whiskey Sōtachi…” “Guh... You saw that?”

“Hohohoho,” Midori laughed, her voice teasing. “You were surprised, weren’t you?” Chōsaku plopped down heavily onto the unpainted wooden chair. He sighed listlessly, surveying the cluttered room before blinking his disproportionately large eyes set in an ugly face. “H-how did you find out?” he stammered. “I just got back this very moment…”

Midori smiled forlornly and sat down in the chair opposite.

“It’s nothing. I’ve been racking my brains over this Mr. Todoroki case too, you know. While pondering all sorts of possibilities about who the real culprit might be, I kept agonizing—what would become of us if you were ever suspected?—turning it over and over in my mind.”

“Hmm. Why would suspicion fall on both of us?” “Brother, aren’t you aware? Last night around midnight, Mr. Todoroki and Miss Kureha had a huge fight right in front of the manager...”

“I didn’t know. I was right here drinking tea with you at that time.”

“Yes. “That’s right.” “So I didn’t know either, you know.” “This morning, the maid Miss Ichiko told Miss Yone about it… Then Miss Yone was so shocked, you see.” “She said we mustn’t breathe a word about that fight—but since she’s such a meddlesome chatterbox herself, she first made sure to strictly silence Miss Ichiko, then went out of her way to come here and quietly inform me.” “She told me we mustn’t let it show here either, you know.” “What a peculiar woman.” “Oh, Miss Yone… Hohoho.” “At first, I couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was about.”

“Ah. That story? This morning’s muttering commotion in the kitchen... What on earth was that argument about? What caused Mr. Todoroki and Miss Kureha’s quarrel...” “It’s about whether to expel us two or not.”

“What… Expel us…?…”

“Yes. That’s what they’re saying. Though I don’t know why.” “Wh-what insolence. I’ve helped that Todoroki so much all this time…” “……There’s no use saying such things. If you start comparing favors, you’ll just look like a fool.” “I’ve known I was a fool from the start. They only gave us a pittance of money. But in return, aren’t we providing a genius that money can’t buy? And aren’t we staking our very lives to the fullest extent…”

“Brother, you’re such a fool. Even if you say such things, no one will take you seriously.” “Who on earth wants to expel us?” “Mr. Todoroki said he’d expel us, but Miss Kureha insisted you can’t do such a thing without reason. I heard she tearfully pleaded to stop him.” “Of course!” “I don’t know whether that’s natural or not. If the police found out we’d heard about this, wouldn’t it be disastrous? Brother, everyone knows your excitable temperament, and you know every corner of that house... I was terribly worried suspicion might fall on us.”

“Nonsense… I’m not such a fool.” “But you’re getting worked up like this… without even understanding the situation…” “...Umm... That’s... true enough...” “...Well... So I immediately started devising how to establish our alibis.” “...It took considerable effort, I’ll have you know.” “No need for such troubles. I was sound asleep here last night...” “I was sound asleep here last night...” “Well.” “If such an alibi sufficed, I wouldn’t have struggled so.” “Brother, you propose something uncharacteristically simplistic for a mystery writer.” “But doesn’t it require someone else staying awake all night to verify your slumber?” “A sister’s testimony holds no weight as proof, you realize.” “You ought to know that much.” “You yourself...”

“Hmm. Then what kind of alibi did you come up with?” “That’s precisely what I couldn’t figure out, you know. You see. I thought we’d discuss it properly once you returned tonight, but even when it reached the usual eleven o’clock, you still hadn’t come back. When I called the theater, they said the play had wrapped up early and you’d left with Miss Kureha. So I thought it must be that Alps place for sure, and when I called there, it turned out to be Tekkiri after all, right? So I asked the boy who answered to leave the receiver off the hook—the desk telephone in the hollow of the tree right behind you—and had him point it toward your direction. That’s how I heard every word of your conversation with Miss Kureha. That house is always dead silent, you know.”

“Amazing! “Great detective… Let me shake your hand!””

“You’re such a fool. Brother… Are you really trusting what that woman says…” “Who is that woman?”

“Who do you mean? There was no one else but her…” “Are you saying Miss Kureha would consent to marry me?”

“Yes. You absolutely must not trust her.” “Huh… Why…”

"No matter how you look at it, Miss Kureha never once clearly stated she would agree to marry you." “……………”

Chōsaku pressed his forehead and sank into the chair. “Hmm— Is that so…” “Is that so…” “Exactly. “Because her words are layered with such profound shadows, you must listen with utmost caution.” “Even if she did clearly say such a thing, that’s a lie… Definitely…”

“How do you know that?” “Such a thing… How could you…?”

“A woman’s intuition… The eyes of a third party…”

“Is that all…?”

“That alone should be sufficient, shouldn’t it? I... That Kureha woman... I’m certain she harbors a profoundly deviant psyche.” “Quite the intuition.”

“No. I can tell from various things. First of all, that woman doesn’t truly care for you. She loves me… so much it could kill…” “Wh-what… Is that the truth…?”

Chōsaku nearly leapt up before sitting back down. “Shh.” “Don’t raise your voice.” “It might be heard outside—it’s true.” “There’s no mistake.” “That woman only acts familiar with Brother to get closer to me.” “If you watch her eyes and lips when she bids Brother farewell, you’ll see they hold an utterly detached coldness.” “At times I can only believe she’s sneering at Brother.” “I’ve witnessed this countless times.”

Chōsaku vigorously scrubbed his pallid cheeks and forehead with a new handkerchief. “Hmm— Then how did you know she likes you?” “But I’m right here before you, Brother. That woman… she’s been terrifying me beyond endurance lately. Merely saying she fancies me falls short—she seems to worship me from the depths of her soul. It’s utterly bizarre. She’s been safeguarding that yellow handkerchief I left in her room ages ago, kissing it repeatedly. When I chanced upon her once, she tried frantically to hide it—but I saw the handkerchief smeared with her lipstick, sticky traces everywhere.”

“Hmph. That’s creepy… Is that for real?” “There’s no point in me lying to you, Brother. Whenever that woman looks at me, her gaze sears into my cheek like burning embers.” “Heh… That’s surprising. So… you mean it’s homosexuality?”

“That seems to be the case. They say it’s common among people with warped personalities—those who’ve had their innate traits exaggerated on stage. In Ms. Kureha’s case, that intensity must be even more pronounced. That’s why I… if it weren’t for Brother… have wanted to flee this house time and time again, it’s been so unnerving… Someone kind has suggested time and time again how about becoming exclusive with Rocky Record Company, but I refused and endured it all.”

“Idiot—why did you refuse? Such a sweet deal…” “Because I’d rather be dependent on your hundred yen than earn two hundred yen to support you, Brother…”

“Hmm… I see…! Thank you…”

Chōsaku’s eyes were already bright red.

“But… it’s utterly suffocating.” “Because homosexuality is something that only exists in Japan, isn’t it?” “In Korea, I’ve never even heard of such things—I don’t know what to do about it.” “Unless I come to like Ms. Kureha as much as she likes me, there’s nothing I can do, is there?” “It just leaves me with this unbearable feeling—like being bewitched by a serpent-woman.” “And that very thing presses in with such profoundly deep allure… making it all the more suffocating.”

“Hasn’t even a letter or anything come from Ms. Kureha…?” “No. Nothing like that has ever come. It’s just that I actually feel that way.” “Hmm...” “So then… what will happen… I… I…” “Oh, you’re crying… Brother…” “I’m not crying.” “I’m scared.” “I…” “There’s nothing to be afraid of at all.” “All you need to do is let that woman deceive you, Brother. She still suspects you regarding who killed Mr. Todoroki… isn’t that right… yes?” “Since she intends to have you investigate by asking you, it would be best for you to simply go along with it as she wishes.”

“I’ve somehow gotten completely confused. So I just need to go along with whatever that woman says, right?”

“Yes. That’s right.” “Make sure we don’t show even a hint that we’re suspicious of that woman.” “And while we keep up that act, who knows—even that woman might come to adore you, Brother.” “You’re no help at all…” “What you’re saying… give me something more reliable than that.” “But how can anyone know what the future holds…? You’re so honest—taking everything at face value, turning pale one moment and flushing red the next…”

“Hey, hey, hey. Can you even read someone’s face over the phone?” “Oh! You saw through it… The trick—” “Trick? What’s this ‘trick’ you’re—” “Hohoho. It’s nothing at all. I locked up right after you left tonight and went out. I simply can’t stay home alone at times like this, you know. There’s nothing valuable there except your manuscripts anyway… And then,” she trailed off before brightening, “I made a little detour to Rocky Records and signed a contract. Two hundred yen a month…”

“Gah! Is that true…? That’s…” “Yes. Because if Mr. Todoroki dies, we too will have to make considerable preparations, won’t we? Shall I show you the contract… Look…”

“Hmm… You’re trying to surprise me so recklessly… aren’t you?”

"The person who sponsored me was overjoyed. They say Westerners go wild over my voice ever since that test recording... So I won't need to depend on anyone anymore. I'm just repaying Mr. Todoroki's kindness to Ms. Kureha." "You're clearly better than me, no question about it. Tonight's the night I'm thoroughly beaten." "Hohoho! There's still something grander coming! The best part's yet to come!"

“N-now what on earth…?” “Take a guess.”

“I don’t know.” “That phone call story was a lie.” “Huh?! What did you say…?”

“Oh! You still haven’t realized, have you?” “But you haven’t told me anything yet about the trick…” “You’re such an oblivious brother. You see… I used the advance from the contract I received tonight to disguise myself and go see tonight’s play. Then I followed you and Ms. Kureha’s trail to Alps and completely overheard your conversation from the side… With a hunting cap on my head, tinted glasses over my eyes, and my raincoat collar turned up under a sooty lamp—you shouldn’t have been able to recognize me. That madam over there is indeed Korean—I’ve been quite comfortable with her for ages. She’s the second in command at Rocky Records, you know. This matter was also arranged by that madam.”

“I’m shocked… shocked… shocked…” “There’s still something that’ll surprise you—that old man called Kasa, you know.”

“Poor thing—the old man is cruel.” “Do you truly believe Kasa Keinosuke is the real culprit?”

“Well…” “Can’t say for sure.” “Without testing it out…”

“Right. Then try testing it out. Since that person wouldn’t do anything reckless toward Brother…” “What’s this? You’re talking like some clairvoyant… You seem to know every last detail of the case’s truth…” “Yes. I might know… but if I were to say it now, it would cause a huge commotion, and everything would become unclear—so I think it’s better not to say anything.”

“Hmm... If you insist on putting it that way, I won’t press further… But this ‘understanding’ of yours—does it concern the culprit… or the entire case…?” “Yes. The final secret buried in the deepest depths of this whole affair. An utterly mysterious… and artistically profound secret. Were that made clear, I would gladly cast aside my entire life and offer myself as its sacrifice.”

“Hey now. Don’t say such dangerous things… Oh! Midori-chan… Are you crying?” “But… it’s just too pitiful… In the face of that secret’s mystique and artistic depth, my entire life is like a star before the sun…” “It’s truly a mystery now.” “Yes. It’s a mystery regardless—the ugliest and most beautiful mystery in this world. If only that could be solved, the truth of this case would become clear at once.”

“I truly don’t understand.” “Somehow… I feel it’s better not to know.”

“Yes.” “Me too.” “If we found out, it would be disastrous.”

“When on earth did you notice such a thing?” “I finally realized it tonight—while listening to that woman and your conversation…”

“Wh...what are you talking about?” “That’s…”

Chōsaku suddenly stood up with such intense force that his sister Midori also involuntarily rose to her feet. With her eyes still slightly teary, she flushed bright red to the roots of her hair.

“That woman… While I was reflecting her profile in my compact mirror from the shadows—her face turned toward you as she spoke—my heart began thump-thump-thumping… Mirrors truly are demonic things… I knew it…”

The siblings exchanged looks as their faces visibly paled. "Hmm. Why did your heart start thumping?"

Midori appeared increasingly tearful and looked down. While leaving the tea half-poured, she fiddled with the edge of her white apron until her ears turned bright red. Stammering and faltering, she said: "Miss Kureha was too... too beautiful, I thought..."

The next day also remained clear.

When dawn broke, actress Miss Amakawa Kureha, having resolutely risen early and completed her elaborate Japanese-style preparations as usual, immediately summoned the Todoroki family's legal advisor, Lawyer Sakurama. She had already mortgaged the building and land of her home—now under her name—to withdraw eighteen thousand yen from Horibata Bank, from which she separated three thousand yen to summon the Ema siblings and, with Lawyer Sakurama as witness, personally handed it over while having them issue a formal receipt. Then, the three of them—excluding the lawyer—took a taxi to Kirigaya Crematorium, retrieved Mr. Todoroki Kuzō's remains, placed them in the deceased's own room, and invited a priest from a nearby temple to chant sutras.

Kureha, who had been first to stand before the Buddhist altar during the incense offering, clasped her hands together for a long time, mumbling prayers through trembling lips as she wept with shaking shoulders. Her demeanor proved so utterly sincere that not only the Ema siblings but even maid Yone found their eyes moistening. Yet whether by design or chance, as Kureha's murmured prayers neared their end, an indescribably sinister force began permeating the Western-style room's tomblike silence - seeping so palpably through the air that all present turned ashen and exchanged stricken glances.

“…Everything… you… and I… have been mistaken since twenty years ago… I wish to publicly reveal this with my own hands… I wish to correct it into its proper form… I wish to eradicate all misguided debts and grudges… Please attain Buddhahood… Namu Amida Butsu…”

Then, while the priests had yet to leave, she summoned a luxury taxi and rushed out like an arrow loosed from its bow. She drove straight to the Imperial Hotel, met with Mr. Danbara Manpei—president of Tokiwa Productions, hailed as the foremost showman in the Orient—and made a binding agreement to sell Kurehabashi Theater outright for a mere fifty thousand yen, effective no later than September 10th. Then Kureha returned straight home again, summoned Lawyer Sakurama to her bedroom, and after entrusting him with various detailed matters concerning her absence and contractual obligations, she stealthily departed from Ueno Station with just over ten actors and actresses—selected from Kurehabashi Theater's twenty-seven exclusive performers and disguised to avoid notice—vanishing to parts unknown. This development, following the arrest of Mr. Todoroki's murderer, was reported in all newspapers, stirring the entire capital's curiosity. However, that too lasted but a brief moment, and before they knew it, the public had forgotten all about it as if it were nothing.

That said, a segment of avant-garde urbanites who had genuinely cherished the flavor of Kurehabashi Theater’s detective dramas and grotesque plays did, in fact, seem to feel a loneliness akin to extinguished flames. The fact that even a rather unremarkable German horror film titled Laughing Heart, which happened to be showing at a rundown theater in the outskirts, drew sold-out crowds day after day vividly attested to the urbanites’ ravenous hunger for such grotesque fare. In fact, among sensitive literary figures, theater critics, and artists, there actually existed people who were fervently writing articles centered around "praise for Miss Kureha"—with titles like "Save Kurehabashi Theater," "Grotesque Plays and Urbanites," and "Horror Plays and Actresses"—to submit to next month's magazine issues. However, this melancholy of urbanites—born of a certain pure-hearted sentiment—was utterly shattered within barely a month thereafter. All those who saw the full-page advertisement in the September 4th morning editions of Tokyo’s ten major newspapers gasped in astonishment.

At the center of that full-page advertisement was a roughly five-sun-square photograph of Miss Kureha in her marumage hairstyle, her thin lips slightly parted at one corner to reveal a sliver of white teeth frozen in an enchantingly beautiful smile. Surrounding it, red and black bold typefaces—ranging from one-sun squares to primary and number-one-sized characters—overlapped and swirled about. "Kurehabashi Theater Revives", "Starring Miss Amakawa Kureha as the New Theater Monarch", "Grotesque Detective Drama: Double Heart" “Original Work: Edgar Allan Poe’s Secret Manuscript” “Recently acquired at the Parisian market in France for two million francs by Madame Paolo Oderoine of the Grand Guignol Theater” “Adapted and dramatized by Mr. Ema Chōsaku, the foremost authority in the field” "Sensational, Bizarre, Miraculous, Thrilling—Unparalleled Demonic Beauty" "September 7th: Doors open at 5 PM, curtain rises at 6 PM" “Special Class (Reserved) 10 yen” And so on... Then, after a day's interval, the morning editions of the 6th and 7th strangely published excerpts of articles about the "Todoroki Murder Case" from major Tokyo newspapers, appending at the very bottom an explanation in size-four type that read as follows.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I wish for you to recall before watching this play.” On the night of August 3rd, approximately one month ago from today... regarding the mysterious criminal who murdered the former owner of this theater... At that time, the criminal Seiban Kozō—real name Ishiguri Kotarō—who had been arrested within mere hours of the incident through swift arrangements by the authorities, has yet to utter a single word regarding his motive for murdering Mr. Todoroki. Consequently, all matters remain shrouded beneath a colossal question mark at present. However, I do not hesitate to declare that the astonishing trick employed in *Double Heart*—a work by the great genius Poe being performed this very day—now, a century after its creation, points to an utterly unexpected key capable of erasing without trace this colossal question mark looming over the crime that has shocked the world. The reason I recommended this mysteriously grotesque detective drama *Double Heart* for the opening night of the revived Kurehabashi Theater lies precisely in this latent truth: when the throbbing of the grotesque *Double Heart*—pulsating through every shadowed corner of modern society—unfolds before your very eyes, revealing how it depicted this bizarre grand crime’s truth and progression, how violently will it set your pulse racing? How fiercely will it reverse the flow in your veins? How completely will it cover your body in goosebumps and make every hair on your head stand rigid? Whether it will plunge one into a stupor of pathos and demonic beauty is beyond this author’s humble capacity to imagine; I hereby append this note with due reverence. September [day] Authored by Ema Chōsaku」

Moreover, at the center of these articles lay a crimson ? shaped like dripping blood— Within a ring of symbols, the figure of Miss Kureha—her hair disheveled, pistol aimed straight forward as she laughed uproariously—had been printed in coarse halftone. "Oh. Brother."

“Oh. Midori. Good day.” “Oh my… The number of attendees tonight is simply overwhelming, isn’t it? It’s almost frightening, isn’t it—”

“Yeah. “It’s an unprecedented record for Kurehabashi Theater.” “I nearly died trying to get to this seat. “You said they were special-class seats at the front, but when I tried to enter through the main entrance, I nearly got crushed in the crowd, I tell you. “I finally managed to get in through the stage door by asking Mr. Teramoto... Ah, it’s so hot... You kept me waiting so long...” “Nah. “I just got here a moment ago.” “Oh my, Brother, you’ve gotten quite a sunburn, haven’t you?”

“Did you finally notice?” “Heh heh heh.” “This is from hot spring baths, you know.” “Been visiting places with strong UV rays.” “You been keeping well?” “Yes. Of course I have.” “I’d gone to Kobe four or five days back.” “Then this morning, when I got home and saw your telegram—startled me so I rushed straight here.”

“What did you go to Kobe for?” “That’s the strange part. The Tokiwa Film in Rokko, right? They urgently asked me to come there secretly, you see. That sister of the Alpine housewife… You know who I mean, don’t you? Ms. Kimiko, who handles the accounting… She’s always been so kind to us. You see… It’s because she asked me to. When Ms. Kimiko and I went to check it out, we ended up going through an absolutely dreadful ordeal, you see.” “Did they make you sing something?”

“That’s the strange part again. As soon as I arrived, someone who looked like a beautician caught me, put me in hot water, made me style my hair in a loop braid, and caked on this eerie pale makeup that gave me the creeps, you see.” “Ah, I see. It’s screen makeup. So then… you were hired as an extra, then?” “Yes. It seems so, you see. Without understanding the plot or anything, they made me wear an art school armband, stand on what looked like a school podium, and sing ‘Hotaru no Hikari’ in Japanese... Then when I’d finished singing after about three minutes, some director-looking man in filthy work clothes took off his hole-riddled hat and said ‘That’s enough.’ ‘Thank you…’ was all he said, and then immediately they started filming other scenes, didn’t they? On top of that, everyone was staring at me, don’t you think? Ms. Kimiko wasn’t there, I didn’t know the way back, and I was at such a loss about what to do that I was on the verge of tears, you see.”

“You’re such a fool,” he scoffed. “That’s what comes of playing extra roles.” “But listen,” she continued breathlessly, “amidst all that commotion, Ms. Kimiko suddenly popped out from nowhere! She made me bathe again and helped fix my appearance when this distinguished gentleman in his fifties—with a bright red birthmark plastered on his cheek—approached me right there on the set.” Her hands fluttered like startled birds as she spoke. “He handed me his card while apologizing profusely—‘My deepest regrets for this appalling treatment’—then insisted we follow him.” “He whisked Ms. Kimiko and me away in his motorcar to the Mikado Hotel,” she leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially, “treated us to the most extravagant feast! Every day afterward, he personally chauffeured us around Kyoto, Osaka, Nara in his splendid automobile.” A theatrical sigh escaped her lips. “He even said—oh so gallantly—‘Should you and your esteemed brother ever wish to build a villa, simply name the place!’ And he absolutely raved about your scripts!”

“Hey now. You’re not making this up, are you?” “Not at all. It’s the truth, I tell you. And then, as I was leaving, they gave me a truly splendid linen dress, a diamond ring, an imported hat, a handbag, shoes, a trunk, and a first-class sleeper ticket…” “Hold on, Midori… This is getting stranger and stranger. You must’ve spat at the kitchen god or done something while I was away.” “Oh my! Then I’ll show you the items when you return home. And also, I received ¥1,000 besides that.”

“That’s all? Just three minutes?”

“Yes. I have it right here.” “Idiot.” “Enough already!”

“Oh my! Listen to me! Then when I came back and went to see Rocky’s manager and told him that story… he said Kimiko pulled some outrageous prank… you know.” “He turned deathly pale as he listened.” “And then he suddenly placed his hands on the floor before me and said, ‘Thank you very much.’” “‘Thank you for returning safely.’” “‘When it comes to that person, there’s no winning.’” “‘Please, even if you should ever join Tokiwa Film hereafter, I beg you to honor my contract as promised…’ he kept bowing and scraping in apology.” “That was about Sakki just now.” “I’ve gotten all confused about what’s going on.”

“Do you have that business card here?”

“Yes. It’s right here. A man named Danbara. I think I’ve heard that name somewhere before…” “What… Danbara… You mean that entertainment tycoon? The greatest in all Asia—” “Oh! Right… I was too busy looking at photos to notice. Do you suppose he took a fancy to me…”

“...Hmm— This has turned into quite a predicament.” “What should I do?” “By the way, how’s your main job at Rocky Records going…” “That’s another strange thing, you see. They only let me record local folk songs from my hometown, you see. When Westerners hear my hometown’s pronunciation, they say it sounds remarkably musical, you know. They insist it’s no good if anyone else sings them...”

“That’s strange. If you’re not careful, that too might just be thanks to being ‘Made in Japan,’ you know.” “That might be the case. But you know, they say both sides of my *Island Maiden* record were shipped to America twice—seven thousand copies each time. So I’m positively glowing this month.” “……I’m shocked. Isn’t this success coming too fast? It’s downright terrifying.” “And how about your results, Brother?”

“Mine’s the opposite of yours.” “Everything’s a total mess.”

“Oh my! But I’m so glad you returned safely, you know.”

“No,” “I still don’t know—” “Whether it’s safe or not—” “Why did you return so early…? You said you’d come back after the tenth of September…”

“Why? Because I saw that newspaper from the fourth of this month,” “I suddenly got worried.” “...Oh... I was too,” “I was terribly worried.” “Because, Brother, before handing over the script for this play—the one you sent from Atami—to Lawyer Sakurama, I did peek at it a little, didn’t I?” “I thought it was absolutely dreadful how they used that script for such an overblown advertisement.” “It lays bare all of Ms. Kureha’s personal history, you know.” “It’s not Poe’s original work or anything of the sort.”

“Yeah.” “What I was worried about was exactly that.” “It’s a first-rate case of advertising fraud.” “And you know that script’s been completely gutted on Ms. Kureha’s orders.” “The parts touching on the core of this incident aren’t even this much.” “They said as long as the performance script gets approved no matter what, that’s all that matters—so I wrote it exactly how they wanted.” Then, when I sent a long telegram directly from Tateyama to Lawyer Sakurama to check the situation, the reply came that Ms. Kureha had already left without even properly reviewing the script. “This is a real mess.” “I’ve no idea what kind of script readings they’re doing or what rehearsals they’re holding.” “I left Manager Kasa’s whole Seiban Kozō problem unattended—sent a telegram to Terumoto from the troupe to reserve these two special seats—then rushed back here after seeing his reply.” “On the way, I sent that telegram to Midori.”

“That explains it… I couldn’t quite grasp what it meant.” “But it said ‘SUGU TERAMOTO NI DENWA SEYO,’ you see.” “I thought I might have to meet that womanizing actor Anna and was trembling with nerves.” “You’re as stiffly proper as ever, Midori.” “Where might Mr. Kasa be now?” “He ought to have returned by now.” “He was at Mount Tateyama in Etchū.”

“Oh! “Oh my! “To such a place…” “Yeah. “Looks like your prediction came true. “It seems I’ve been treated like some Don Quixote by Ms. Kureha all this time.”

“Oh my... Why...?” “Why? It’s a ridiculous story. Manager Kasa isn’t some grand villain. Right after I finished writing that script, I confronted that bastard myself. When I threatened him—‘You’re the culprit’—he turned white as a sheet on the spot. He kept spouting all sorts of excuses. Came up with this pathetic alibi... Before long, I started realizing this guy wasn’t some fearsome figure like Seiban Kozō after all. But even then, thinking he might still be playing innocent, I kept changing my disguises and tailing him. Then that bastard—maybe thinking I’d kill him—saw through my disguises quick and kept fleeing from one hot spring to another. That guy must’ve been obsessed with hot springs. And at every damn place we went, he’d put on this baboon-like old man act until I couldn’t take it anymore. Seriously...”

“I had mostly thought it would be something like that.”

“Then when the fifth of this month came around and we saw that Tokyo newspaper advertisement at Tateyama Hot Springs—to be honest—we both were utterly shocked.” “This is terrible.” “The moment we realized nothing outrageous had started yet—and it better not—we both somehow felt Ms. Kureha had tricked us into some sort of staring contest.” “So without knowing who started it, we sat down facing each other and talked bluntly. When we did, the way Ms. Kureha had phrased things to us seemed suspicious.” “Wasn’t this all a scheme to keep us away from Tokyo so we wouldn’t interfere?... And wasn’t Ms. Kureha planning to push through this reckless production alone—something we’d never agree to?... Once we reached that conclusion, though we couldn’t believe it possible, both of us grew so anxious we decided to rush back on the first train available.”

“You’re both so dense.” “You both…” “Don’t say that.” “Ms. Kureha’s skill is amazing.” “And then what did you do…?”

“But then... When I returned, it appeared all the actors had been gagged—they wouldn’t breathe a word about the play’s plot details.” “Then when I checked the large props backstage—though it wasn’t entirely clear—props that didn’t match the scenes I’d specified seemed to be appearing, which made me grow increasingly uneasy.” “I knew I might be rousing a sleeping serpent, but it had only just happened.” “Before coming here, I stopped by the Security Division at the Metropolitan Police Department, met an inspector I was acquainted with named Katayama from the Entertainment Section, and asked if I could see that performance script one more time—what do you think happened?” “Suddenly he seized my hand in a death grip... then demanded with wild eyes, ‘Where did you get this script?!’” “I was downright startled.” “Good grief...”

"...That does sound about right... Oh-ho..." “Inspector Katayama’s account goes like this… Those two performance scripts were received on August 15th from a lawyer named Sakurama and approved on September 3rd. Then on September 6th… yesterday morning, an Inspector Watanuki from Ōmori Police Station’s judicial division—who’d seen the newspaper ad—unexpectedly appeared at the Metropolitan Police Department and demanded to see that *Double Heart* script.” “Since he said it was a simple request, I showed it to him. As he read it, Inspector Watanuki's face turned deathly pale... Mid-sentence—'Sorry, could I just borrow this script for a moment?'—he snatched it away, shoved it into his pocket, then leaped onto his motorcycle like a man possessed and sped off.”

“Oh my… How terrifying…” “Then, according to what Inspector Watanuki—drenched in sweat—said when he came by that evening to return it... it’s serious. That script... no one besides the late Mr. Todoroki Kuzō and the culprit should have known about it.” “Up until today, I can’t tell you how much we went through trying to make the culprit confess to facts matching that script, but thanks to getting our hands on that script, we finally made him talk.” “Thinking the playwright had probably heard the story from the late Mr. Todoroki under some vow of secrecy, they read that script aloud to the culprit still held at Ōmori Police Station, made him correct any errors, then told him about Ms. Kureha’s production—whereupon he suddenly turned pale and started shouting, ‘Stop that performance immediately!’” “He apparently said, ‘All my hard work will go to waste.’”

“Seiban Kozō said that…” “Yeah. ‘This is the request of my lifetime,’ he pleaded through tears streaming down his fearsome face. ‘Even if sentenced to death, I’ll have no regrets—but this alone I beg your mercy for. Please, I implore you—help me. Otherwise I’ll bite my tongue and die here…’ In the end, he started banging his forehead against the floorboards until his face was smeared with blood, thrashing about like a madman while begging.”

“Oh my… How unsettling…” "...So when Inspector Watanuki of the judicial division asked, 'Then what exactly was this effort of yours?', he pleaded, 'I must ask you to forgive me just this once.'" "In any case, if that play isn’t stopped immediately, something terrible will happen." “Otherwise, please let me meet Miss Amakawa Kureha once more before the play begins.” "He kept pleading 'Please, please!' and threw such an absurd tantrum that they were at their wit's end." "I hear death row inmates often make unreasonable demands and throw tantrums like that." "Even so, since they couldn’t make heads or tails of it, they’ve been making a huge fuss since yesterday searching for my whereabouts... or so Inspector Katayama of the Security Division told me."

“Oh my… And then what did you do…?” "I couldn’t make sense of anything anymore either." "Well, that script is exactly as you’ve surmised—merely a moralistic dramatization of what I heard directly from Mr. Todoroki during his lifetime." "So I said, ‘Let’s go to Ōmori Police Station now, meet with the judicial officer, and have a proper discussion…’ then fled the Metropolitan Police Department in a panic—that was just about two hours ago." “Then, thinking it was dangerous, I came here and hid backstage.” “If I carelessly got caught, I thought I wouldn’t be able to see the play, you know.”

“Ah. So I’ve finally grasped the situation now. “Now listen—no matter what occurs, you mustn’t tell the police you heard it from Ms. Kureha, understood?”

“Of course. I’ll claim I heard it directly from Mr. Todoroki, but even so, after seeing tonight’s play, I must go straight to Ōmori Police Station. I suppose I ought to meet the culprit too—but regardless, I can’t devise a resolution strategy without first witnessing this play’s staging.” “Why would the culprit fear this play so intensely? If one is prepared for execution, there should be nothing more dreadful than that…”

“Who knows? Of course I wouldn’t know about such things.” “Even so, the theater feels overwhelming tonight. When I think that Seiban Kozō’s presence is mixed in here, I feel somewhat uneasy. It’s as if everyone here has the faces of people who came to watch an execution…” “Yeah. This is another one of my worries. That advertisement is indeed a fraudulent, exaggerated one. First off, the very claim that it’s based on Poe’s original work is a complete fabrication… It’s a made-up story I never even dreamed up. If they figure out tonight’s staging, they’ll definitely get hit with a shutdown.”

“Oh my! Will tonight’s play be ruined too?” “No. That won’t happen. No matter how recklessly you stage a play, as long as it doesn’t touch on ideology, public morals, or politics, there’s never been a single instance where an officer present would stop it on the spot… The real issue is tomorrow’s performance.” “Miss Kureha intends to make a killing in sales tonight alone, doesn’t she? I’m prepared to pay a fine…” “That might be the case.”

“In that case, I must be a truly remarkable impresario, don’t you think?” “Yeah. And that’s not all there is to it. That woman is not only a great actress without equal in the world but also a genius in playwriting and crime criticism... She might even be a poet of the Satanic School as well.” “I’ve somehow started feeling all nervous.” “It’s probably just the heat.”

“No.” “Ms. Kureha’s genius has grown terrifying.” “I was simply imagining what sort of staging you might devise…”

Such whispered conversations were taking place in the front-center box seats on the first floor. Ema Chōsaku - looking even uglier in his laborer-like attire, still bearing the fatigue of travel - and Midori, in her pale dress with a Tasche-style beret tilted slightly, appearing as fresh as a schoolgirl, formed a contrast so heartwarming it seemed almost otherworldly.

The interior of Kurehabashi Theater was literally murderously packed. The crowd was so large that organizing the seating had apparently become impossible. From the outer corridors to right before the stage, people were packed like sardines with no room to move; though every window from the first to third floor stood wide open and electric fans and ventilators worked at full capacity, the ceaseless fluttering of fans throughout the theater never abated—yet outside the ticket booth, voices still clamored in a shouting match. When it became five minutes before the scheduled time of six o'clock, a frenzied surge of applause erupted from the audience and roared wildly. At the center of the stage in front of the curtain directly opposite them, a young, tall man in a tailcoat appeared, respectfully bowed to the audience, and then began to speak. At first, his words were drowned out by this blind applause that seemed to revel in the unprecedented packed state of the theater, rendering them nearly inaudible. But as the crowd's restless commotion subsided within that clamor, a youthful, cheerful voice soon began resonating clearly to every corner.

"Oh. Isn't that Mr. Teramoto?" “Yeah. He used to be Rocky’s exclusive tenor and was quite something back then.”

“What a lovely voice…” “Now then—without further delay—tonight’s performance centers on dramatizing both the unprecedented psychological terror of our former theater owner Mr. Todoroki Kuzō’s murderer,” announced the presenter with ceremonial gravity, “and revealing the shockingly unexpected true culprit through our new owner Miss Amakawa Kureha’s climactic soliloquy.” “Though unworthy to stand in this realm,” he continued, “I must inform you that Miss Kureha—acclaimed alongside France’s Madame Paolo Oderoin as twin luminaries of macabre detective theater—has devised staging details for her final monologue known solely to herself. Not even our playwright or cast members received advance notice of how she’ll steer *Double Heart* to its shuddering climax.” “As all esteemed guests here tonight,” he bowed slightly, “are fully informed through recent press reports about Mr. Todoroki’s tragic demise through recent press reports, we’ve omitted explanatory details of that incident.” “For those without programs among this unexpectedly vast audience,” he concluded, “we’ll briefly outline each act’s psychologically charged structure.”

Act I... The Distant Cause of the Detective Drama King Murder Case — A Scene Featuring the Villainous Bandit Seiban Kozō and Boss Todoroki Kyūzō in Action. Scene II. Act II... The Motive for the Detective Drama King’s Murder and the Scene of the Crime. Scene II. Act III... The Successor to the Detective Drama King: Miss Amakawa Kureha’s Soliloquy and Solo Performance. Scene of the Revelation of the Truth. Scene I. "—End—" Thunderous applause erupted throughout the theater but immediately stilled into perfect silence this time. Amidst the intermittent clang of a cold bell from the stage’s corner, the curtain began rising soundlessly.

All windows from the first to third floor had been closed before anyone noticed. The theater was buried in unbearable dimness and sweltering heat, yet this was likely due to the icy curiosity of thousands of people sharpened in every corner of the venue. A silence akin to the abyssal depths of the ocean—where not a single fan stirred—steadily seeped into each person's eardrums from both sides.

Act I, Scene I was a scene of a grassland facing the national highway on the outskirts of Mitsuke Town, Shizuoka Prefecture. Atop a flat stone in the center of that grassland sat the young boss, Todoroki Kyūzō. Before him crouched Seiban Kozō—disguised as a medicine seller in gold-braided clothing—now revealed as Ishiguri Kotarō. Sitting cross-legged, he pulled a pistol from his pocket, exposed the misconduct of Kyūzō’s wife, and while flaunting an amethyst hairpin he claimed to have received from her long ago at some place, pleaded for Kyūzō to overlook his planned assault on Amagi Ryūsen’s residence. After thinking for a while, Todoroki Kyūzō accepted the amethyst hairpin as proof of his agreement and parted with Seiban Kozō. After Seiban Kozō had left, he summoned his wife and the caretaker to the grassland, thrust the incriminating hairpin before them, solemnly declared their separation, and resolutely departed while wiping away tears. Seiban Kozō, who had been observing the scene from the shadows of the grove, emerged, crossed his arms with a ghastly sneer, and watched Todoroki Kyūzō’s retreating figure,

"I really thought I could drive 'em out proper... but this mess ain't lettin' me sit on my hands no more." The scene showed him nodding grimly to himself before departing. As the stage rotated to reveal Amagi Ryūsen's residence, Todoroki Kyūzō formally assumed custody of their daughter Mie from the Ryūsen couple, discreetly prompting the girl's farewell before making his dignified exit. Within this unchanged setting at nightfall, Seiban Kozō infiltrated the premises, butchered the elderly couple, ransacked the house for meager coins, then vanished while muttering bitter asides about being outmaneuvered by Todoroki Kyūzō.

As the curtain closed, everyone let out a sigh of relief and began whispering to each other.

“Oh, Brother. Was part of it rewritten?” “Mhm. That’s what’s odd. Structurally, this act matches exactly how I wrote it out. Where did they even store such massive props?... Though the Ryūsens’ murder scene does feel altered. There was nothing in my script about old man Ryūsen praying with blood streaming down his head like that. I kept that detail hidden since I figured they’d glare at me for it.” “Do you think the police are here?”

“Even if they’re here, it’s become something of an unwritten rule that they won’t say anything tonight, so it’s fine.” “In return, it’s certain that tomorrow they’ll come threatening to shut it down or something.” “Though Miss Kureha might be performing this fully prepared for that outcome.” “…But even Mr. Todoroki and Miss Kureha’s former selves can be imagined from this act, I suppose.” “Nah. Since everyone’s watching thinking it’s just a play, they won’t go imagining such unnecessary things.” “Since everyone’s watching thinking it’s just a play, they won’t go imagining such unnecessary things.”

“I wonder… But no one would ever think it’s based on Poe’s original work.” “Then…” “Heh heh heh. “Shut up.” “Since the curtain’s opening… Oh! This is a Western-style room… I’d set it up as a Japanese-style room…” “……Shh, shh……”

The first scene of Act II was set in Mr. Todoroki Kuzō’s private room within Miss Amakawa Kureha’s residence in Ōmori. From the room’s structure to the placement of objects, extending even to Master Todoroki Kuzō’s attire, everything replicated reality down to the last detail—the cherry blossoms in full bloom outside the window were arranged with branches matching their natural form precisely. By the eastern window’s chaise longue where Todoroki Kuzō lay in casual kimono with his legs outstretched sat an actor portraying Ema Chōsaku—his chestnut-burr hairstyle visible beneath an art school uniform. Before them stood a girl bearing uncanny resemblance to Midori—she who once conducted the music school’s band—standing with impeccable posture as she performed a solo using Midori’s record for vocal accompaniment. Mr. Todoroki listened, narrowing his eyes in an expression of perfect contentment.

“My youthful wish spreads clear and blue across the sky— “Radiantly clouds stream across the vast sky— O vast sky!” “My youthful thoughts—endlessly clear and spreading— “Carefree the wind streams— O vast sky— Ah, vast sky!” “Mmm. “Her voice has become quite splendid.” “Schools are truly a blessing.”

The siblings bow their heads simultaneously.

"Thank you very much."

“Ah. You’ve worked hard. Thanks to you, I feel at ease… Hm.” “Now then...” “Today I’ll be dining with my daughter Mie for the first time in ages, so you all must come join us.”

The two exchanged looks in delight. “Ha ha ha. Are you happy?”

"Thank you very much." “Uncle. Thank you.”

“Mmm. You’ve become quite skilled with your words. You’re just like a Japanese person now. Ha ha ha. How about it? Which do you prefer—Japan or Korea?” “I prefer Japan.” “Why do you prefer Japan?” “In Korea, there’s nobody who cares for foreigners like you do, sir.” “Ha ha ha! Being foreign had its perks, didn’t it? What about you, Midori?” “I’d like to see the Tumen River one more time.” “Mmm, mmm. I understand that feeling. Back then, we endured such hardships together with you all in the snow.”

“Uncle would catch salmon every day and let us eat them.” “Ahahaha.” “Now then—you all have been living like siblings with Mie every single day since then. But even if something were to happen to this uncle... could you continue living together as amicably as before?” “I’d like to ask for future reference...” “I can.”

“I really like Miss Kureha.” “What about you, Midori?” “I... like... very much. But... somehow it feels frightening.” “What’s scary? Why...” Midori leaned bashfully. Mr. Todoroki laughed awkwardly while stroking his face. “There’s nothing scary about that at all, I tell you.” “She’s got a strong competitive streak, and having seen nothing but the underbelly of the world since she was little—that’s why she turned out like that.” “She’s actually a very tearful, strongly pure-hearted person at heart, I tell you.”

“Miss Kureha is a remarkable woman. “She knows everything, you see. “She can critique Decadent poetry and Futurist paintings—I was utterly astonished.”

“Hmm. She may have come under my influence. I was originally an ordinary, sentimental person at heart, but in my haste to become someone great, I took a path in life that betrayed my true nature—and as a result, the way I see and hear things became utterly different from ordinary people. I ended up developing a personality that so adores the deeds of demons it can never be satisfied. Ha ha ha. You don’t need to be afraid, Midori… When it comes to you siblings, I’m not a demon at all. I’m an ordinary, ordinary sentimental person… It’s to return to being that ordinary, ordinary person and take a breather now and then that I’ve been raising you all… Ah, I’ve said something tedious. Then come again in the evening. I’ll send a maid to fetch you once dinner is ready…”

“Uncle… Goodbye…” “Master… Goodbye…”

“Ah… Goodbye…” When the two exited, Mr. Todoroki pressed the call bell, ordered the maid who entered to summon Sanegusa, and then stretched out on the chaise longue.

A deep center part. A crimson furisode. Kureha appeared briskly, her obi of pure gold thread tied in a tateya-no-ji knot. “Oh... Father.” “Did you call for me?” “...Yes.” “Come here...” “...I’m glad.” “Will you take me to another theater again?”

As Miss Kureha clung sweetly to him, Mr. Todoroki—having lifted her up and risen—stood, locked the entrance door, closed the window curtains, returned to the chaise longue while laughing eerily, and lifted Kureha’s body. “Today, I have a request to make of you.” While resuming a serious demeanor, he began discussing their personal histories, briefly recounted the events of the previous act, and revealed that the two of them were not truly parent and child.

At each and every word, Kureha hunched her shoulders and closed her eyes as if tormented, yet listened with an eerily cold composure—until eventually she raised her chilly black eyes and smiled. “So… what sort of request are you making of me…” Mr. Todoroki suddenly began shedding streaming tears and, with an impassioned demeanor, grasped Kureha’s hands. “I... I’ve lived until today by making it my sole purpose to raise you into adulthood and then have you avenge your parents’ deaths.”

"Oh... That sort of thing... I couldn't care less." "As long as you keep cherishing me as you always have, that's all I need." "Ugh... Th... That's... that's right.... B... But lately... I... I've been possessed by a demon." "Of course, my original purpose... I will never... never forget." "I will... I will see it through." "Seiban Kozō is your lifelong sworn enemy, so as you requested before, I've resolved to have your vengeance carried out in the most terrifying... most satisfying way where no one will find out, and right now, in utmost secrecy, I'm pressing ahead with preparations in this house's basement but......"

“Oh!... Really...”

“It’s true, I tell you. Though it’ll take two... two or three years or so. It’s going to be an arduous process…” “I’m glad. I’ll wait in eager anticipation.” “But... here’s the thing. Lately... on top of that... another... another separate purpose... b-began taking root in my heart. Th-The more I tried to impose that purpose... the more that feeling intensified... swelled stronger... until I... I couldn’t endure a single day longer.”

“Oh. And what sort of thing is this ‘other purpose’?” “I... I... wanted to truly make you mine.” “Ah…” Mr. Todoroki shed tears like a waterfall and pressed both hands to his face. Kureha instinctively leapt back, took a nearby chair as a small shield, and laughed coldly. “Oh. You’re such a fool.” “I’m still not yours.” “What more could you possibly ask of me now…” “U... Uh... Even if it’s a lie... O... Oh... Just pretend to be my wife... and serve me...”

“Oh. You dreadful man. You’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you?” “You dreadful man.” “So you’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you?” Mr. Todoroki slid down from the chaise longue with a scraping sound and planted both hands flat on the floor to support himself. He bowed repeatedly like a beggar. “Th... That’s right. “Ta... Thinking you’d save these feelings of mine...” Kureha, still clinging to the back of the chair, leaned back as if helpless and let out a shrill laugh. “Hohohohohohohohoho. What a strange man you are.” “Hohohohohohohoho…”

Even as the electric lights went out amidst that laughter and plunged the theater into total darkness, the laughter persisted—now seductive, now eerie, now mysterious, then suddenly dissolving into stifled snickers—continuing to bewitch the entire audience. Gradually, that laughter faded into the distance—lonely and sorrowful—until it abruptly ceased. With a sudden flare, the stage brightened as Act Two’s second scene began. Kureha had vanished. In a dark morning coat with striped trousers and white waistcoat, Mr. Todoroki sat alone in the swivel chair before his office desk, exhaling smoke from his gold-tipped cigarette while watching the large clock before him mark 1:25. Through the window with its left curtain drawn, lightning flickered incessantly beyond the glass, revealing a cherry tree in full verdant leaf. Before that flickering light appeared the masked Seiban Kozō, rapping rhythmically against the windowpane.

When Mr. Todoroki stood up and went to open it, Seiban Kozō—with both legs bound like sticks and a pistol in one gloved hand—entered. “Hahaha, you kept your promise well.” Mr. Todoroki gave the prepared check to Seiban Kozō. “Next time, come in boldly through the front entrance in broad daylight. Nighttime is actually a nuisance.” “Don’t you dare pull any underhanded tricks.” “I am also Todoroki Kuzō. You need to be kept on a loose leash for a while longer. Today is an exception, but from now on I’ll give you five hundred yen each month. You can rest assured it’ll hold for at least two or three years.”

“So when exactly do you plan to dispose of me, huh?” “That remains to be seen. A device to douse your head with kerosene, set it ablaze, and drive you mad to death has nearly been completed in the basement of this house—my newly invented spectacle… an attraction that surpasses the Grand Guignol. I intended to use you for its inaugural event, but…” “What a considerate notion. But let me make this clear—I’m always the main attraction. If the opening act isn’t you or your daughter, I won’t have it.”

“Very well. But we still don’t have any spectators. We need at least twenty or thirty members who can pay over a thousand yen each—otherwise I won’t recoup what I’ve invested in you so far. Just don’t let your guard down.”

“Hahaha. That’s a complaint I should be making.” “As long as you have money, I need to keep you alive.” “I’m not senile enough to get my hand caught in my own cash box yet… Hah!” “Don’t complain and get out of here.” “I’m sleepy.” Mr. Todoroki tightly closed the window through which Seiban Kozō had exited, surveyed the footprints on the floor, and—while lighting a cigar and pacing about deep in thought—caught the faint sound of an electric bell,

“Hmm? Is that the telephone?” “Is that the telephone?”

Muttering to himself, he went out into the hallway. In her uncanny attire—a large white round chignon adorned with a jade hairpin, crimson underrobe, black sheer long-sleeved kimono, silver-threaded obi sash, white tabi socks, and felt sandals—Kureha emerged from the left door. She noticed the bizarre footprints traced each one back to the window ledge before returning peered into the checkbook on the desk nodded bit her lip hard scanned the room while deep in thought suddenly clapped her hands together with a *pop* smiled sweetly then—glancing back at the entrance door with cruel eyes—swiftly took up the dagger-shaped knife from the desk and hid it in her obi At that very moment Mr Todoroki returned from finishing his phone call calmly closed the door behind him froze upon facing Kureha standing there.

“Wh... What... What are you doing here at this hour... Do you need something...”

“Yes. “Today… I have come to hear your response regarding the matter I requested this afternoon.” “Is this about wanting to marry Midori?” “Yes… From your perspective, it may seem as trivial a matter as a caged bird longing to escape its cage… But I—I’ve suddenly found myself desperate to put right the mistaken life I’ve led until now.”

“No... That’s absurd... You don’t even know my feelings...”

“Hoho. You’re angry now, aren’t you? Hoho. As I’ve said countless times, I fully understand your intentions through all these long years up until today. But... I too am a living, breathing human being, you know. I’m not some dog or cat born as your doll from the very beginning, you know. I’ve grown thoroughly sick of this mistaken, unnatural way I’ve been coddled until now.” “Kkh... Do as you damn well please. Idiot. Don’t you understand you’re alive thanks to me?”

"So you absolutely refuse to permit it..." "If I say no, it's no…"

With that retort, he sat down in the swivel chair and began tidying his desk. "Oh? The letter opener's missing. The sheath is right here... Don't you know anything about this..." "I don't know a thing about it. Such an item..." "That blade's a top-grade Trade-made piece. Sharper than a surgeon's scalpel—dangerous to leave unaccounted for. Ought to keep it sheathed..." "Very well then. I shall marry Miss Midori without fail. I'll most certainly have her sing lullabies in this very house."

“……………………” “No matter what you say, I will absolutely never permit such cruelty as expelling Miss Midori!” “D-do as you... d-damn please... Y-you defective... c-c-crippled... stupid old fool...!” “Now... It’s all right... isn’t it? Come now... I’ve... I’ve reached marriageable age...” As she spoke these words from behind Mr. Todoroki’s swivel chair, she pressed her cheek against him with feigned affection while drawing the dagger from her obi. Concealing it behind her pale arm, she brought the blade near his chest before suddenly gripping it with both hands and plunging it in with full force.

“Gah... Wha... What’re you... Gah... Ugh!”

At that moment, from outside the glass window, Seiban Kozō peered in with his masked face. The lightning grew increasingly fierce. Kureha avoided Mr. Todoroki’s hands—still clawing at empty air—as she meticulously wiped the cross-shaped hilt of the embedded blade with a handkerchief, retrieved Seiban Kozō’s threatening letter from the lowest desk drawer, concealed one sheet after returning it to its place, and repeatedly breathed onto the drawer’s surface to fog lingering fingerprints before painstakingly wiping them away. Mid-task, she heard a *tap-tap* against the windowpane, jolted upright, and whirled around.

Outside the window, Seiban Kozō removed his mask, baring white teeth as he narrowed his eyes into a grin and gestured commandingly for her to open it. With trembling hands, Kureha took the pistol from the drawer, wrapped it in her underrobe sleeve, approached with her finger resting on the trigger, then twisted the window latch open using the same sleeve. Seiban Kozō remained standing outside, still grinning as he lowered his voice. “Miss Kureha. “You’re as beautiful as ever.” “……………………”

“With this, I’m a fan who’s staked my very life on you.” “No matter what dangers I’ve faced, I’ve never missed a single one of your plays, and I’ve collected over a thousand bromide photos of you.” “Haha.”

“……………………” “But you don’t need to worry.” “There’s no helpin’ it… See, I…” “……………………” “I’m tellin’ ya…” “You might’ve already guessed, but I go way back with you and that Mr. Todoroki.” “That bastard Kuzō—the one who used me as his errand boy to have your parents killed—well, I’ve got an old score to settle with him.” “Just now, he hands me two thousand yen and scampers off… but that rat’s way of payin’ was too damn clean, see.” “Got suspicious he might snitch to the cops, so I called him back from a public phone down the road—said there was more business. But when I doubled back, the front door he promised to leave open? Wouldn’t budge.” “Thought it was fishy, came ’round here to check… ended up seein’ the whole show… Hehe… Really, you’ve got nothin’ to fret about.” “Miss Kureha.” “Since you went and did exactly what I was fixin’ to do myself, I oughta thank you proper.” “Thanks to you, all my loose ends got tied up real neat-like.” “Heheh… Much obliged, ma’am.”

“……………………” “Heheh...” “So even if they nab me, I won’t breathe a word about tonight’s business.” “Every last thing you’ve done—I’ll shoulder it all.” “Not like this worthless carcass could handle less than a hundred nooses anyway. Hahaha!” “……………………”

Kureha dropped the pistol, staggered backward and steadied herself, then clutched both sleeves to her chest and stared intently at Seiban Kozō’s face.

“Hahaha. “In return, Miss... If by any chance I manage to escape safely... somewhere, even just once... please listen to what’s in my heart... will you…?” “……………………”

Seiban Kozō muttered like a prayer to God, his head still bowed. The sound of distant thunder…. "But that might be too good for the likes of me." "So if I do get nabbed, taking on your sins will be my one and only pleasure." “Heheh.” “A heart like mine… ain’t something anyone can understand ’cept a woman like you.” “……………………” Seiban Kozō wiped away his tears for a moment and grinned slyly.

“Heheh. “And then... “I know this has been one long, clingy spiel of mine, but tomorrow morning, make sure to sleep in as late as you can—think of it as offering some incense for my sake at least. “We can’t have Todoroki Kuzō’s corpse being discovered too soon. “You’ll have to go to the bank to receive the money, you see. “You got that? “I’m counting on you.”

As he spoke, his figure vanished into the darkness, leaving only his cheerful voice behind. "...Whoa there... You'd better leave that window wide open as it is. If you shut it tight, a noose'll end up 'round your neck. Hahahahaha..."

Soon came the scattered pattering of rain... an intense flash of lightning...

After seeing him off, Kureha let out a sigh of relief. Then, with a thorny smile playing on her lips, she firmly wiped the entrance door handle with her sleeve, made her way to center stage under the bluish footlights, and blinked her large eyes rapidly in feigned surprise as she surveyed the entire audience....then...from the ceiling space behind her, a pure white damask curtain—apparently brand new—smoothly descended, veiling the entire stage like mist.

“Hihihihihihihihihihohohohohohohohohahahahaha…” Kureha’s bright, bottomlessly cheerful laughter rippled through the packed venue, making every soul tremble.

Abruptly, from a corner of the venue, a low yet piercing, panicked voice arose.

“It’s a play! It’s a play! “It’s just part of the act! “Stop trembling! “Steady now… Keep the stage steady… Ah— “Damn it damn it! “Cerebral anemia! Cerebral anemia! “Someone… come quick…!” The young man’s voice tightened the venue’s atmosphere with even greater intensity.

However, there was not even a single person who turned to look in the direction of that voice. The venue had turned cold and solid, like a giant floral ice sculpture packed with thousands of people. Amidst this, Kureha’s laughter once again began to flash and pierce through splendidly, proudly. “Hohohohohoho... Hahahahaha… How does this strike you, ladies and gentlemen… have you grasped it? It was I who killed Todoroki Kuzō. It was I who received such overwhelming patronage from you all and was doted upon so dearly by Todoroki Kuzō. Hohohohoho... Hahahahaha…”

"...As for the true reason I killed him... I must beg your pardon, but kindly reconsider tonight's play from the first act once more. I trust you, our kind patrons of this theater's detective plays, will swiftly discern the truth." "...I was the eldest son born to my father, Amagi Ryūsen, in his old age. And even now at nineteen years of age, I remain a boy named Amagi Mitsue." "Hahaha... Hohohoho... My biological father Ryūsen was an old-fashioned man, you see. There existed this superstition they spoke of—that an elderly parent's only child would grow up safely if raised as the opposite sex... girls as boys... boys as girls. So he deliberately registered me at the town office as a girl named Mitsue. Raised entirely as a girl while growing older, I gradually became... uncertain whether I was male or female myself. My voice, my appearance... even my heart turned womanly through and through." "Even as I speak these words now, I imagine there remain many among you who still firmly believe me to be a woman through and through." "Hohohohohoho... Hahahahahaha…"

“However, it was around this time that my heart—buried as it had been in these feminine habits—began awakening as a man before I knew it. Through tonight’s performance—as I have shown you—that persistent, perverse love of Todoroki Kuzō grew utterly unbearable to me. Solely from this irrepressible, aching desire to be united with that pure-hearted soprano Miss Midori did I commit such reckless acts, forcing all of you in the capital to trouble yourselves beyond any apology I could offer. And by yet another twist of fate, that merciless murderer Seiban Kozō—who had been desperately infatuated with me as a woman—loved this feminine guise so excessively that he risked his very life to cover my crimes. Thanks to this, I have survived in this world until today, allowing me to stand before you all once more in this theatrical form, my beloved audience.”

“It’s a play! It’s a play!” “Incredible... Incredible...” “Ah... unbearable...” The sighs of the entire crowd swirled like wind through a bamboo thicket for an instant before falling utterly silent again. "...But ladies and gentlemen, do lend me your ears. When I committed this grave sin, I found myself awakening as if from a dream. I became able to calmly reflect upon myself. Having awakened as a man, I now began awakening to a man’s conscience—this I must declare. For one of my nature—neither demon nor beast, nor snake nor bird—to love that goddess-like pure Miss Midori is an error. My bloodstained breath must not cast even the faintest shadow upon Miss Midori’s unclouded countenance. Having deeply realized that these putrid fingers of mine must never—not even slightly—touch Miss Midori’s immaculate flesh, I conceived this play solely to make her comprehend my feelings, if only a fraction. ...Thus when this play concludes, all I possess stands prepared to be received by Miss Midori through my legal advisor as a parting token—this I solemnly declare. ...I believe Miss Midori will assuredly accept these sentiments. And I trust [they] will wholeheartedly endeavor to mitigate the criminal charges against that pitiful murderous fiend, Seiban Kozō."

“It’s a play… It’s a play…” “Hohohoho… Is this not precisely as I declared?” “This world in its entirety constitutes but theater, does it not…?” “Thus I too—having been granted leave to stage this final performance—shall now draw closed the curtain upon this supremely nonsensical mystery drama and grotesque spectacle that has threaded through my entire existence—this I solemnly avow.” “...For I found myself utterly incapable of sustaining such artificial theatrics as mounting the gallows hand-in-hand with Seiban Kozō—this I solemnly avow.” “For I had resolved henceforth to exist solely in service of my own truth—this I solemnly avow.”

"...My cherished audience... Though parting brings such sorrow, Amakawa Kureha must now disappear utterly and eternally from your sight." "...Now then, dear patrons... farewell... may fortune grace your days." From beneath the dewy bangs of Amakawa Kureha—her head bowed low in profound obeisance—teardrops like liquid pearls cascaded downward, their crystalline trails shimmering in the footlights' glare.

“It’s a play… It’s a play…” “...Y-you idiot... This isn’t a play... It’s not a play!... Stop it!...”

Suddenly, a single yukata-clad young man who had cried out leapt from the left side of the front-row seats onto the high wooden stage and began desperately scrambling to climb up. Having coolly glanced sidelong at this, Amakawa Kureha—without panic or fuss—reached into her inner kimono fold and took out a gleaming nickel-plated five-shot old-fashioned pistol. She pressed the glistening muzzle firmly against the center of her white, Fuji-like forehead and closed her eyes tightly—in the midst of what seemed like... ...A thunderous report...

Kureha, her beautiful half-face now splashed crimson, smiled gently and pressed her hands together. Leaving rainbow-like blood spatter on the white curtain behind her, she collapsed before the footlights.

With a metallic clang, the yukata-clad man who had finally crawled up from the audience seats latched onto Kureha's body as if leaping forward. With his neatly parted hair now disheveled, he shouted in a tragic voice toward the front. “Da-Somebody come here! This isn’t a play!”

That was Officer Fuzuki of Ōmori Police Station. From within that chaos, four or five men led by Manager Kasa rushed over from beside and beneath the curtain, and without ceremony lifted Kureha’s body to carry it off toward the left.

Accompanied by the chilling toll of a bell, the crimson main curtain began descending quietly from above. At its center, embroidered in massive golden characters so dazzling they hurt the eyes, read: "To Miss Amakawa Kureha" and "Danbara Manpei." Thunderous applause and roaring cheers swirled madly through the auditorium. There were even those who blew shrill, feverish whistles. Then like a squirming swarm of maggots scrambling over one another, they began tumbling and jostling toward the entrance in a snowslide-like collapse.

“It’s a play… It’s a play…” “This is realism pushed to its absolute limit!” “Incredible… Simply incredible… What profound drama!” “...Idiot... That’s not it at all. This is a grotesque psychological thriller, I tell you! A grotesque psychological thriller!” “Ah! Magnificent!”

“That was splendid!” “I never thought it would go that far.” And then once more, as if suddenly remembering, they turned back from all directions and sent forth a tempest of applause.

However, among that great crowd, there were just two people who did not applaud. They were the Ema siblings seated in the center of the front-row special seats. The Ema siblings remained there like fixed puppet envoys, their expressionless eyes opened wide in unison, staring fixedly at the center of the stage where the curtain had fallen. Even after all figures in the entire hall had completely vanished, they still sat with stiffened cheeks—not blinking once nor moving a muscle—continuing to stare intently at the crimson curtain.