Pathway to Japanese Literature

By an unknown assailant, Detective Drama King Assassinated Actress Amakawa Kureha, now orphaned, wept and vowed revenge. A Macabre Tragedy Laden with Secrets Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō (44), resident of Ōmori District Sannō XXX-chōme—renowned as owner of the Gofukubashi Theater (a Secessionist-style five-story modern building towering over the Mokuhana crossroads along Tokyo's Gofukubashi tram line), pioneer of Japan's first detective horror plays, and guardian of contemporary rare femme fatale actress Miss Amakawa Kureha—was discovered around 10 o'clock this morning to have been fatally stabbed through the heart from the front with a sharp British-made double-edged paper knife he customarily used at his desk. This occurred in his private study adjoining the entrance hall and parlor of his similarly Secessionist-style residence built on Sannō XXX-chōme Heights in Ōmori, where he had been working past midnight after privately attending celebrations for the Norwegian monarch's birthday at that country's legation on the third instant (August Shōwa X). Upon receiving emergency notification, over a dozen personnel—including Prosecutor Kaihara from Tokyo District Court, Examining Magistrate Atami, Chief Toyama of the First Investigation Division with forensic officers from Metropolitan Police Headquarters, and Assistant Inspector Watanuki with police physicians from Ōmori Station—were dispatched to conduct on-site investigations. However, despite Miss Amakawa Kureha—who had rushed to the corpse’s side first per maid Ichida Ichiko’s report as discoverer—wailing and swearing vengeance, they could not easily pinpoint any likely suspects. They are currently conducting a full-scale investigation with the said residence serving as the investigation headquarters.

Incidentally, while Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō’s registered domicile remained Hase 203 in Kamakura Town, Kanagawa Prefecture, not a soul in the vicinity knew anything of his former life. Around Taishō 10, after years of wandering through provincial backwaters with a three-year-old girl—the present Miss Amakawa Kureha, born Amagi Mie (19), officially registered at XXXX-banchi in Mitsuke Town, Iwata District, Shizuoka Prefecture—he had descended upon Tokyo, plunged into stock speculation, and swiftly amassed a vast fortune. As Miss Mie blossomed into a celebrated beauty, he cherished her like a precious gemstone. For her sake, he erected what passed for modest luxury in Ōmori—a residence where they cohabited—and escorted her nearly daily to theatrical performances until he himself caught the producing bug. When the Gofukubashi Theater succumbed to economic woes in Shōwa 5’s springtide, he’d readily acquiesced to manager Kasa Keinosuke’s urgings and purchased the establishment. Thus began his troupe starring Amagi Mie—now reborn as actress Amakawa Kureha—while installing upstart mystery writer Ema Chōsaku in a spare room to churn out scripts. His vision of transplanting Parisian Grand Guignol thrills onto Japanese stages initially bore fruit through three successful runs before withering—sustained only by a niche following as mainstream audiences grew disenchanted. This financial hemorrhage left him crippled just as tragedy struck, entombing all motives for the crime within impenetrable shadow. With no will apparent, theater rights seemed destined for Miss Kureha’s inheritance—a development that only heightened public pity for this newly orphaned ingénue stripped of her father figure, left adrift in a merciless world.

A Worthy Rival Lost

Danbara Kōgyō-ō Comments "That's unexpected." "What a tragedy." "For me, it’s as though I’ve lost my only worthy rival." "Far from it." "I can't accept him being dismissed as some self-taught upstart." "To construct that type of play to such an extent isn’t something achievable through ordinary skill alone." "I too had privately taken my hat off to him." "Originally, Mr. Todoroki was a man of rugged vigor, physical strength, and confidence—traits unbefitting a wealthy man—and even during his time in the stock market, he was reputed to be an indomitable figure." “Even after shifting to the theater world—where the nature of the business meant frequent harassment from various gangsters—he would personally meet with them each time and drive them off through swashbuckling tactics, remaining an unyieldingly bold figure until the end—what a loss.” "Are we speaking of Miss Amakawa Kureha's acting?" "That is a remarkable talent." "There’s no one else like her." "In any case, I don’t want that play to be stopped." "After all, they exist only in France and Japan." "It could be called the pride of Greater Tokyo, after all." "..."

On August 4th around 4 PM, within the Todoroki residence’s extravagantly luxurious parlor—encircled by oak thickets and poplar groves glittering under the clear sky in a corner of Ōmori Sannō—two police officers smoking what appeared to be hospitality-provided MCC cigarettes while poring over the evening paper’s article simultaneously seemed to finish reading and raised their faces.

On August 4th around 4 PM, within the extravagantly luxurious parlor adjoining the Todoroki residence’s entrance—surrounded by oak thickets and poplar groves glittering under a clear sky in a corner of Ōmori Sannō—two police officers smoking what appeared to be hospitality-provided MCC cigarettes while poring over this evening paper’s article had apparently finished reading and raised their faces simultaneously. Both were officers from Ōmori Station, but one—Inomura—was a burr-headed, round-faced man. A large, obese, bearded figure whose uniform strained at the seams—marking his veteran officer status—he occupied his space with practiced ease. Seated facing him was Fumizuki: a pale, emaciated rookie whose ill-fitting uniform hung loosely on his frame, his abundant hair neatly parted. Every inch the nervous type, he picked up the evening paper he had just discarded and began meticulously rereading it from the beginning.

Officer Inomura smirked upon seeing the young officer's earnest attitude. He vigorously stroked his stubble-covered jaw, glanced briefly at his wristwatch, then leaned back into the ill-fitting damask armchair and released a prolonged yawn. "Ah... They announced this place as investigation headquarters, but reporters ain't showin' up at all." "It should be about time they come for the morning edition's article." "The judicial director planted me here to fake this as headquarters—figurin' he'd shoo off those nuisance reporters since he couldn't handle 'em himself. Guess they sniffed it out? Nose like bloodhounds these days, I tell ya." "These days reporters got sharp instincts, I tell ya."

“The judicial director must regard this case as being of utmost importance.”

“Of course it’s serious. The victim being who he was, and they’re convinced there’s some deep secret behind the case.” “Even so, isn’t the body of the newspaper article far too simple?” “Nah. We ain’t let them reporters catch a whiff of any such airs. In retaliation for those nosy bastards prying into unnecessary matters before, we’re making them choke on absolute secrecy now. A few eager-beaver reporters showed up, but with the evening edition’s deadline looming, they couldn’t dig up anything more and scurried back in a panic—that’s all there was to it. But considering that, they’ve dug up quite a bit. Seems like there’s plenty here that could help our side.”

“Oh... So beyond this newspaper article, nothing else is known?” “Don’t be daft. We’ve still got plenty of major secrets up our sleeves.”

Officer Fumizuki’s eyes glittered. “Um—well—I was just emergency-summoned here—so I don’t know anything yet.” “Actually—the moment I arrived—the Chief told me I could leave already—so I’ve been tagging along after you in confusion.” “Wanna see…the crime scene…”

“Yes. Please do—”

“You absolutely must not utter a word.” “To anyone—” “Yes… I won’t say a thing.”

“Making wild assumptions and goin’ off-script’s a bad idea.” “Um... Yes... So I just need to play dumb then?” “...Yeah... Rookies don’t know the investigative methods we cops’ve honed over decades—they either fixate on useless theories or charge around blind and wreck the whole damn case.” He jerked his chin. “C’mere. Sittin’ around bored stiff ain’t teachin’ ya nothin’. I’ll show ya what matters.”

“Thank you very much.” The two of them quietly left the parlor unarmed and entered Mr. Todoroki’s study at the end of the adjacent hallway. True to its grandeur, the approximately ten-tsubo 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, new wooden desk telephone, beach umbrella-style electric lamp, square wooden-framed winding wall clock, futurist-style nude giant statue frame, silk-cord oscillating fan, and white linen curtains draping a wooden carved bed embedded in the wall—all arranged in layered opulence. Beyond the immaculately polished thick flint glass windows, countless overlapping oak leaves bathed in the afternoon sun streamed in with a dazzling glare. The clamoring cries of cicadas were muffled by the thick, opulent windowpanes into distant whispers; whether due to the walls' thickness, the heat too felt scarcely present. The eerie atmosphere wrought by cutting-edge modern science filled every corner of the room with a piercing intensity.

“It’s remarkably cool inside this house.”

“There must be a cooling system somewhere... Now look here.” “The victim was sitting in this large swivel chair in front of the desk.” “This.” “As you can see, there’s a bit of blood on the back of the chair.” “It appears that last night, while Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō was working late at his desk, the perpetrator attacked from behind and stabbed him straight through the heart.” “Quite a skillful job they did.”

“The fact they didn’t use a pistol suggests the perpetrator might’ve had some shameful secret to hide, I tell ya.” “Well. What could it be?” “What do you suppose it could be?” “In any case, he ain’t no ordinary one. “He knows the vital spot, after all.” “The murder weapon...” “The murder weapon’s been confiscated to the station now, but as reported in the papers, it was a sharp, thin double-edged knife that was on this desk.” "I saw the actual state of it stuck in the corpse too, you know." "It had remained lodged through from below the left breast to the back." “Look here – right behind this clump of blood, there’s a small mark where the knife went in, see?”

“Isn’t the stabbing method excessively violent?”

“Of course it is. Even a vicious criminal shouldn’t be able to stab this deep in a surprise attack. And the corpse’s expression showed utter shock...” “Oh? Does the expression from when someone’s killed really stay on the body? They often write about that in detective novels...” “Stay? Not a chance. In my experience, that death expression fades away—after an hour passes, there’s no trace left. The deathly look I saw on Mr. Todoroki was completely slack—eyes half-closed, mouth hanging open—as he slumped forward peering under the desk. What I mean is the posture of the limbs. That startled shock and agonized pose of grabbing at empty air stayed frozen rigid, propped up by the chair’s armrest. We showed it to the newspaper reporters after laying him out on the bed over there, you know.”

“What about the fingerprints on the knife…” "There weren't any. The perpetrator seems to have worn gloves. But there were even larger footprints. They’ve already been wiped away, but they came in through that northern-facing window on the far left over there. Now, around here last night, there was lightning starting a little before two o’clock, followed by about an hour of fierce downpour, but those footprints show no signs of being wet from the rain. Since the footprints are covered in dust, it follows that their owner must have entered through that window between approximately 12:30 AM and 1:40 AM. Now, those footprints were rather peculiar too, so we all examined them in various ways, you see. In conclusion, they must have worn something like an inner tube-like rubber bag over tabi socks or similar footwear, then tightly wrapped it all around with what appears to be sturdy hemp thread—resulting in a rather cumbersome, large exterior. And we concluded that they must’ve prepared it in the darkness around the corner of this house—inferred from those hemp thread scraps left there… you see.”

“That doesn’t seem like much of a clue.” “In that case,” “Nah. They’re usually items discarded in suburban garbage dumps or such places. Seems they put some real thought into it. After all, they were breaking into the detective theater boss’s place, you see.” “Ha ha...” “The first to discover was the housemaid… Um… What was her name...” “Ichida Ichiko, right? She’s still just a girl of seventeen or eighteen, but... Wasn’t she the one who greeted us earlier… Didn’t notice… Hmm. That Ichida Ichiko claims it was after 10:30 this morning, but the exact timing remains unclear. As part of her morning duties, she knocked on the door she’d just entered to wake her master Mr. Todoroki—but no matter how many times she knocked or called out, there was no response. The room felt unnervingly quiet, so she got a spare key from the kitchen maid Matsui Yone and opened the door. When she suddenly saw the scene inside, she let out an ‘Ah!’ and shut it immediately—clinging to the handle as she collapsed from cerebral anemia.” “Her colleague Matsui Yone helped her regain consciousness. Well, when Yone peeked inside herself, she apparently let out an involuntary scream.” “Moreover, this was no mere fainting spell.” “Screaming like a madwoman, she ran up to the second floor and reported to the actress Amakawa Kureha... That’s what really happened before those newspaper articles got hold of it.”

“And then that Amakawa Kureha crying and going on about revenge... Do tell.” “Ah. “That one?” “That story about the current kitchen maid Matsui got leaked, mixed with a fair dose of newspaper-style fabrications.” “First off, they say Miss Kureha didn’t even shed a tear.”

“Huh.” “She didn’t cry.” “Yeah. It was such an utterly dramatic scene that Matsui Yoneko—who stood watching nearby—said she nearly fainted...... At that very moment, Miss Kureha happened to be settled in her second-floor room dressed in full outdoor attire, but upon hearing Yoneko’s report, they say she gently closed her eyes and listened through to the end without moving a single eyebrow.” Then she turned ghostly pale and quietly stood up, soundlessly descending the stairs while carefully avoiding the still-collapsed Ichida Ichiko, before disappearing into Mr. Todoroki’s study. After Matsui Yoneko—fearing another fainting spell—followed her in, Miss Kureha approached the corpse without so much as glancing back, quietly comparing again and again the hilt of the dagger embedded in the bloodied white vest with Mr. Todoroki’s deathly visage……

"That’s incredible." "Yeah." "Truly worthy of being called a detective play actress." "The sort who'd draw cheers straight from the gallery."

“Don’t be ridiculous...” “Then she gazed at the strange footprints stretching from beneath her feet to the entry window, respectfully hunched her shoulders, and slightly bowed her head as if seeing off Mr. Todoroki’s departing soul.” “Huh.” “That’s rather odd.” “Well listen close. Then she retreated two or three paces with steady steps to face Mr. Todoroki’s corpse, pressed her palms together, closed her eyes, and prayed in an almost inaudible yet clear voice—‘Mr. Todoroki... I was mistaken...’”

“I was mistaken…” “Hmm…‘This vengeance…I will surely exact it with my own hands…’”…After saying only this, she bowed once more with meticulous formality, then glanced at Matsui Yoneko standing beside her. In an ordinary voice: “You. “Please notify Manager Kasa and the Ōmori Police Station. “The meal can wait until later…” she said with a lonely smile. “Whaaat?!” “What a remarkable woman she is.” “And yet so young…” “Ha ha.” “Impressed now?”

“I must say, I’m impressed.” “First of all, could she have truly discerned the truth of the crime in just that brief span?” “If she can make such pronouncements, then she hardly needs to rely on the police—having formed her own individual perspective…”

“Ahaha. What’re you on about… This is her handiwork—a publicity stunt.”

“Publicity stunt… What do you mean?”

“Pfft. You need to learn a bit more about how the world works. People living the actor’s life are no different from diet members, I tell you. No matter how unnatural an opportunity they seize, striving and striving to promote their own names is their very instinct. They can’t get enough publicity just from the stage or parliament. The saying goes, ‘They won’t get up from a fall without turning a profit’—this has become their very instinct. And they’ve engraved in their hearts that those with the strongest such instincts will make names for themselves.”

“I’m surprised.” “Is it truly that ruthless?” “Proof over theory.” “Amakawa Kureha wouldn’t let such a perfect opportunity slip through her fingers.” “Lo and behold, the newspapermen have fallen hook, line, and sinker for Miss Kureha’s performance—writing articles as if Mr. Todoroki had been killed solely for Miss Kureha’s publicity—but we police officers absolutely mustn’t be dazzled by such theatrics or lines.” “This isn’t some third-rate detective novel—if we start factoring in Amakawa Kureha’s prayerful words where she’s playing the great detective, we’re bound to make some colossal mistake.” “Nobody’s going to pay it any mind.”

“I see. Understood.” “Even so, there still seem to be many things we don’t understand.” “Ask whatever questions you have.” “Since I was present at the scene, I can answer immediately to the best of my knowledge.” “First of all… there’s the matter of…” “How is it that the victim didn’t realize the culprit had opened that window and entered…?” “Hmm.” “Damn right… That’s the most crucial real-world issue here.” “At the same time, the judicial chiefs and prosecutors are scratching their heads over it too.” “As you can see, the window latch is a twisted brass bar, and there’s not a single fingerprint around that window frame other than Mr. Todoroki’s.” “Moreover, that they’re layered thickly all over that particular window makes it damn strange.” “There’s no way to explain it except by imagining some exceptionally special… an extremely rare case.”

“Hmm. Could Mr. Todoroki have forgotten to fasten it after checking the weather or something?” “Not a chance. The victim was extremely cautious by nature—when having the maid bring water before bed, he’d make her fasten every lock, then apparently check them himself afterward. Meticulous security measures.”

“So are you suggesting a household member unlocked and let the perpetrator enter?”

“In other words, that’s how it must have happened… The reason is none other than this.” In the top right drawer of this desk lay a pistol—an old-fashioned nickel-plated five-shot revolver, likely purchased long ago as the latest model during the Meiji era. There were about a hundred unused bullets, and given their signs of daily maintenance, it became clear that the victim, Mr. Todoroki, had long been gripped by some sort of persecution complex. If we suppose someone bore him a grudge, this enmity would not only date back as far as the pistol itself but also be severe enough to require such daily vigilance—this much we could surmise. “Now consider—if the person Mr. Todoroki feared made him open that window with his own hands to let them in, yet he neither reached for his pistol nor resisted... then that individual must have been truly terrifying to Mr. Todoroki.”

"Could there truly exist a person in this world with such terrifying coercive power? If the victim had been aware it was someone who might kill him, wouldn’t that make it all the more so?" "That’s exactly it. Because there’s a vague sense of some major contradiction there, you see. The prosecutors and judicial chiefs were quite stumped, but they soon resolved that contradiction."

“Hmm... How did that happen?” “Don’t you get it?” “I really don’t understand. I can only think of this as a terrifying incident beyond imagination. This is…” “Nah. It wasn’t that big of a case, I tell you.” “Huh? How did you know?” “When we checked all the drawers of that desk, a threatening letter came out from the bottom right drawer.” “Hmm. How many letters were found?” “Well… there was only one. I didn’t get a good look myself, but when I peeked over the judicial chief’s shoulder, it was just a regular sealed postcard with some clumsy chicken scratch scrawled haphazardly across it. The address was simply written as ‘Omori Sanno, Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō,’ with no sender’s address, date, or legible postmark to speak of. It was decent enough for a time, but these days the post office’s work has gotten downright sloppy. The judicial chief was downright furious. He said they’d have the authorities investigate every collection and delivery office across the country with unclear postmarks, but…”

“What sort of things were written inside?” “It just said this: ‘March 7, 1921... This isn’t some play...’” “March 7, 1921... This isn’t some play...” “Yeah. That’s right. Then we summoned that girl who was crying—or whatever she was doing—since everyone sees her as his daughter anyway—that girl Amakawa Kureha, formerly known as Amagi Mitsue. When we showed her the threatening letter, she claimed not a shred of memory about this handwriting.” “She couldn’t make heads or tails of what the message meant either.” “She also said she had no recollection of any such letters arriving before.”

“I see… So I did want to touch upon Miss Kureha’s earlier prayer incantation.” “If she’d let slip something useful…” “Yeah, the judicial chief had brushed on that.” “Right when Detective Umehara—interrogatin’ the maid—gave his preliminary report on that matter… And whaddya know? ‘That was just me spoutin’ nonsense in frustration,’ she says—‘what could a foolish woman like me possibly understand?’” “‘As for prayin’ toward where the culprit fled… Well, there’s this superstition from foreign plays—that makin’ such gestures would fluster some far-off villain into blunderin’… So I…’ She went crimson explainin’ herself.” “Means it was all for show.” “Can’t fault ’em—publicity’s their bread ’n’ butter.” “The judicial chief ’n’ prosecutor were grinnin’ wry-like too.”

“Is that all?” "Nah... Then Miss Kureha started saying this kind of thing. 'I cannot state definitively, but I believe Mr. Todoroki had been acting rather restless these past four or five days.' 'No matter what difficulties he had fallen into before, he would always smile warmly and speak to me when he saw me, but lately he has shown no such behavior.' 'He would just make a tense, gloomy, nervous face, and even when I tried to say something, he would only blink rapidly before fleeing into his room.' 'Of course, I cannot claim to understand the reason for this, but all matters related to Mr. Todoroki's theater and financial affairs are solely managed by Mr. Kasa Keinosuke, the manager of the Gofukubashi Theater.' 'Speaking of March 7th in the tenth year of Taisho, that was when I was three years old, so I have no memory of anything from that time.' 'When I was three years old, due to certain circumstances, I was taken from my elderly parents’ care and came under Mr. Todoroki’s guardianship. Since then, for these past twenty years until now, Mr. Todoroki has labored in various ways to raise me while remaining unmarried—though I have no knowledge of the detailed circumstances,' she skillfully evaded."

“Isn’t she hiding something?” “There doesn’t seem to be anything like that. Theater owners ain’t usually saints—they’re livin’ all kinds of messy lives by default. But when we piece together what Miss Kureha, the maids, and manager Kasa Keinosuke been sayin’, this victim here’s one hell of an exception. In Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō’s case, his daily life was remarkably simple and clear. The testimony states he absolutely never engaged in any irregularities—like messin’ with theater actresses or prowlin’ red-light districts. He was a full-time bachelor who seemed to find no joy ’cept promotin’ his ward Mitsue as the world’s top detective play star.”

“Huh? “Interesting.” “Could such an unconventional man and woman truly maintain a completely guileless life while living alone together?” “Ahaha.” “You’ve got quite the suspicious mind.” “Well—come over here.” “Let’s discuss this properly.”

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

“This is some fine tobacco.” “I wonder if each stick costs as much as salmon roe?” “Wouldn’t it be about twenty sen?”

“No.” “It wouldn’t cost that much.” “If you pay twenty sen, you can get two cigars.”

The two men began blowing cobalt-colored smoke in mismatched rhythms.

“You suspect there’s a sexual relationship between Amakawa Kureha and Todoroki Kyūzō, don’t you?”

Officer Fumizuki instantly turned red but continued to smile and nod.

“Hahaha.” “You’re not one to be left in the corner either, I tell ya...” “So then... that is... does something exist?” “But as it stands now, there’s nothing suspicious at all.”

“I believe we need to suspect them sufficiently… no, more than sufficiently.” “It may well be that the core of this case lies precisely there, you see.”

“Your theory’s got merit… but listen here.” “Here’s how it is.” “When you look at their daily routine—this comes from both maids’ statements—first thing every morning at nine, the daughter Kureha’d wake up first and head to the bath.” “Early bird for an actress, ain’t she?” “Then she’d take about an hour dollin’ herself up, changin’ into her kimono before comin’ out.” “Don’t the maids lift a finger to help?”

“Yeah. Not only doesn’t she let ’em help, but she locks the bath entrance tight—won’t allow anyone in, no matter who comes. Story goes Miss Kureha knows some secret makeup method you’d call the Amakawa-style special, an’ this’s her precaution so others don’t steal it…”

“That’s the maids’ story, right?” “Right... On the other hand, if we let Miss Amakawa Kureha tell it—‘I hate others seeing my own skin more than death itself. If someone were to try seeing it even by force, I would still commit suicide...’” and already she was twisting her face hysterically, making her eyebrows twitch violently. “Hahaha.” “That’s rather extreme phrasing, don’t you think? Could it be she has some sort of tattoo on her body?”

“That might be the case… But when you see Miss Kureha emerging from the bath like that, she’s astonishingly beautiful no matter how many times you encounter her. Her lush eyebrows flow down so luxuriantly they nearly reach her hairline. Her eyelashes cluster thick like a Westerner’s. Her eyes bulge large as French dolls’—sharply upturned at the corners—with pupils black enough to frighten and whites gleaming an unnervingly clear icy blue. She outlines those eyes with corpse-like bluish-purple makeup blended like stage cosmetics, while sealing those diamond-shaped lips with pure Japanese rouge that shimmers iridescent...”

“Hahaha.” “You’re quite meticulous, aren’t you?” “The maid said so, you know… Oh! I’d nearly forgotten. "They say the nose is magnificent." "Not even a stage nobleman’s nose could rival such a magnificent one." “The maid said it’s too fine for a woman’s nose, you know.” “Hahaha... It’s because she’s a woman that she could observe in such detail.” “She apparently styles that nearly four-shaku-long hair—over a meter in length—into various traditional Japanese coiffures herself, since when left to hairdressers, the excess tresses prove unmanageable.”

“In that case, an hour for bathing isn’t long. If anything, it’s rather too short.” “Given that Kureha’s a quick-change artist extraordinaire, she apparently manages it with remarkable speed. Then these days, she emerged from the bath layered in a crimson underrobe blazing like fire beneath a blackish thin-silk long-sleeved kimono, tightly cinched with a silver obi, soundlessly carrying snow-white felt sandals—so grotesque and terrifying that her beauty gave the impression of some serpent spirit slithering out from behind a gravestone.” “They say she’s a horror play actress, but even meeting her in broad daylight sent shivers down your spine... Hahaha... This is just my personal impression, I tell ya...”

“I’d love to see that.” “Well… I’ve never actually seen a woman of that type outside my imagination.”

“Hahaha.” “She’ll be back soon enough, so take your time lookin’.” “But don’t go fallin’ for her, I tell ya.”

“……I beg your pardon… does she not wear Western clothing?”

“Yeah. Seems she does wear Western attire sometimes, but those outfits are old-fashioned things—big hats, long sleeves, not an inch of skin showing. They say it suits her right well, I tell ya.”

“Huh. “Then something just now struck me as odd—does Miss Kureha emerge suddenly in full attire from the bath chamber?” “Seems that way, I tell ya.”

“Curious.” “In that case, it would mean she doesn’t own everyday clothes at all.” “...In other words, she doesn’t change clothes after going out... like ordinary women would...”

“Hahaha.” “You’re quite meticulous yourself, I tell ya.” “Being a detective novel enthusiast, you notice the strangest things, I tell ya.” “Our investigation hasn’t reached that far yet, I tell ya.”

“That’s a shame, isn’t it? That might be the most crucial, pivotal point of all… even though…”

“Now listen well to what comes next.” Then around ten o’clock, when Miss Kureha emerged from the bath, the maid would go to rouse Master Todoroki Kyūzō—but that bastard was no ordinary layabout and wouldn’t wake for love nor money. Once they finally managed to rouse him and get him into the bath, breakfast would be served shortly after. Then around twelve or one o'clock, Manager Kasa Keinosuke would come over, and the three of them would gather to discuss business matters while drinking black tea or hot lemon. “Though sometimes they’d launch into heated debates among themselves, it seems Miss Kureha’s opinions generally carried the day.”

“What sort of man is this Manager Kasa?”

"A ruddy-faced, vigorous man in his prime—every bit as huge as me." "He’s also said to be single, I tell ya." "It all seems rather complicated, doesn’t it? "When all three executives of Gofukubashi Theater are single…"

“However, this Kasa fellow is quite the notorious playboy, I tell ya.” “And that too is of a decidedly low-class variety, I tell ya.” “He keeps messing around with unremarkable women and often comes to places like the Omori sand baths, so naturally he’s become a familiar face among our colleagues.” “When we inspected the place, he’d greet us with a ‘Well, if it isn’t you!’ sort of manner, I tell ya.” “Hahaha.” “He’s an interesting man to talk to.” “When anyone meets him for the first time at the theater, they mistake this man for the theater owner Todoroki—that’s how impressive his bearing is, I tell ya.” Once he arrived and they finished their daily business meeting, from around one or two o'clock they might go together to the theater or newspaper offices, or sometimes go separately. They’d usually return around midnight, sometimes arriving separately and sometimes together. The earliest ones would then take baths and have light suppers. “Manager Kasa would always drink beer until he got slightly tipsy, then call an automobile to return to his Marunouchi apartment… or so I’m told, but who knows.” 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 when she did, she first firmly locked her bedroom door with a key, then slid an additional bolt into place from above—after that, she wouldn’t open it for anyone. “Though it seems she takes sleeping pills just before bed, I tell ya.”

“As for Mr. Todoroki…” “After Miss Kureha says ‘goodnight,’ she’d spend thirty minutes to an hour writing letters or doing some work—always changing into a yukata then.” “Then she’d take some medicine before bed.” “Nothing unusual happened that day either?” “Nope.” “There was.” “Just one downright strange thing.” “Something… almost mystical…”

“Huh.” “When you say ‘mysterious’...” “That’s what makes it interesting.” "The maids in this house have consistently been—since the very day it was built—exactly two in number." "Despite appearances, this house isn’t particularly spacious." "The place has a mere four proper rooms, yet everything’s laid out remarkably convenient-like... Now, the longest-serving maid since its construction is the one I mentioned—Matsui Yoneko, a twenty-six-year-old plain-faced woman with a sturdy build." “This one’s a hard worker from the sticks—scrubbin’ every inch inside and out, wrestlin’ with flowerbeds... rough around the edges, but handles it all single-handed.” "More’n that, she’s got herself a burning curiosity ’bout Todoroki Kyūzō and Amakawa Kureha’s bedroom affairs. Declared right to our faces she won’t quit ’til she’s got it all figured out—a real firecracker, that one." "Comes from some village with right depraved customs, they say—carries herself like she knows every trick in the book. But damn if she hasn’t pinned down a single solid fact ’bout their relationship. Reckon she’s pouring all them spinsterly frustrations into this one mystery." “Poke at this particular sore spot, and that one starts blabbering like a brook in springtime.” “‘By no means an ordinary parent and child...’ she keeps insisting, like her life depends on it.”

“I see—that’s quite fascinating.”

“However, there’s another one now—Ichida Ichiko. Also fresh from the boondocks, just turned eighteen this year.” “Meaning she’s at that peak nosy age—barely arrived day before yesterday when old-timer Yoneko filled her ears with all the gossip.” Then when she first laid eyes on Miss Kureha, that beauty hit her like a thunderclap—left Kureha’s image seared into her retinas like some movie star’s portrait. Come nightfall, she got too spooked to step foot outside.” “Pulled the covers over her head only to see that phantom flickering behind her eyelids—left her staring wide-eyed at the dark till dawn…”

“Hahaha.” “That’s quite a vivid description.” “Nah. This ain’t no laughing matter. That girl confessed it herself.” “Now regarding last night’s incident—when the sound of the master’s study door at the far end of the hallway directly opposite the maids’ room door clanged open, she jolted awake and instinctively sat up. Peering stealthily through the keyhole, she saw the master—who she’d always heard worked in his sleepwear—wearing proper Western clothes.” “He’d just returned wearing the same black morning coat, white waistcoat, and coarse striped trousers that Ichiko herself had dusted off earlier... meaning they were identical to what this morning’s corpse had on.” “Not only that, but from behind the door at the master’s back, she glimpsed something red flicker into motion.” “It looked like a large snake flicking out its red tongue, so she startled and pulled the bedding over her head—but upon later reflection, she insists it must have been the young mistress’s furisode sleeve and the gauzy sleeve of her underrobe.” “...and she claims that while buried under her nightclothes, she heard the maids’ room clock clang... clang... striking two o’clock at that very moment, I tell ya.”

“Ah… That’s a significant implication.” “That…” “An implication? What kinda implication you talkin’ about?” “No. It’s not precisely an implication, but shouldn’t we consider that as evidence that Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō and Miss Amakawa Kureha remained in that office until such a late hour?”

“So you’re saying Amakawa Kureha killed Todoroki Kyūzō? With just those facts…” “No. While such supernatural-tinged hypotheses hold no validity here, whether these peculiar rubber tube footprints—reported moments ago—entered when Miss Kureha and Mr. Kyūzō were together, or whether their comings and goings overlapped… determining which preceded the other shall prove crucial to resolving this case.”

“Hmm.” “That’s how it naturally goes.” “But if we accept that the footprint owner entered and left before two o’clock as discussed...” “There’d be no trace of them returning after the rain began?” “Hmm. None.” “Then assuming Miss Kureha was there around two o’clock—either way after two, she alone remained by Mr. Todoroki’s side.” “Which means whoever killed Mr. Todoroki—still perfectly healthy until about two—absolutely must’ve been Miss Kureha...”

“Hahaha!” “Nah.” “Great detective, great detective.” “Exactly right. Exactly right.” “It’s an absolutely accurate account… but that’s precisely where detective novels differ from reality.” “In other words, you’re playing the great detective a bit too hard.”

“...Too much of a great detective...”

“In other words, you’re overthinking it!” “We’ve already got a solid lead on the culprit.” “Don’t waste time on what some dazed little maid claims she saw—start thinking with some common sense!”

“By common sense, you mean…” “Just listen up. “Here’s how it is. “Of course Miss Kureha insists she’s never once woken up at such an ungodly hour, done herself up all fancy-like, and gone entering Mr. Kyūzō’s room—not a single time till now.” “Well, that stands to reason.”

“Even that maid Ichida Ichiko—come to think of it now—somehow seems unable to trust her own eyes. That might’ve been a dream I saw during my groggy state… And now she’s started spouting all this vague nonsense…” “She might say that. If she were to carelessly testify, there’s no telling what Miss Kureha might do to her afterward.”

“You.” “Speculation is ill-advised.” “You’ve got to base your thinking on testimony with solid foundations...”

“Is that all?” “As for anything unusual…”

“Ah... And then there’s one more slightly unusual thing.” “It’s nothing significant, but it’ll make prime material to complicate that signature imagination of yours.” “To put it plainly… This morning, Miss Kureha apparently woke up about an hour later than usual.” “This too comes from Ichida Ichiko’s testimony, I tell ya.”

“Huh. This truly cannot be dismissed any longer.”

“Hmm. Normally, Miss Kureha would rise punctually at nine even without being roused by the maids, but this morning she didn’t awaken until around nine-thirty, prompting maids Yone and Ichi to exchange glances. Thinking something might be wrong, the two of them went together to rouse her, but found her snoring away. When they finally managed to rouse her by violently banging on the door and shouting, she reluctantly got up. While slipping into her pure white habutae pajamas, she kept saying she must have taken too much sleeping medicine last night and went to take a bath, they say.”

“Huh… I just can’t figure it out.”

As he spoke, Officer Fumizuki threw his body onto the desk before him and planted both elbows. He clasped his head firmly and said with a sigh. “I’ve completely lost track of things.”

“What’s there not to get… huh?” “...If that’s true, then it must mean Miss Kureha didn’t kill Mr. Kyūzō after all. The owner of those mysterious footprints… in other words, the one who threatened Mr. Kyūzō killed him.”

“Hoh.” “That’s quite a sharp deduction.” “How’d you figure that out?”

The pale forehead of young Officer Fumizuki was damp with sweat. He glared at the space before his eyes and let out a hollow voice as if being haunted. “Miss Kureha and the culprit are connected... To ensure the killer who murdered Mr. Kyūzō could escape safely, she deliberately overslept to delay the discovery of the incident...” “BWAHAHAHA! “No no no. Can’t have that.” “Even a top-notch detective can’t afford to get this paranoid.” “In this world, there’s such a thing as coincidences, and then there’s plain old paranoia.” “Get your head straight!” “Ahahaha...”

Officer Fumizuki blinked rapidly, as if jolted from a dream, and looked at Officer Inomura’s face. He regained his composure and began meticulously smoothing down his hair. “But… that is a fact…” “Yep. “Of course it’s a fact.” “And what’s more—it’s a stubbornly persistent fact.” “Moreover, there’s an even more critical fact than that, so Miss Kureha’s oversleeping issue doesn’t even amount to a problem.” “What fact?” “The manager Kasa Keinosuke we just discussed. “That manager Kasa received a call from the kitchen maid Yone and rushed over by automobile from his Marunouchi apartment, arriving just before twelve today. “Then, while we were examining the victim’s corpse and other items under official supervision, we noticed a checkbook lying discarded on the desk.” Upon checking, we found that a 2,000 yen check from Horibata Bank dated yesterday had been issued to someone. So upon noticing this as a precautionary measure, they contacted Horibata Bank this morning. As soon as Horibata Bank opened, there was someone who withdrew 2,000 yen and left. That was a distinguished gentleman wearing sheer silk haori and hakama with an imported Panama hat. A dark-complexioned, tall man of stout build—corpulent with two roughly five-bu-square bandages plastered between his eyebrows and on his nose tip—so that clerks initially mistook him for a judo instructor. For that very reason he appeared supremely composed; however from entry to exit he never spoke a word—his seemingly casual movements brimming with tension through unwavering demeanor. “Furthermore, he wore new felt sandals and gripped an equally new high-quality rattan cane.”

“Are you saying that’s the culprit?”

“Of course that’s right.” “Upon hearing this report, Manager Kasa had them wrap the check in paper and preserve it so no one would touch it, then immediately informed us of the situation.” “He’s quite a competent man, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. “You can’t let your guard down around amateurs these days.” “In other words, after deliverin’ that threatenin’ letter to Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō, when he was waitin’ in the office like agreed, they came creepin’ in through the window.” “Then made him write that two-thousand yen check, stabbed him sudden-like to avoid future trouble, grabbed the cash before anyone noticed, and vanished clean away—that’s how it went down.” “Meanin’ this bastard knew full well Mr. Kyūzō and his lot were late sleepers—figured he could waltz right in at dawn to collect his dough without a hitch.” “Them bandages ‘tween the brows and on the nose? Looked like nothin’ at first glance, but when we studied ’em later—damned clever disguise! Simple as hell but scary effective.” “Takes a real seasoned crook to cook up somethin’ like that.” “Try it yourself sometime—just shift where you stick them bandages, same mug’ll look like two different fellas.” “Toss in some shoulder-swingin’ like some jock, and bam! Everyone’s bowin’ to their new judo sensei without battin’ an eye.”

“Wouldn’t there be fingerprints on that check?” “They should be covered in them.” “It’s still under investigation, but there should be at least three sets of prints on that check—the master of this house who wrote it, the criminal who took it, and the bank clerk’s.” “The culprit who came to the bank wasn’t wearing gloves, see.” “Manager Kasa’s the type to keep bowing and scraping till his spine cracks, but even he’s got flashes of sharpness that had everyone nodding in respect, see.”

“……By the way……where are the manager and the actress Kureha now?” “With the culprit’s star aligned and their suspicions cleared, they came straight to Omori Police Station, had the chief formally verify their alibis, then rushed off to Gofukubashi Theater in high spirits—must’ve been around two-thirty.” “They say the theater’s hanging by a thread right now.” “Apparently claiming that if this article hits the evening edition, it’ll set the whole city abuzz and make the theater a smash success.” “Both of ’em left in quite the hurry.”

“That seems rather heartless, don’t you think? Well... they say theater people are the most heartless of all classes... yet if anyone saw this evening edition, they might think tonight’s performance is canceled...”

“That’s hard to say. Audience members are an even more heartless—and far more curiosity-driven—lot than theater folks, you know. ‘Since the soul of the late Mr. Todoroki surely lingers in that theater,’ she said with bloodshot eyes, ‘keeping today’s show running is the least act of filial piety we could manage.’ Miss Kureha…” “What are they staging now?” “Dunno what they’re putting on… Ah. Right, right. They left tickets at Omori Station… Something about Shin Yotsuya Kaidan or such…”

“Huh.” “So then all that’s left is catching the culprit, right?” “Yeah. He’s gotta be one hell of a tough customer.” “Then what remains as a question is…” “What doubts could possibly remain?” “No.” "This is purely my own speculation, but..." "The first point concerns the psychological state of Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō when he admitted the culprit…" “That’ll become clear once we interrogate him.” “The second point concerns the unresisting state and look of shock evident on the corpse…”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it unresisting.” “But objectively speaking, we know he offered no resistance. In such situations, expressions of non-resistance and shock could manifest simultaneously—one might even interpret them as conveying equivalent meanings. Moreover, doesn’t this psychological stance of the victim toward his assailant find multiple corroborations in his failure to retrieve the pistol from the desk drawer when admitting the culprit? Might we not imagine that the victim himself had perceived—and wholly believed—the perpetrator’s lack of murderous intent?”

“Hmm. “Now that ya mention it... Can’t say it’s beyond consideration.” “Damn sharp mind ya got there, eh?”

“Th-that’s not quite what I meant… And then there’s the secret concerning Miss Kureha’s actions in the master’s room around two o’clock on the night of the incident…”

“Ah... That’s completely unreliable.” “As I’ve said time and again, Ichida Ichiko’s testimony’s unreliable see…” “It became unclear afterward, wouldn’t you say?” “Therefore, wouldn’t that make its meaning even more precise?” “You’re quite harsh.” “Feels like I’m the one gettin’ interrogated here.” “Ha ha ha. No—” “That’s not what I meant… The remaining point concerns estimating Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō’s time of death.” “As for what time last night…” “Ha ha ha.” “If it’s after two o’clock, you intend to firmly bind Miss Kureha… You…”

“I believe that would be more certain.” As he said this, the color drained from Officer Fumizuki’s face. With an icy smile as if ice had been pressed against his spine, he brought a trembling match to his third MCC. Officer Inomura, who had been watching this agitation with apparent relish, leisurely brought his bristly hands around to the back of his head. “But we already know the time of death.” “When I called Sakki Main Station earlier, they said they’d received a report from the university about an hour before.”

“Wh... What time was it?” “They say it was approximately 3:30 to 4:30 this morning.” The matches and cigarette fell from Officer Fumizuki’s hand. While staring fixedly at Officer Inomura’s face, his lips trembled. “Ha ha ha.” “You seem quite shocked.” “Ha ha ha.” “If you ask novel and newspaper readers, tying up the actress might make for a more dramatic and entertaining story.” “It ain’t that simple.” “There’s some unknown significant secret between the culprit and Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō.” “So what if we suppose that the culprit who’d once left returned fearing exposure by Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō, committed the crime at the estimated time, and then left again? What do you think?” “This is turning into a detective novel, ain’t it?” “Ha ha ha ha ha...”

Mocked Officer Fumizuki picked up the fallen cigarette with evident dissatisfaction, then crossed his arms and sank into his chair. He stared into empty space and muttered as if dreaming.

(Detective novel... As fiction... As fact... Somehow I can't shake this feeling that everything feels completely off-kilter and precarious.) (The real culprit seems to lie elsewhere entirely...)

“You’re such a headache. “You too... Seems you’ve got a disposition where you ain’t satisfied unless every single circumstance is tangled up like a labyrinth, ain’t ya?” “So you ain’t satisfied unless the culprit’s holed up in some damn unexpected place...” “Yes. “After all, since I’m off duty today, I asked to be brought here under the pretense of field observation—so I thought I’d like to consider every possible angle carefully…”

“You’re overthinkin’ it... The truth’s much simpler.”

“How simple?” “The culprit’s already spilling the beans.”

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

“Ha ha ha. Surprised?” “That’s right.” “Though I must say, even I was a bit taken aback myself.” “They nabbed him just past noon at Ueno Station.” “Apparently he’d been lugging around carpenter’s tools, but when they moved to apprehend him for acting suspicious, he ditched the gear and made a mad dash into the station grounds.” As the bastard kept widening the gap with that freakish speed of his, he tried vaulting over an oncoming train that’d barreled in while shaking off his pursuers—only to catch his leg in the locomotive’s cowcatcher and snap it clean. “Talk about rotten luck.” “The emergency alert hadn’t even gone out yet.” “Maybe Miss Kureha’s prayers actually worked... Ha ha ha...” That’s when the judicial officer from Omori Station—the one who’d called about the situation—raced over on a hunch and found it was none other than that infamous Savage Brat, still clutching Horibata Bank’s full two thousand yen. The checks and forensic fingerprints got scrambled through in record time. “A grand arrest so lightning-fast you’d miss it blinking—now that’s front-page material.” “Turns out he was some notorious murderous bandit who’d terrorized from Shizuoka through Shin’etsu about a decade back.”

“...Murderous robber...”

“That’s right. When they dragged that injured bastard into Omori Station—leg still busted—wasn’t no time ’fore he spilled everything without hesitation. ‘Indeed, I killed Todoroki Kyūzō. Since I knew about that bastard’s past misdeeds concerning the actress Amakawa Kureha’s personal affairs, I met him there around 1:30 last night and made him write a 2,000 yen check before leaving. But seeing how damn accommodating he was being, I started worrying he might rat me out. So I called him back by telephone this time, thoroughly scoped out the situation, had him undo the front door lock proper-like, made him line up the slippers, then went upstairs. As I sat face-to-face with Kyūzō jawing about all sorts of nonsense, his eyes started looking real dangerous. So I took him out swift with my signature surprise strike.’ ‘I believe that was exactly around 3:30.’ ‘Then I just jumped out the window... I must admit defeat...’”

“...Weeelll, I’ll be...”

“Ah ha ha.” “Got you good, didn’t I?” “Ha ha ha.” “I won’t complain anymore.” “It proved rather inconvenient that after declaring he’d resignedly pay his dues, he clammed up.” “He remained tight-lipped about his old relationship with Todoroki Kyūzō, just shaking his head... But from explaining the crime scene to acting out the murder itself, there wasn’t a hair’s breadth of discrepancy in his account.” “The bastard had his ankle—his bread and butter—smashed, so he seems to’ve completely given up the ghost, eh?”

“Even so, he’s a frighteningly nonchalant fellow. To think he might lose his head over this…” “You’ll sometimes find that kind of disposition among murderous robbers. We had Miss Kureha and Manager Kasa—who happened to be there—confront him directly, but neither seemed to recognize him. The culprit just kept bowing to Miss Kureha, apologizing over and over, but those of us investigating got nothing useful from it.”

“And then what happened?”

“Nothin’ much. Since the presumed culprit’s been caught and confessed, there’s nothin’ more for those of us on the police side to do. We turned away the ones who’d been called up on emergency duty same as you lot as they came trickling in. Manager Kasa and Miss Kureha also listened to the explanation from the judicial officer and went off to the theater delightedly. And that’s the end of it. Ah ha ha ha...”

“Well, what in the world...”

Officer Inomura stood up, laughing boisterously. He moved behind Officer Fumizuki and delivered a solid thump to the loose-fitting uniform’s back.

“Ha ha ha.” “You’re such a fool… Shouldn’t get so carried away with detective novels.”

Officer Fumizuki turned red all the way down to his neck. He moistened his eyes and earnestly explained. “Thi... This is a habit of mine. W-well... The primary reason I aspired to become a police officer was... well, because I read detective novels like crazy.”

“Don’t be absurd.” “Detective novels ain’t good for nothin’.” “As proof of that, detective novelists aren’t worth a damn in real-world situations.” “If it’s not some criminal they’ve cooked up themselves, they can’t catch ’em proper at all, can they?...” Officer Fumizuki let out a deep, regretful sigh. He exhaled MCC smoke in a meditative, somewhat affected pose.

“Ah... I’ve been had.”

“Ah… Good work there. In the end, we let the culprit slip away, didn’t we. Heh heh heh…”

“You’re really quite mean-spirited, I must say.” “If only you’d told me earlier—wouldn't have had to rack my brains like this...”

“Did you really use your head that much?” “...I did think something was off. Not a shred of suspicion was cast upon Manager Kasa and Miss Kureha before they went off to the theater.”

“Of course! By that time, we might’ve already processed the criminal’s fingerprints.” “Huh... Then that means...”

Officer Fumizuki made a strange face and looked around restlessly.

“When you said this was the search headquarters...” “Nothin’ much. That was all a lie. Since you’re a detective novel nut who’d never dealt with real cases—figured I’d test ya. I was off duty today too, see? Manager Kasa asked me to keep watch here—made a promise. Knew you’d be bored stiff, so tricked ya into taggin’ along. How’d ya like it? Fun little game, eh?”

“Ah... So dull...”

“Ahaha. Don’t get so riled up. Dinner should be served before long. Meanwhile, once Miss Kureha comes back, you ought to give her a proper look-over. Make a nice souvenir for your wife.”

“...My apologies... I am still unmarried.”

“Oh ho! That so? That was out of line. Well then, that’s perfect. After we eat dinner, I’ll show you a real stunner.”

“Huh… There’s another beauty here? In this house…” “No—not this house, though. It’s on the other side of this backyard. He’s the scriptwriter for Kuromonbashi Theater, see? There’s this Ema what’s-his-name—a man with an unpleasant mug—living with his sister, just the two of them.” “Ah! Is Ema Chōsaku here? In a place like this…” “What? You know that guy…?” “Anyone who reads detective novels would know him. He appears quite the intellectual, but given he’s an absolute eyesore—a bumbling oaf and first-rate hothead who brags about his brute strength—he often turns up in gossip rags. This is my first hearing of his theater connections, but he’s notorious for dragging those rural-themed dime novels of his to publishers again and again. Frankly, looking at his mugshots proves far more grotesquely entertaining than reading his tripe…”

“Don’t you know about his sister?” “I didn’t even know he had a sister.” “Now this sister—they’re undoubtedly real siblings—is a music school-educated talent and refined beauty, completely unlike her oafish brother.” “They say the late Mr. Todoroki bankrolled both their educations as their patron, but whispers suggest his relationship with the sister was what reeked of suspicion.”

“Ah. Please stop with such dubious stories. I’ve had my fill.” “No—this has nothing to do with the current case. A completely different story. According to Matsui Yone, it seems Mr. Todoroki doted so much on that songstress that even her brother ended up under his care.” “What a meddlesome woman. That kitchen maid...”

“Oh ho! That housemaid—no, scratch that—even this current maid Ichida Ichiko’s got that naive little pushover face. Want me to introduce ya? She’ll be bringin’ tea any minute now...”

“No.” “I’m quite all right.” “I’m leaving.”

“Oh, come on now.” “Take your time.” “You hate women or somethin’?” “If there’s detective novels around, women become redundant.” “Shouldn’t go sayin’ things like that.” “Just take a gander.” “A proper beauty’s mug...”

“No.” “I’m leaving.” “I shouldn’t impose any longer…”

“Hahaha!” “You’re impossible…”

It was precisely at that moment.

In Miss Kureha’s secret lounge on the fifth floor of Kuromonbashi Theater, Miss Kureha herself and Manager Kasa sat facing each other.

This so-called secret lounge had been created by partitioning off a roughly two-ken square corner of the fifth-floor attic warehouse—ordinarily used for storing theater props—with tattered gold screens and riverside painted backdrops. They lined up a dust-covered long chair from the prop collection and a warped wicker chair, laying down nothing but new greenroom cushions. Near the linoleum floor and semicircular window sat a bone-dry pot of withered daffodils. Under the dim naked lightbulb, facing these backdrops and screens, the space exuded a strangely terrifying desolation—as if a giant one-eyed goblin’s head might come rolling out with a... whoa... at any moment.

However, even so, for actress Kureha, this room felt far more calming than the splendid greenroom, and it seemed her mind could rest here. The theater's own popularity wasn't particularly high, but even so, her personal popularity far surpassed that of actresses nationwide; because her third-floor greenroom couldn't keep up with the stream of visitors, she often came to this secret room in the corner of the storage area to rest. Manager Kasa in his frock coat sat rigidly on the warped wicker chair with considerable tension in his demeanor. In contrast, she sat sprawled on the long chair beside him in a single garish stage yukata with just a thin red obi tied carelessly disheveled—her flesh-toned underrobe exposed at the collar—appearing thoroughly bored with the conversation as she pulled out a large antique coral hairpin and scratched beneath the white base of her elaborate Oomaru mage.

“In that case, Ms. Kureha— “There’s no special relationship between you and Mr. Todoroki, then? “Beyond an ordinary relationship…” Kureha didn’t so much as glance his way. “You can think whatever you like... Not that spouting salmonspawn would make me understand.” “Why must you persist in asking like that?” “Such nonsense…”

“It’s not nonsense at all. There’s a deep reason behind this... well... that is...” “Just say it outright. The next act’s about to begin, you know.” “This next act... well. Isn’t this where you simply appear as you are and get speared by Teramoto Chōji playing the husband? There’s still twenty-four, twenty-five minutes left.” “Yes. But that’s my time. Not time I’ve reserved for you.”

“You’re being terribly harsh tonight... If you go downstairs now, a whole swarm of reporters lies in wait.” “The police have apparently announced the culprit’s arrest, you know.” “I absolutely won’t accept it.” “It has to be you...” “The newspaper reporters aren’t as bothersome.” “Than your questions…” “You shouldn’t speak so harshly.” “That’s why we really need to discuss things properly... well... this matter has grave implications for this theater’s fate.” “You could say this theater’s fate hinges entirely on your response.”

“I can’t stand people who put on airs...” “Now listen... You mustn’t be shocked.” “That’s none of your business… Whether I’m shocked or not… Just say it already.” “In that case, I’ll say it… You…”

“I…”

“Lately, every night after the maids have fallen asleep... you’ve been barging into Mr. Todoroki’s room to insist you want to marry him—over and over... Hahaha... Well? You’re shocked, aren’t you...”

Kureha turned deathly pale in an instant, like a glass bottle drained of all color. She sat bolt upright, formally kneeling directly before Manager Kasa, lips bitten until they turned white as she glared. The makeup for the next act—now tinged with a faint bluish cast—grew even more terrifyingly vivid. A raspy voice spoke in broken fragments. “How... how could you... know that?” Manager Kasa appeared struck by the woman’s beauty before him—a beauty laced with eerie intensity. The greasy sheen vanished from his face as he half-rose from his seat, clasping his trembling hands together.

“Th-that... I... uh... heard it from Mr. Todoroki.” “Four or five days... ago.” “Mr. Todoroki seemed at his wit’s end and spoke to me about such matters a couple of times.” “It was when I was alone with Mr. Todoroki in the theater’s underground cafeteria.” Kureha nodded deeply. She seemed to have lost some of her intensity.

“It wasn’t you who uncovered this, then.” “That’s correct. I heard it directly from Mr. Todoroki: ‘Kureha is thinking of abandoning me and getting married. But I absolutely cannot run this theater if I disregard 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 in the automobile together, he said it again... ‘That Kureha means to marry some unthinkable wretch.’ ‘If she weds that creature, not just Kureha herself but even I shall be ruined.’ ‘It’ll drag both me and Kureha through lifelong disgrace.’ ‘Tonight I’ll pound her hopes down to the very dregs.’ ‘Even if I must beat her dead, I’ll see she never entertains such notions again...’ He was in a perfect frenzy when he said that.”

Kureha sank into the chair as if truly struck down by Manager Kasa’s words. She hunched her shoulders，kept her eyes downcast，and let out a deep，trembling sigh.

“Just who is this person you speak of wanting to marry? I would like to hear it directly from your own lips—who exactly is this person? … If it’s an amusing match, I might even consider lending an ear as your advisor.” “……………”

Manager Kasa, having clearly seen his opponent’s disheveled state, involuntarily broke into a grin. He likely wanted to prop his cheek and lean forward, but with no table available, had no choice but to cross his arms and sharply arch backward. He seemed intent on further intimidating Kureha, wanting to revel in the thrill of victory. “...You couldn’t possibly speak of it.” “This one thing... heh heh.” “However, I understand this matter perfectly well.” “Heh heh.” “It’s no use trying to hide it… Whether he was your father… or a complete stranger, I don’t know—but Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō left behind a riddle of sorts at that time.” “The fact that Kureha’s intended marriage partner turned out to be so utterly unexpected left me completely floored.” “It’s none other than Midori—that playwright Ema Chōsaku’s sister.” “In other words, it's what they call homosexuality—that Kureha feels some deadly serious love for that woman.” “Lately, I’ve been exhausted from work every night—my head gone all foggy, unable to think about anything—and just when I’m at my limit, this Kureha goes and drags in another one of these outrageously absurd problems. Now I’m completely at my wit’s end and thought I’d consult you... that is to say, consult with myself... but really, what in blazes should I do? That Kureha’s been stubborn and eccentric since childhood—must’ve inherited it from her father, that brutal painter of his—and on top of that, being forced to perform nothing but those kinds of plays lately has made her disposition sink straight to the bottom of depravity. Seems she’s grown thoroughly warped through and through.” “If I could just live with that Ms. Midori—calling me ‘sister’ over and over—I wouldn’t mind dying.” “If you would only permit this, I would be reborn with new life—directing even more spectacular plays with even greater devotion—and triple, no quintuple the current revenues of the Kofukabashi Theater.” “And arrange for Ms. Midori and her brother to study abroad... If I continue living through days where I’m forced to perform nothing but these inhumanely spectacular plays without being granted any joy, I’ll surely go mad.” “...‘Even now during performances, I sometimes feel such urges—wanting to silently sink my teeth into the throats of those actors around me... Would it truly be acceptable if I actually bit them?’ ...and they say you made such a terrifying face while pressuring Mr. Todoroki with that question.”

“……………”

“I still know all sorts of things, you see. “Mr. Todoroki had often said since long ago. “The Midori siblings were vagrants whom Mr. Todoroki picked up during his travels—he 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. While the brother’s paintings proved him a dullard who never amounted to anything, forcing him to switch to being a third-rate playwright, the sister Midori conversely has a somewhat forlorn face with freckles that makes her rather inconspicuous at first glance, though upon closer inspection she’s authentically beautiful in a Latin mold, blessed moreover with an ideal soprano voice. “Though when that soprano voice is fully projected, the innate wandering melancholy seeps out. “A sorrow as boundless as a spring meadow—an indescribably distant, faraway sorrow—rises to its fullest, and if one were to call it a wound, then a wound it is. “In Japan today, such classical voices aren’t in vogue, but if one were to go to the West, they’d be a tremendous hit. “I’ve been looking forward to sending that girl abroad—letting her live in a corner of the estate’s garden like that and grow close to Kureha—but even though the brother and sister have facial features that are exactly alike, why is there such an extreme difference in their beauty and ugliness? The more I look at them, the more utterly baffling it becomes. “Of course, since the brother was such an ugly man, I thought it was safe and let my guard down,” he said, “but then that Kureha started directing her homosexual affection toward the sister instead—I was completely caught off guard... or so he said. But I suppose all of this is true, isn’t it?” “Heh heh heh.”

“……………”

Kureha barely managed to nod. Manager Kasa also gave a deep nod and leaned forward. "Just who is this person you speak of wanting to marry?" "Won't you make it clear?" "At this point..." "……………" "That... That playwright Ema Chōsaku—it's him, isn't it?"

“……………”

“I had thought you were becoming far too familiar with that man...” As Manager Kasa’s attitude and tone grew increasingly aggressive, Kureha sank deeper into the sofa. The manager looked down at her pitifully collapsed form—the large white ornamental comb of her marumage hairstyle, long coiled back-hair, and snow-pale nape all drooping heavily—and grew bolder still. As he leaned in with mounting pressure, Kureha suddenly raised her chalk-white face. She sharply arched her eyebrows and snapped back in defiance.

“Keh… How vile… Th-that… that man…” “But… but…” Manager Kasa lost his composure. Barely holding his ground against Kureha’s furious demeanor—her shoulders heaving with rage—he mimicked her labored breathing. “But... but... you... always hiding from your master’s eyes... with that playwright...” “Th-that... that was to explain the plot of the next play to that mediocre playwright, you know.” “How important the secret of the next play’s plot could be… surely even you should know that much, shouldn’t you?” “...Wh-who would ever... with that pimpled bastard...”

As she spoke, Kureha’s excitement seemed to rapidly subside, and she threw both legs onto the sofa as before. This time, she sank into thought, her attitude transforming into something resembling a rigid statue. There was something vaguely unnatural and deliberate about this shift in demeanor, yet Manager Kasa appeared satisfied. Resuming his original composed yet tense posture, he stared fixedly at Kureha’s profile.

“Then what is it? “It’s not that you killed Mr. Todoroki out of anger after he refused your marriage proposal, is it?”

Kureha hunched her shoulders with a sluggish motion and let out an irritated sigh.

“How rude of you, really.” “No matter how long we talk, it’s always the same thing… You’re being insufferably persistent.” “Didn’t we just go to Omori Police Station together and meet the criminal?” “Yes. That’s precisely why I’m saying this.” “The criminal’s eyes as he looked up at you didn’t seem normal, I think.” “Even as you both kept saying you didn’t know each other, when you saw the criminal shedding streaming tears and bowing his head in apology, didn’t you quietly wipe away your own tears after getting into the automobile?”

“Hoho. “That was simply me being sympathetic, you know. The criminal may have fallen for me somewhere along the way. That’s the actress’s trade for you, hoho… Now that I think of it, how resentfully intense his eyes were when he looked up at you. There seemed to be some profound grudge there. We kept saying we didn’t know each other while…” “...There’s no such thing...”

“Therefore, I too have no such thing.”

“Th-that’s not how this works…” “That won’t do. From the very beginning... everything you’ve been saying from the start reeks of baseless accusations.”

“It’s not a baseless accusation. In other words, your claim of wanting to marry was merely a coercive tactic against Mr. Todoroki, and not your true feelings, was it?” “Is that what you think?” In Kureha’s demeanor as she spoke those words, there was an undercurrent of genuine seriousness. Manager Kasa let out a thick sigh. “Yes… That’s what I want to believe. I must think that way!” “Hohoho. You’re quite the amusing one… How could such a thing be related to this theater’s fate?”

“It has a great deal to do with it!” Manager Kasa suddenly straightened his posture as if reinvigorated. With a brisk attitude, he leaned halfway forward and surveyed Kureha’s supple entire figure.

“You’ve already endured considerable hardship yourself.” “Well… what do you think…”

“Ms. Kureha… Let me speak frankly.”

“Yes. Please…” “Will you marry me?” Kureha, as if she had anticipated this, kept her face turned aside and let a small sneer form at the corner of her lips. As Manager Kasa watched this indescribably chilling yet alluring sneer intensify the water-like beauty flowing through Kureha’s entire being, he desperately bit down on his trembling lips to suppress a sob. With the grave conviction that this marked the turning point of his life’s destiny, he leaned forward even more intensely, making his prime-aged face shine with resolve.

“You know, “You understand, don’t you? “If my feelings… should be rejected by you now, I will no longer feel like staying in this theater. “I’m utterly sick of this theater-related life and detective plays and such, you know. “Could it be that I’ve come to know my destiny? “I’ve grown unbearably desperate to try living a calmer, more truly human and serene life, you know.” “………” “However… should you grant me new life, then the matter would be different, you know.”

Kureha nodded slightly. She kept her eyes closed quietly….

“You know…” “You understand, don’t you?” “These feelings of mine…” Kureha nodded even more distinctly. “Yes. I understand all too well.”

“You know… “So... so... with me…” Manager Kasa turned pale and then red. He fidgeted nervously, wringing and unwringing his hands to hide the unsightly figure typical of middle-aged men in such situations. “Yes. I will consider that. “Being an actress is such a fleeting, unreliable business, you know.” “Huh? “Then... you’ll agree...?” “W-wait a moment… Th-there’s a condition. “I’m not... some naive fool myself, you know.”

Kureha raised a hand to block Manager Kasa, who looked ready to pounce on her at any moment. Manager Kasa reluctantly sat down while glancing 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. Right? You see... Even if you and I were to become one, this theater’s popularity remaining as it is now simply won’t do. Right? Honestly, that’s the case, isn’t it? The Todoroki family’s assets don’t have even a salmon egg’s worth left... And even if you’ve amassed quite a fortune yourself, your extravagant habits mean even a hawk could see its limits.”

Manager Kasa instantly turned bright red. He rubbed his face—which seemed ready to billow steam—vigorously with his open palm. “Ah! Th-this is... well... being stared at like this...” “So you see… I’m not completely ignorant of the world either—I wouldn’t willingly choose to wallow in the mud, right?” “That’s why I’m telling you.” “Just wait a little longer—”

“What will waiting a little longer achieve?” “Look,” “I too... have absolutely no attachment left to this theater or detective plays.” “After all the years I’ve struggled alongside Mr. Todoroki, I want to raise one final banner as a parting memento…” “Huh?” “One final banner…” “It’s like this… Today is August 4th, a Sunday, you see.” “Therefore, from today until the first Saturday of next month—the evening of September 7th—I want you to suspend all performances for a full month and entrust every last member of the company to me.” “I won’t cause you any trouble with the expenses whatsoever, you know.” “I’ll take those actors somewhere nobody will find us and have them do the script read-through I’ve prepared.”

“The script you prepared…” “Yes. “That’s right. With this, I have a guaranteed once-in-a-lifetime script, you see. After conducting those script read-throughs and thoroughly rehearsing, we’ll return and grandly promote my retirement performance, the final run of Kofukabashi Theater’s signature horror play, and a memorial for theater owner Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō. If we start running them around September 7th when the weather cools and keep them going as long as possible, I believe a significant net profit will remain.”

“Well... what do you think?” “No. They’ll definitely join in. Moreover, the plot of that play is a detective horror drama exposing facts without parallel in the world, so...”

“Fact-exposing... detective horror drama...”

“That’s right. You see, it’s a plot that lays bare the secrets of my entire life… So devastating that even this case’s criminal would surely be compelled to confess some terrible truth nobody yet knows upon seeing it… Not that I’m boasting… Hohoho…” She seemed completely worked up. With porcelain-white cheeks burning like fire and obsidian-black eyes gleaming with unearthly passion, she undulated toward him from her side. The manager—overwhelmed by unbearable, suffocating fascination—grew dizzy and began floundering anew. Lest he be consumed by her incandescent artistic passion, he heaved one deep sigh after another. Wiping sweat with a handkerchief, he hurriedly asked in return.

“Wh...what kind of script...” “That… 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, you should go to a hot spring or somewhere and rejuvenate your life—it’s been ages.” “Since it’s just one month during that period, you absolutely must forget about me the entire time.” “Otherwise, I will refuse all future consultations.” “Is that clear?” “I will handle all the work myself, so…”

“Can you manage it…?” “Once wouldn’t be any trouble at all. It’s a small theater… Just a matter of following the usual procedures. Even if someone tries to trick me, a hawk could gauge its limits.”

“Do you have the funds?” “There’s more than enough. Enough to spare…”

“That’s unexpected… Where…” “Where it is doesn’t matter… Anyway, you’re just a guest this time.” “I could give you two or three invitation tickets… Hoho… Go bring along some widow and her daughter from Kobe.” “Tha... That’s not funny!” “That’s right.” “It’s no joke.” “I’m serious… I… don’t wish to relinquish my maidenhood until then, you see.” “Sh...sho...maid...” “My, what a face you’re making.” “Are you implying I’m not a maiden?” “That’s quite rude.”

“N-no. “I-I… by no means meant such a thing…”

“In that case, do be so kind as to listen gently to what I say.” “Since it’s already time… you must leave this room at once.”

On the night of the incident... August 4th saw Kofukabashi Theater suffering abysmal attendance. Those who had seen that day’s evening paper all seemed to have anticipated an inevitable closure—even the regular patrons constituting their daily stable income numbered less than half. When staff erected a standing sign before the central stage curtain during the final act declaring, "Due to the sudden death of our theater owner Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō, we regrettably suspend performances for one month to make necessary arrangements," there was someone who applauded with jarring impropriety.

“Ah.” “So this play’s coming to an end too...?” someone even said regretfully while looking back at the front billboard now of all times.

At that moment, star actress Amakawa Kureha sat facing playwright Ema Chōsaku on the second floor of Alps—a mountain lodge-style coffee shop behind Ginza. Dressed entirely in white Western attire, Kureha stood erect like a medieval queen... Chōsaku in his tuxedo perched on a bamboo stool like an attendant, a giant tree stump serving as their central table. In the shadow of an electric lamp mimicking a soot-stained counter light—save for a shabby man in a hunting cap sitting with his back turned, slowly sipping through a straw—the room stood empty. After sweeping her gaze across the space, Kureha planted her elbow on the tree-stump table and leaned her face toward Chōsaku's ear. Chōsaku inclined his tousled head with equal intensity. A hushed voice fractured into faint echoes through the chamber.

“Mr. Ema. Is that clear? This is my lifelong secret—the story that completely explains why Mr. Todoroki was killed this time.” “Huh?! Th...that kind of secret... still exists?” “Yes. An extremely grave secret. I want you to dramatize this by the 15th so I can star in it next month—listen with that intention.” “Understood… I… I shall comply.”

“But… This story’s content would become quite dangerous if dramatized, so you must write a sufficiently neutered stage script for submission to the Metropolitan Police Department—one that maintains plausible continuity through its bones.” “If we get hit with a performance ban, it’ll only mean catastrophic losses.” “My entire plan would collapse into chaos.” “You absolutely must write it to pass their inspection.” “Of course, it can’t be set in Japan.” “Pass it off as a Western adaptation—attach some convincing foreign author’s name and credit it as ‘Dramatized by Ema Chōsaku’ or such.” “I’ll entrust all those finer points entirely to you.”

“U-understood…” “Once it’s ready, please give 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... about that story...” “……It’s something from long ago. “It’s a story from around the 20th year of Meiji—1887 or thereabouts.” “The family was that of the chief retainer to a minor daimyo in Kinai named Uemura Suruganokami, who held approximately 150,000 koku, and the youngest son of a man called Amagi Tango was the painter Amagi Ryūsen.”

“It seems I’ve heard this somewhere before.” “There should be.” “Hoho.” “He apparently signed his works variously as Ryūsen or Ryūkawa, but after the Meiji Restoration fell into complete destitution. He came to rely on a gang boss named Todoroki Raikurō from Mitsuke-shuku along the Tōkaidō highway, who had a house built for him in a quiet spot on the outskirts where he lived retired.” “He became quite famous selling paintings as far as Shizuoka, Tokyo, Nagoya, and the Keihanshin region—particularly skilled at copying old nishiki-e secret paintings, muzan-e gruesome pictures, and abuna-e risqué images. By around 1919 or 1920 of Taisho, he’d saved enough to live in a small yet exquisitely designed residence.”

“That reminds me.” “I have seen that painting.” “I believe it was indeed the Shijō school...”

“You see? There was... you see? A girl named Mitsue—about three or four years old at the time—born to that Ryūsen couple.” Since the father had this child in his fifties—an advanced age—he doted on her excessively, raising her amidst all sorts of superstitions like insect wards and fortune invocations. But that must have worked too well. “...she ended up becoming someone like me.” “Isn’t that splendid?”

“Now listen well... Around the 10th year of Taisho, there was a murderous bandit who rampaged from the Tōkaidō to Shinshu with Shizuoka as his base—a man whose real name was Ishiguri Kotarō, also known as the Wild Boy.” “If he fled into the mountains like some wild tribesman, they couldn’t catch him at all.” “They say he came to be called that because killing people meant nothing to him.” “So this Wild Boy set his sights on Ryūsen’s isolated house... They say he was determined to claim it and investigated every angle, but that Ryūsen house stood two or three chō away from Mitsuke’s residential area—too far for shouts to reach—with forests, groves, and winding paths connecting in all directions, making it a thief’s paradise. Yet one terrifying guard dog had been protecting Ryūsen’s home from the start: the Todoroki family, who ran construction contracts in Mitsuke.”

At that time in Mitsuke-shuku, the one who succeeded Todoroki Raikurō as gang boss was Todoroki Hisazo—a young boss about the same age as the Wild Boy. However, since this was around the 10th year of Taisho (1921), they likely no longer held as much power as in former times. Their work probably consisted only of guarding rural banks or serving as security for wealthy farmers. Moreover, this young boss Hisazo was no ordinary yakuza—an intellectual and Tokyo Imperial University law graduate who even held a lawyer’s license, he had been reluctantly pressed into the yakuza life by his underlings. Seated on the boss’s cushion alongside his young, beautiful new wife, he oversaw the highway districts—this Hisazo likely having inherited the blood of Boss Raikurō, who had once wielded jitte and arrest ropes of authority. Despite his distaste for boss life, he possessed sharp surveillance skills and criminal-catching prowess—one might say he was something of a rural Sherlock Holmes with a detective’s disposition. It was said that whenever even a moderately skilled thief struck, someone would inform Boss Hisakura before alerting the police. Wandering thieves all avoided Boss Todoroki’s territory. The reputation held that if anyone carelessly committed code-breaking work within Boss Hisakura’s sight, he would have them dealt with before police intervention—beaten half to death—and for the Wild Boy, those watchful eyes of Boss Hisakura were the most terrifying thing imaginable.

So the Wild Boy, driven by sheer stubbornness, must have racked his brains devising various schemes to knock Boss Hisazo out of the picture. He finally devised an extraordinary plan... Now, hearing only the name "the Wild Boy," one might imagine some fearsome brute with vicious features—but this referred solely to his blade skills and fleetness of foot. In truth, he looked no different from any ordinary man—handsome in bearing with the appearance of someone who wouldn’t harm a fly, coupled with such humble demeanor and charm that when posing as a peddler, he appeared perfectly convincing. Therefore, the Wild Boy took advantage of this by disguising himself as a home medicine seller from the then-popular Nipponichi Pharmacy and, while playing a large harmonium as he wandered through Mitsuke Town, managed to thoroughly investigate the young Todoroki boss’s surroundings.

...Now, this young wife of Young Boss Todoroki was said to be the daughter of a farmer from a nearby village—born with ethereal beauty and a bold temperament that led her to live recklessly beyond all bounds. Her overwhelmed parents and a mediator, laying bare their circumstances, had begged Young Boss Todoroki to take responsibility for her. But even with Boss Todoroki’s influential recommendation, there were simply no takers for this particular burden—leaving the whole affair rather awkwardly unresolved for his faction. So... Alright then... If that's how it is, I'll be the one to take responsibility. It's said that reasoning "If I keep her by my side, she won't be able to act out so recklessly," he overruled his foster sons' objections and held a splendid wedding ceremony—but this became Boss Todoroki's lifelong mistake. This was likely because that bold temperament of the young wife arose from the half-baked cleverness born of a young woman’s petty vanity. When she realized that the young boss was infatuated with her, she immediately began to look down on her husband and must have engaged in behavior during his absences that became the talk of the neighborhood. Therefore, when the Wild Boy uncovered this information, he must have been utterly delighted. Boldly still wearing Occhini's gold-braided uniform, he intercepted the young boss returning from elsewhere in a grassland on the town outskirts and confronted him. Then, while threateningly laying out all the wife’s misconduct as if he alone knew of it, he made his brazen proposal: "I’m sorry, but could you turn a blind eye to this matter for some time?" "...I'll split the earnings with you..." he brazenly proposed with such statements, making a firm yet conciliatory offer. Strangely enough, the young boss turned pale, pondered for some time, then silently agreed—or so the story goes. Boss Hisazo had never wanted to become yakuza in the first place, and being someone who actually understood legal matters, he found himself torn between his desire to make a name for himself in Tokyo and the karmic ties that kept dragging him deeper into this fate-bound existence he struggled to escape—only to have his beloved wife trample over what remained of his resolve, leaving him thoroughly demoralized. After parting with the Wild Boy, Boss Hisazo immediately went to Amagi Ryūsen’s residence and said, "My apologies, but since the Hina dolls have already been put away, might I borrow your daughter again for a little while?" He made his request saying he wanted to hold her and sleep together for the first time in ages... Boss Hisazo had an unexpected fondness for children that belied his youth, and all the children in Mitsuke would cling to him calling "Uncle! Uncle!" Especially the child at Ryūsen’s home—this was likely because he had doted on her particularly. The child had grown attached to him as if he were her own parent, and since such situations had occurred frequently before, the Ryūsen couple gladly changed the child’s kimono, wrapped sweets and even bedding in furoshiki cloth, and handed them over to the Young Boss.

Then, upon returning home, the Young Boss immediately summoned his foster sons. Before their numerous eyes, he called forth his young wife and the mediator, swiftly declaring their separation. The two could utter no protest as they packed their belongings and slunk back to the countryside. The Young Boss who saw them off... had done something truly inexcusable. "Not only have I ruined my own face, but I’ve destroyed yours as well." Having declared, "I’ve already made up my mind, so don’t say anything more on the matter," he surrendered his seat to one of his foster sons and commenced a farewell banquet on the spot.

Meanwhile, it was said that just around dawn of that very day, the Wild Boy had broken into the Ryūsen couple’s solitary house, brutally murdered the couple and their maid—three people in total—ransacked the entire home, and fled. Now, whether by misfortune or luck, at that time Ryūsen only had a meager amount of pocket money on hand while bankbooks and valuables had been deposited in the vault of a small savings bank in Mitsuke Town—for the Wild Boy who strictly never stole anything but cash this must have been a terribly unprofitable job. However in stark contrast Young Boss Hisazo brilliantly pulled off a clever maneuver. He probably used the seal left at Ryūsen’s house or something of that nature. Even so I don’t know in what manner he managed to cover his tracks but it’s said that after claiming tens of thousands in assets rightfully meant for their daughter along with a considerable life insurance payout he simply vanished without trace.

“You see…? You’ve realized by now, haven’t you? The most significant and advantageous things the Ryūsen couple left in this world all fell into Young Boss Hisazo’s hands... Given how the Wild Boy only discovered this afterward, no wonder he stamped the earth in frustration resenting the current Todoroki Kyūzō.” “Thus no matter how cunningly Todoroki hid himself, the Wild Boy would inevitably track him down with threats.” “They say he’d rant about dragging Todoroki down if caught, or refusing ordinary revenge... but Todoroki just sneered coldly.” “That wretch’s grudge stemmed from misdirected spite.” “I never meant to deceive the Wild Boy from the start.” “I only did such things because you were unbearably precious, and I feared what might happen.” “Of course the Wild Boy never planned to involve Anna quickly—I intended to settle my wife’s affairs first before warning Ryūsen and making arrangements. Their ending up as those ghastly paintings was simply heaven’s will.”

...I had discerned long ago that Ryūsen was creating nationally prohibited paintings. However, not only did he refuse to stop despite my repeated warnings, but he even leveraged the influence of powerful figures within the prefecture to aggressively sell his expensive paintings far and wide. To tell the truth, I truly came to despise Ryūsen's shamelessness. Driving out someone like Ryūsen from Mitsuke would have been nothing, but I was simply too captivated by your cuteness. From then on, matters followed their natural course, and since none of Ryūsen's relatives in Yamato Province offered any assistance, there had been nothing to do. Not only was there no reason for me to incur the Wild Boy's resentment, but I had become someone who needed to stake my life to raise you safely. Had the Wild Boy not known about my pistol training during my time hiding in Korea, both you and I would have been slaughtered by him long ago in Mitsuke.

However, after four or five years passed, even the Wild Boy seemed to have given up, as the threatening letters abruptly ceased. Every time a threatening letter came from that bastard, I had been sending him small amounts of money each time—which made it strange—but perhaps he finally realized his grudge had been misdirected. Or maybe when I thought he might have died from illness or such, I suddenly felt unburdened and began my true endeavors, building up my current position—yet now, over a dozen years later, threatening letters from the Wild Boy have suddenly started arriving again. "And these letters... they contain implications truly fatal to me..."

“Wh—wh—wait a minute!” Ema Chōsaku’s lips turned bone-white and quivered under the weight of revelation. “Th-that... Can that truly be?” “Hohoho... Every word is truth itself.” “From the very beginning... far more dreadful things await.” “And now...” “..................”

“Do pull yourself together and listen properly.” “I’m telling you all this precisely because I want you to dramatize it and achieve a great success.” “……………”

“……Those threatening letters were extremely simple things at first. The one that arrived about a week ago was just a regular sealed postcard with a crude scrawl saying ‘Do not forget March 7th of Taisho 10… This isn’t some play.’ But after that came two or three more—written in proper script with much longer passages. Truly dreadful… phrases that could be called our fatal wound.” “Wh... wh... what...”

“Hohoho. “You’re so weak-willed. There’s no need to turn quite so paper-white. Oh—just a moment—Boy. One whiskey soda… Immediately…” Ema Chōsaku let out a sigh of relief. He wiped the pale sweat streaming down his face with a handkerchief.

“Hohoho.” “Do settle yourself and listen properly.” “There’s nothing frightening left anymore, you understand.” “Now that the criminal’s been caught and disposed of...”

"But... but... there's still room for doubt—" “Yeeeees.” "There are still plenty more." "There are even bigger, deeper doubts remaining that no one has noticed." “It’s a story that reveals the real reason that knife stabbed Mr. Todoroki’s heart.”

“Wh-what?! Then the real culprit... isn’t…” “Whether they exist or not, I’ll leave that to your thoughts. That’s precisely where this script’s climax lies. Now then... The text of that lengthy threatening letter goes like this: ‘I’ve properly stored those letters in the secret drawer of my dressing table—you’ll understand when I show them later. Legally speaking, Todoroki Kyūzō and Mitsue Amagi share no parent-child relationship. Since actress Amakawa Kureha isn’t Todoroki’s adopted daughter or anything of the sort, this means he’s been embezzling Mitsue Amagi’s property. Not only that—I’ve recently uncovered that Todoroki Kyūzō and Amakawa Kureha maintain a de facto marital relationship. Moreover, this woman Kureha—Mitsue—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 waved his hand, then knocked over the half-finished whiskey soda on the tree stump table. As the waiter hurried to wipe it with a napkin, the flustered Chōsaku snatched it away and wiped.

“Hohoho. How foolish you are… There’s no need to deny what’s already clear before me… Hohoho…”

Chōsaku seemed completely confused. Wiping his flushed face with the wet napkin, he ordered the waiter to bring another soda. However, the waiter did not laugh; he lowered his waist, respectfully received the napkin, and left.

“Well… you see…” “So I’m telling you this because I want you to consider it.” “Since you’re always researching such matters, I believe if you’d listen to my account, you’d surely intuit the culprit.” “The one who killed Todoroki Kyūzō isn’t the barbarian brat.” “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—that’s what I realized today. That Kasa Keinosuke, you see. Just now during this evening’s intermission, he called me to that fifth-floor lounge. He threatened me by saying the very same things as the contents of those threatening letters which I thought surely no one else knew about. He said things that cast doubt on my relationship with Mr. Todoroki and your relationship with me... So I finally realized—the one they’ve caught now isn’t the real barbarian brat. He’s a fake barbarian brat who’s been made to grab a hefty sum of money, and once this goes to trial, he’ll undoubtedly flip his testimony. So the real barbarian brat is that manager, Kasa Keinosuke…"

“Hmm――” Ema Chōsaku buried his head in his hands and sank into the chair. He shut his eyes tight and dug ten fingernails deep into his tangled hair.

“You see... Such things do exist.” “As I mentioned earlier, after the barbarian brat’s threatening letters stopped coming, Todoroki truly began his active endeavors around 1925.” “Then, since he bought that Kuromonbashi Theater in the autumn of 1928, there’s a gap of three to four years in between, you see.” “In that time, the barbarian brat could’ve easily had the leeway to abruptly quit his criminal activities and fully establish himself as manager of that Kuromonbashi Theater.” “It’s not unthinkable that the barbarian brat has swollen up so much and become completely unrecognizable.” “So the barbarian brat either skillfully ingratiated himself with Mr. Todoroki, or had a decoy barbarian brat send threatening letters or something like that to make him buy that theater.” “And then he gradually drove that theater’s management into hardship—peeling away Mr. Todoroki’s claws and whittling down his bones while he waited—until he bided his time for me to come of age. Then he disposed of Mr. Todoroki, leaving me utterly alone so he could threaten me into becoming his possession… When you consider it this way, doesn’t it hold perfect coherence? Both theatrically and in reality.” “It’s nothing but a modern Count of Monte Cristo… you see…”

“……………” “The sole obstruction in all this is you.” “You yourself, Mr. Ema… aren’t you.” “As a genius detective novelist, you delve into matters beyond ordinary imagination—thoroughly dissecting every possibility.” “Thus, should you ever hear such a tale, your true nature might be laid bare at any moment—from any quarter.” “No defense could withstand that scrutiny.” “……………”

Ema Chōsaku clutched his hair while quietly opening both eyes wide. Those eyes—ghostly pale and filled with grave determination—were terrifying. With trembling fingers slowly releasing from his head, he looked around the area, then planted both hands on the edge of the whiskey soda-soaked tree stump and stood up. He stared fixedly at the tip of Kureha’s Grecian nose and slowly moved his lips. “...You are a great detective...”

Kureha nodded quietly in response, matching his rhythm. Her large eyes fluttered like stage curtains rising. "...Therefore... I must ask you," she continued. "Investigate Manager Kasa's activities starting now. When it becomes absolutely certain he's the true barbarian brat..." "I'll... kill him." Ema Chōsaku's eyes blazed with unnatural intensity, like polished glass orbs catching limelight.

“You mustn’t.”

Kureha shook her hand earnestly. “Wh... why... why is that?”

“Please leave the means of revenge to me.” “My parents’ killer… Todoroki’s killer…” “……………” “So then—I’ll give you all those bundles of threatening letters.” “When it finally comes to it—thrust that at Kasa and say—‘You haven’t forgotten the words you yourself wrote.’” “‘You haven’t forgotten the words you used to threaten Ms. Kureha either... have you?’...” “……………” “And then—you see.” “I will set the deadline for your activities to the tenth of next month.” “If you still can’t make Kasa spill the beans by the tenth of next month, you may return for the time being. Is that acceptable?” “The expenses will be provided along with the bundles of threatening letters tomorrow afternoon.”

“No.” “I don’t need a single penny for expenses.”

“No.” “That won’t do.” “Strangers should remain strangers.” “Huh?... Strangers...”

“Yes.” “That’s right.” “Now we’re complete strangers.” “So keep that in mind.” “I ask that all further consultations be made after the tenth of next month.”

Ema Chōsaku, struck by emotion, stared at Kureha’s face with eyes bulging like a deep-sea fish’s. He stood rigidly with his mouth hanging open, but eventually let his tousled head slump heavily forward as tears pattered down, mumbling incoherently. “Understood... I shall comply obediently.” Still seemingly overwhelmed, he pivoted sharply like a soldier on parade and burst from the hall with violent force. The stairs shook under his descent—a thunderous clamor like a hundred storms crashing down.

“...Hoho... Sherlock Holmes who’s grasped conclusive evidence... Arsène Lupin driven by righteous indignation... Hohohohoho... Hahahahaha!”

Amid oak groves that divided the star-studded sky into pitch-black segments, the Todoroki residence with extinguished lights stood so hushed that one couldn’t tell whether anyone remained within. The white paper affixed to the front gate—inscribed with "Due to ongoing bereavement, all visits to the Todoroki household are strictly prohibited"—fluttered listlessly in the wind, its presence rendered nearly invisible.

In stark contrast, within the ivy-covered bungalow-style cottage at the garden's corner, lights burned brightly as figures moved busily. Ema Chōsaku, who had returned with tremendous urgency, began preparing for a journey in stony silence—ignoring the tea his sister had brought, yanking open the cupboard with a clatter, and dragging out every last piece of clothing, hats, shoes, suspenders, and trunks—all while his sister Midori anxiously tried to stop him.

“Oh my... Brother... Have you lost your mind...?” “Thank you, thank you.” “You don’t need to worry.” “There’s nothing wrong with my mind.” “But Brother’s eyes look different from usual… You might as well be Sherlock Holmes clutching decisive evidence or Arsène Lupin raging with righteous fury.” “Hohoho.” “What’s happened… what in the world?” “Just shut up and watch.” “This is an extremely serious case… something you absolutely mustn’t get involved in—you have to stay completely neutral and keep quiet—it’s that critical, understand?”

“Oh, I’ve known all along. This is about the Todoroki household, isn’t it?” “That much… has to do with Mr. Todoroki’s household, right?” “Yeah, exactly.” “I’m this close to finding the real culprit.” “Hunting him down—that’s my job now.” “So that’s why you knocked over those whiskey sodas…” “Gah… You saw that?” “Hohohoho.” “Gave you quite a shock, didn’t it?”

Chōsaku plopped down heavily onto the natural wood chair. He sighed listlessly, looked around the cluttered room, then blinked his disproportionately large eyes that seemed out of place on his ugly face. “H...how did you hear about that? I just got back this very moment, and yet…”

Midori sat down in the opposite chair, smiling forlornly. "It's nothing at all. I too have been using my mind quite extensively regarding this Mr. Todoroki incident, you know. While pondering who the real culprit might be, I've been desperately thinking through what to do if you were ever suspected instead." "Hmm. Why are the two of us under suspicion?" "Brother, you don't know? Last night around midnight, Mr. Todoroki and Ms. Kureha had a huge fight right in front of the manager's eyes..."

“I didn’t know. I was here drinking tea with you at that time.” “Yes. That’s right. Therefore, I didn’t know either, though. The maid Miss Ichiko told Ms. Yone about that matter this morning... Then Ms. Yone got all shocked, see. She said we must never breathe a word about that fight—that woman, despite being a meddlesome gossip herself—so she made Miss Ichiko swear absolute silence before specially coming over to quietly inform me about it, you see. She said we here mustn’t let even a hint of it show, you see. What a strange woman. Ms. Yone, you… Hohoho. At first, I didn’t understand what it was about.”

“Ah. “That matter?” “This morning’s commotion in the kitchen where they were whispering for a while… What exactly was that fight about?” “The cause of the argument between Mr. Todoroki and Ms. Kureha was…” “It’s about whether to kick us two out or not.” “What... They’re kicking us out...?...” “Yes. “That’s what they’re saying.” “I don’t know why, though.” “Th-that’s outrageous.” “I’ve been helping that Todoroki all this time…”

“...Even if you say such things, it’s no use. If you start comparing favors, you’ll just end up looking foolish.” “I’ve known from the start that I’m a fool. They only gave us a pittance. In return, aren’t we providing a genius that can’t be bought with money? Moreover, staking our very lives with every ounce of our being…” “Brother, you’re being silly. Even if you say such things, no one will listen to you.” “Just who the hell says they’re going to kick us out?”

"When Mr. Todoroki said he'd expel us, Ms. Kureha insisted one shouldn't do such things without reason, you see." "I heard she wept while trying to stop him." "Of course she would!" "I don't know whether that's obvious or not." "If the police discovered we'd heard about this matter, wouldn't that be disastrous?" "Everyone knows Brother's tendency toward extreme agitation, and you know every inch of that house... If suspicion fell upon you, I thought it would be catastrophic—that's why I worried so terribly."

“That’s absurd… I’m no such fool.”

“But you’re getting all worked up like this… without even understanding the situation…”

“Hmm… That’s… well, true, but…” “Well… you see… So I immediately started thinking about how to explain an alibi and such.” “…I went through such pains over it.” “You needn’t have troubled yourself like that.” “Because we were properly asleep right here last night...”

“Well. If such an alibi could hold up, I wouldn’t have struggled so much. Brother, you’re saying something so simple it doesn’t suit a mystery writer, you know. But unless someone else stays awake all night watching you sleep, that alibi won’t hold water, will it? If I, your sister, were to testify, it wouldn’t count as proof, you see. You must know that much. You too...” “Hmm. Then what kind of alibi did you come up with?”

"That's precisely what I couldn't figure out, you know. So you see. When you came home tonight, I thought we'd discuss it properly and waited, but even when it reached the usual eleven o'clock, you still hadn't returned, right? When I called the theater, they said the play had already ended abruptly and that you and Ms. Kureha had gone home together. So I became absolutely certain it must be that Alps and called—and wasn't I precisely right? So I asked the boy who answered to leave the receiver there—the desk phone in the hollow of the tree right behind you off the hook—and position its mouthpiece toward your direction. So I could hear every word of your conversation with Ms. Kureha. That house is always dead silent, you know."

“Incredible! Great detective… Let’s shake hands!” “You’re being silly. Brother… Do you actually believe what that woman says?” “Who’s ‘that woman’?” “Who do you think? There was no one else besides her… was there?” “Are you saying Ms. Kureha agreed to marry me?” “Yes. You absolutely mustn’t trust that.” “Huh? Why…” “No matter how you look at it, Ms. Kureha never clearly said she’d agree to marry you.”

“……………”

Chōsaku pressed his forehead and sank into the chair. “Hmm—” “Is that so…” “That’s right. Her words are layered with extremely profound nuances, so you can’t afford to listen without caution. Even if she did clearly state such a thing... that’s a lie... I’m sure…” “How do you know?” “Such a thing… to you…” “It’s a woman’s intuition. ...A third party’s perspective...” “Is that all…?” “Isn’t that alone enough? I... that Kureha woman... I’m certain she harbors a deep-seated perverse psychology.”

“That’s all intuition?” “No. I can tell that from all sorts of things, you know. First of all, that woman isn’t truly fond of you. I’m the one she loves… so much it could kill her…” “Wha... What did you say... Is that the truth...”

Chōsaku nearly leapt up before sitting back down. “Shh!” “I don’t want you speaking so loud.” “Because someone might hear outside… It’s true, you know.” “There’s no mistake about it.” “That woman is only cozying up to you because she wants to get close to me.” “If you pay attention to her eyes and lips when she sees you off—they hold an icy distance that chills me.” “There are moments when she seems to do nothing but sneer at you.” “I’ve seen it—countless times.”

Chōsaku vigorously wiped his pallid cheeks and forehead with a new handkerchief.

“Hmm.” “Then how did you know she likes you?” “Here I am with you now, Brother.” “I’ve been so terrified of that woman lately, I can’t stand it… That woman…” “Merely saying she likes me isn’t enough—she seems to worship me from the depths of her heart.” “It’s utterly absurd.” “She’s been carefully storing away the yellow handkerchief I left behind in her room ages ago and kissing it over and over.” “When I happened upon her by chance, she panicked and hid it, but I saw that handkerchief smeared with her sticky lipstick stains.”

“Hmph.” “Disgusting… You really believe that?” “What reason would I have to lie to you, Brother?” “Whenever that woman looks at me, her gaze burns so intensely it feels branded into my cheek.” “What?! That’s—” “Surprising.” “So you mean… this is homosexuality?”

“That seems to be how it is. They say it’s common among people with warped personalities—those whose innate dispositions get distorted on stage. In Ms. Kureha’s case, that must be even more intense. So I... have felt so creeped out that I’ve thought about running away from this house countless times—if only Brother weren’t here... The Rocky Record Company has approached me repeatedly through a certain kind person about becoming an exclusive artist, but I’ve turned them down and endured it all this time.”

“Idiot… Why would you refuse? Such a sweet deal…” “Because rather than me earning 200 yen to support Brother, I’d much rather be dependent on Brother’s 100 yen—that’s what makes me happy...” “Hmm... I see... Thank you...” “Oh… I see… I’m grateful...”

Chōsaku’s eyes were already bright red. "But... it's utterly suffocating." "But homosexuality only exists in Japan, you know." "In Korea, I've never even heard of such things, so I don't know what to do." "Unless I come to like Ms. Kureha as much as she likes me, there's nothing I can do." "It just leaves me feeling unbearably uncomfortable, like being enchanted by a snake-woman." "And yet it comes with such a profoundly deep allure that I feel even more suffocated."

“No letters or anything have come from Ms. Kureha…?” “No.” “Nothing like that has ever come.” “It’s just that I actually feel that way, you know.”

“Hmm—” “Then... what will happen... I... I...” “Oh, you’re crying… Brother…” “I’m not crying.” “I’m scared.” “I am…” “There’s not the slightest thing to fear.” “Brother, you just need to keep letting that woman deceive you~. That woman... she still suspects you regarding Mr. Todoroki’s killer... doesn’t she... yes, that’s right~” “Since she intends to have you investigate for her, then you should simply go along with it as she wishes~”

“I’ve somehow become completely confused.” “So I should just go along with whatever that woman says, then.”

“Yes. That’s right. Make sure not to show even the slightest hint that we suspect that woman. And while you keep up appearances like that… who knows—perhaps even that woman might come to adore Brother…” “That’s not reassuring at all… What you’re saying… Just give me something more solid to go on.” “Because I can’t possibly know about the future… Unlike you, who takes everything so earnestly at face value, turning pale one moment and red the next…”

“Hey hey hey. Can you see someone’s face over the phone?” “Oh—! You figured it out? The trick—”

“Trick.” “What do you mean ‘trick’...?” “Hohoho. It’s nothing at all.” “I closed up the house right after you left tonight and went out.” “Because at a time like this, I simply can’t stay home all alone by myself.” “There’s nothing valuable in the house besides your manuscripts… And then—” “Incidentally, I made a little detour on the way and stopped by Rocky Record Company to sign a contract~.” “At 200 yen per month...”

“Gah!” “Is it true… that…”

“Yes. Because if Mr. Todoroki were to die, we would have to make considerable preparations ourselves, wouldn’t we? Shall I show you the contract... Look...” “Ugh... You shouldn’t startle me so recklessly...” “The people who looked after me were utterly delighted. They say Westerners lavish praise on my voice. During the test the other day... So I don’t need to rely on anyone’s help anymore. I’m simply returning the kindness we received from Mr. Todoroki to Ms. Kureha.”

“You’re certainly better than I am.” “Tonight of all nights, I’ve been completely beaten.” “Hohoho.” “There’s still something even grander waiting.” “N-now… what in blazes...”

“Go on, take a guess.” “I don’t know.” “That phone call earlier was a lie.”

“Huh? What the—” “Oh? You still haven’t figured it out?” “But you haven’t even told me anything about the trick…” “You’re not vain enough to deserve being called Brother.” “You see… I used tonight’s contract advance to disguise myself and attend the play.” “Then I trailed you and Ms. Kureha to the Alps and overheard your entire conversation~... With a hunting cap, tinted glasses, and my raincoat collar up under a sooty lamp—you couldn’t have recognized me~.” “That Madam there is Korean—we’ve been cozy for ages.” “She’s Rocky Record Company’s second manager.” “This deal was brokered through her too.”

“I’m shocked… I’m shocked… I’m shocked…” “There’s still something that will surprise you~.” “That old man Kasa, you know~.” “Poor thing—the old man’s ruthless.” “Do you truly believe Kasa Keinosuke is the real culprit?”

“Well... I don’t know. Without trying to guess…” “Yes~. Then take a guess~. That person would never act recklessly toward Brother...” “What’s this? You’re talking as if you have clairvoyance... You seem to know every detail of the case’s truth...” “Yes~. I might know... But if I said it now, everything would become incomprehensible—it’d cause tremendous trouble~. Better not speak of it.”

“Hmm… If you insist on saying that much, I won’t press further… But this thing you claim to understand—is it related to the culprit… or the entire incident…?”

“Yes. That’s the final secret hidden in the very depths of this entire case—an utterly mysterious... and artistically profound secret. If only that could be made clear, I would abandon my entire life and gladly become its sacrifice.” “Hey now—don’t say such dangerous things... Oh! Mii-chan... Are you crying?” “But... it’s just too pitiful... Before the mystery and artistic depth of that secret, 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 unraveled—the truth of this case would become clear in one stroke.”

“I truly don’t understand… I don’t know why, but I feel like it’s better not to know.”

“Yes.” “I do too.” “If you understood, it would be terrible!”

“When did you ever notice such a thing?”

“I finally realized it tonight. While listening to that woman and you talk...”

“Wh…what kind of thing?” “That is…”

The force with which Chōsaku suddenly stood up was so intense that his sister Midori involuntarily rose to her feet as well. Still slightly tearful, her cheeks flushed crimson. "That woman... While you were talking face-to-face, I watched her profile reflected in my compact mirror from the shadows... As I stared, my heart began pounding thump-thump-thump... Mirrors truly are bewitching things... I knew it..." The siblings exchanged glances at their rapidly paling faces.

“Hmm. Why did your heart start pounding thump-thump?”

Midori seemed to grow even more tearful and looked down. She fiddled and fiddled with the edge of the white apron, still in the middle of making tea, until even her ears turned red. She stammered and stammered.

“Ms. Kureha was just... just too beautiful, I thought...”

The following day also continued with fine weather.

When dawn broke, the actress Miss Kureha—having resolutely risen early and completed her elaborate Japanese attire as usual—immediately summoned the Todoroki family's legal advisor, Sakuragi Hogakushi. Having already mortgaged the building and land of her home—now registered under her name—to withdraw eighteen thousand yen from Horibata Bank, she divided three thousand yen from that sum, summoned the Ema siblings, and under Attorney Sakuragi's supervision, formally handed it over while ensuring they provided a proper receipt. Then, the three of them—excluding the lawyer—took a taxi to Kirigaya Crematorium, retrieved Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō’s remains, placed them in the deceased’s private room, and had a priest from a nearby temple come to chant sutras.

During the incense offering, Kureha was the first to stand before the Buddhist altar. For a long time she pressed her hands together, muttering something under her breath as she prayed while her shoulders shook with sobs. Her demeanor was so utterly sincere that not only the Ema siblings but even the maid Yone found their eyes growing moist. However—whether by intent or chance remained unclear—as her prayers neared their end, a sinister undercurrent crept into Kureha’s murmuring voice. It began to seep unmistakably through the dead silence of the Western-style room, leaving everyone deathly pale as they exchanged glances.

“……Everything… you… and I… had been mistaken since twenty years ago… I humbly ask to disclose it all with my own hands… I humbly ask to reform it into its true form… I humbly ask to sweep away all misguided kindnesses and resentments… Please attain Buddhahood… Namu Amida Butsu…”

Then she summoned a luxury taxi while the monks had not yet left and dashed out like an arrow released from the bowstring. She headed straight to the Imperial Hotel, met with Mr. Danbara Manpei—president of Tokiwa Entertainment Company, hailed as the greatest showman in the Orient—and made a binding promise to sell Kofukebashi Theater for a mere fifty thousand yen, effective until the coming September 10th.

Then Kureha returned straight home once more, summoned Attorney Sakuragi to her bedroom, and after entrusting him with various detailed matters concerning her absence and contractual obligations, she discreetly disguised the ten-odd actors selected from Kofukebashi Theater's twenty-seven exclusive performers—making them inconspicuous—before secretly departing from Ueno Station and vanishing to parts unknown. This sequence of events was reported by every newspaper following the arrest of Mr. Todoroki's killer, sending shockwaves through the capital that stirred widespread curiosity. However, that too proved but a fleeting moment, and before anyone realized it, people in society had drifted into forgetting such matters as though naturally.

That said, a segment of avant-garde urbanites who had genuinely cherished the flavor of Kofukebashi Theater’s detective plays and supernatural plays did in fact seem to feel a loneliness akin to extinguished flames. Even seeing how the German horror film *Laughing Heart*—neither particularly interesting nor remarkable—that happened to show at a downtown theater drew sold-out crowds day after day vividly attested to this hunger for the bizarre festering in city dwellers' psyches. In fact, among sensitive literary figures, theater critics, and artists, there actually were people fervently writing articles centered around "Miss Kureha eulogies"—with titles like "Save Kofukebashi Theater," "Supernatural Plays and Urbanites," and "Horror Plays and Actresses"—to submit to next month's magazine issues. However, this somewhat pure-hearted melancholy of urbanites was utterly shattered within barely a month thereafter. All the people who saw the full-page advertisement in the September 4th morning editions of Tokyo's ten major newspapers were astonished.

At the center of that full-page advertisement was a roughly five-sun-square photograph of Miss Kureha in her marumage hairstyle, her enchantingly beautiful smile frozen in place as a sliver of white teeth escaped from the corner of her thin, small lips. Around it, large red and black typefaces—ranging from one-sun-square blocks to first-size and second-size characters—overlapped and danced in frenetic whirl. “Kofukebashi Theater Rises Again” “Starring the New Theater Queen, Miss Amakawa Kureha” “Grotesque Detective Drama: Two Hearts” “Original Work: Edgar Allan Poe’s Secret Manuscript” “Recently acquired at the French Paris market for two million francs by Madame Paolo Oderoin, exclusive to the Grand Guignol Theatre” “Adapted by the foremost authority in the field, Mr. Ema Chōsaku” "HORROR-MYSTERY-UNIQUENESS-THRILL-DEMONIC BEAUTY SUPREME" "September 7th - Doors open at 5 PM, Curtain rises at 6 PM" “Special reserved seats: 10 yen” “General admission: 5 yen, 3 yen; No advance sales” Etc., etc.... Then, after a day's interval, the September 6th and 7th morning editions again—strangely enough—excerpted and published every article regarding "the Todoroki murder case" from major newspapers in the capital, with an explanation in size-4 type appended at the bottom as follows:

“Gentlemen, before you watch this play, I ask that you recall.” “On the night of August 3rd, approximately one month ago from today, regarding the mysterious perpetrator who murdered the former owner of this theater...” “At that time, through agile arrangements by relevant authorities, the criminal known as the Savage Brat—real name Ishiguri Kotarō—was arrested within hours of the incident. Yet he has still not uttered a single word regarding his motive for murdering Mr. Todoroki, leaving all circumstances shrouded beneath an immense question mark. However, I declare without hesitation that the astonishing trick employed in *Two Hearts*—a work by the great genius Poe being performed this very day—provides, even a hundred years after its creation, an utterly unexpected key sufficient to erase without residue this colossal question mark hovering over a crime that shocked the entire world.” “The reason I recommended this mysteriously grotesque detective drama *Two Hearts* for the opening night of the revived Kofukebashi Theater lies precisely latent in this very matter—for when the pulsation of the grotesque entity *Two Hearts*, which surges through every hidden corner of modern society, unfolds before your very eyes the truth of how it portrayed this bizarre grand crime and its progression, how violently will it make your pulses pound, reverse the flow in your blood vessels, shiver your entire bodies, and bristle the hairs on your heads?” “Whether one will be driven into a coma of pathos and demonic beauty lies beyond the reach of this author’s imagination—a fact I hereby humbly append.” “September [day] Authored by Ema Chōsaku”

Moreover, at the center of these articles was a crimson question mark shaped like dripping blood—within its circular frame was printed in coarse halftone a figure of Miss Kureha with disheveled hair laughing maniacally while aiming a pistol straight ahead. "Oh… Brother." "Oh, Midori. You look well." "Oh… The turnout tonight is simply dreadful! It’s so... terrifying, isn’t it—" "Yeah. Kofukebashi Theater’s unprecedented record." "It was dreadful getting to this seat. They said they were front special seats, but when I tried entering through the main entrance, I nearly got crushed! I finally managed to ask Mr. Teramoto to let me in through the stage door... Ah, it’s so hot... You’ve been waiting quite a while..."

“Nah. I’ve only just gotten here myself.” “Oh my. Brother, you’ve gotten quite the suntan.” “Finally noticed, did you?” “Heh heh heh.” “This here’s a hot spring tan.” “I’d been making the rounds of nothing but spots with strong UV rays.” “You been okay?”

“Yes. Of course.” “I’d been in Kobe these past four or five days.” “Then this morning, after returning home and seeing your telegram, I rushed here in shock.” “What took you to Kobe?” “That’s just it—how strange it all was. The Tokiwa Film studio in Rokko, you see. They urgently summoned me there in secret. That younger sister of the Alps housewife… surely you remember? Ms. Kimiko who handles their accounts… she’s always been kind to us. Well… she’d asked me, you understand? When Ms. Kimiko and I went to investigate, we suffered through the most dreadful ordeal imaginable, I tell you.”

“Did they make you sing something?” “But here’s the strange part, I tell you. The moment I arrived, someone who looked like a beautician caught me, made me bathe, tied my hair into a traditional maiden’s style, and slathered on this ghastly pale makeup so thick it was downright creepy, I tell you.” “Ah. It’s screen makeup. So then… you were hired as an extra, huh?” “Yes. That’s how it seems, I tell you. They made me fasten this art school band around me without explaining anything about the plot, stood me on something like a school platform, and made me sing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ in Japanese... Then when the song ended after about three minutes, this dirty-looking director-type in work clothes took off his holey hat and said ‘That’ll do.’ They just said ‘Thank you…’ and immediately dove into filming other scenes, I tell you. On top of that, everyone was just staring at me intently, you know. 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 nearly burst into tears, I tell you.”

“You’re such an idiot.” “That’s what you get for playing at being an extra.” “So then, “Then from somewhere in there, Ms. Kimiko suddenly popped out and made me enter the bath once more. While she was having me adjust my appearance, a distinguished gentleman around fifty with a bright red birthmark plastered on his cheek approached me within the set, you see.” “While handing me his business card, he apologized profusely for the outrageous rudeness.” “He said, ‘Please come this way,’ you know.” "He had Ms. Kimiko and me ride in his car to the Mikado Hotel and treated us to a lavish meal on top of that, you know." “Every single day, he had us ride along in his own luxury car to sightsee around Kyoto, Osaka, Nara, and such places, I tell you.” “He said that if there’s anywhere you and Brother would like to build a villa together, please do not hesitate to tell him… And he absolutely praised Brother’s scripts, I tell you.”

“Hey, hey. Aren’t you going out of your mind?”

“No.” “It’s all true, I tell you.” “And then when leaving, they gave me such splendid linen Western clothes, and a diamond ring, and an imported hat and handbag, and shoes, and a trunk, and a first-class sleeper ticket and…”

“Wait a second, Midori—this keeps getting fishier.” “Did you go spit on the kitchen god while I was out or something?” “Oh my! “Then I’ll show you everything once you get home, I tell you.” “And they even gave me a thousand yen on top of it all!” “Three lousy minutes?!” “Yes! “I’ve got it right here!” “Idiot! Cut the crap!” “Enough already!”

“Oh my, you must listen! Then when I came back and met with the manager at Rocky and told him that story... he went pale and said, ‘That Kimiko pulled some outrageous prank...’ you see.” “He went pale as he listened, I tell you.” “Then he suddenly placed his hands before me and said, ‘Thank you ever so much.’” “‘Thank you ever so much for returning.’” “‘When it comes to that man, there’s no competing.’” “‘Please, even if you should ever join Tokiwa Film hereafter, I beg you to honor the agreement as promised regarding the contract on my side…’ he kept bowing and apologizing profusely.” “I’m telling you—this just happened!” “I’ve completely lost track of what’s going on, I tell you.”

“Do you have that business card here?” “Yes. It’s here, I tell you. It’s someone named Danbara. I think I’ve heard that name somewhere before…” “Huh… Danbara… Isn’t that the showbiz king… the greatest in the Orient—” “Oh! Oh right… It’s because I was so focused on the photos that I didn’t notice it, I tell you. I wonder if that person took a liking to me…” “Hmm… This has turned into quite the mess, hasn’t it?”

“What should I do?”

“By the way, how’s your main job at Rocky Records going…”

“That’s another strange thing, I tell you. They only let me record hometown folk songs. When Westerners hear my hometown’s pronunciation, they say it sounds extremely musical, you know. They say if anyone else sings them, it just won’t do…”

“That’s strange.” “Let your guard down，and even that might turn out to be Made in Japan’s doing.”

“That could be true,” “But you know, they say both sides of the ‘Island Maiden’ song I sang were shipped to America twice with seven thousand copies each time.” “So I’m absolutely thrilled this month.” “...I’m astonished.” “It’s almost frightening how quickly you’ve risen to such heights, don’t you think?” “And how about your results, Brother?”

“I’m the complete opposite of you.” “Everything’s an absolute mess!”

“Oh! But I’m so glad you returned safely.” “No— I still don’t know if I’m safe yet. Whether I’m truly out of danger or not…” “Why did you come back so soon…? You said you wouldn’t return until after September 10th…”

“Why? Because I saw that newspaper from the fourth of this month,” he said. “It suddenly made me anxious.” “Oh... Me too,” she replied. “I was terribly worried, I tell you. You see, I’d peeked at the script for this play that Brother sent from Atami before handing it over to Mr. Sakuragi the lawyer. Using such exaggerated advertisements with that Anna script—I thought it was dreadful! It lays bare Ms. Kureha’s entire personal history! It’s not even based on Poe’s original work or anything!”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I was worried about. It’s an impressive case of false advertising, you know. On top of that—that script’s been completely gutted on Ms. Kureha’s orders, hasn’t it? The parts that touch on the core of this incident—there’s nothing else but this! They said it’s fine as long as the performance script gets approved no matter what, so I wrote it exactly like that. Then when I directly sent a long telegram from Tateyama to Lawyer Sakuragi to check the situation, he replied that Ms. Kureha had already left without even properly reviewing the script. This is utterly troublesome. What kind of script readings they’re doing or what rehearsals they’re conducting—I have absolutely no idea at all. I completely brushed aside Manager Kasa’s whole Ishiguri Kotarō mess, sent a telegram to Teramoto from the troupe to reserve these two premium seats, and rushed back after seeing his reply—and in the middle of that, I sent you that telegram.”

“No wonder… I didn’t quite understand what it meant, I tell you. But it said, ‘Contact Teramoto immediately by telephone,’ I tell you. I thought I might have to meet that womanizing actor Anna and got all nervous, I tell you.” “Midori, you’re still as rigid as ever.” “Where is Mr. Kasa right now?” “He should have returned already, you know. He was in Tateyama in Etchū Province, but—”

“Oh!” “Oh...” “To such a place…”

“Yeah.” “Seems your prophecy came true.” “I’ve apparently been treated like Don Quixote by Ms. Kureha all this time.” “Goodness… How could…”

“Why? It’s a ridiculous story.” “Manager Kasa is nothing to worry about.” “The moment I finished writing that script, I went straight after that bastard.” “When I threatened, ‘You’re the culprit…!’ he turned pale in an instant.” “He started making all sorts of excuses.” “He came up with some worthless alibi... Before long, I started getting the feeling this guy wasn’t some fearsome figure to be dreaded like the savage brat.” “But even then, thinking he might still be hiding something, I kept changing my approach while tailing him—then that bastard must’ve thought he’d get killed or something, because he quickly saw through my disguise and started fleeing to hot springs this way and that.” “That guy must really love hot springs, huh.” “And having that bastard’s baboon-like old man act shoved in my face at every stop made me sick and tired of it.” “Honestly…”

“I had mostly assumed it would be something of that sort.” “Then when the fifth of this month came around and we saw that Tokyo newspaper advertisement at Tateyama Hot Springs—to be honest—we were both completely shocked.” “This is terrible!” “The moment we realized nothing short of an outrageous scheme would suffice, we both somehow felt Ms. Kureha had duped us into some staring contest.” “So without knowing who approached whom, we sat knee-to-knee and spoke bluntly—that’s when we noticed how suspicious Ms. Kureha’s exact words to each of us had been.” “Wasn’t this all a ploy to keep us away from Tokyo and out of her production?... Could Ms. Kureha mean to push through this reckless venture—one we’d never approve—entirely alone?... Once that thought took hold, though we kept saying ‘Surely not,’ our anxiety grew until we resolved to catch the first train back.”

“How remarkably insensitive... both of you.” “Don’t say that,” he protested. “Your methods are too masterful, Ms. Kureha.” “And then what became of...?” “Yet when I returned—” Ema’s voice tightened— “every last actor had been silenced, not a word leaking about the play’s plot. Suspecting foul play, I inspected the backstage props... though unclear at first glance, they seemed wholly different from what I’d commissioned. My unease grew keener by the moment.” He wiped his brow. “Fearing I might rouse sleeping vipers, yet compelled to act—just before coming here, I visited the Security Bureau. When I asked Inspector Katayama—that friendly entertainment liaison—to review the performance script again...” A shudder ran through him. “The man seized my wrist like a vise—‘Where did you obtain this scenario?’—his eyes blazing tiger-yellow. I near leapt from my skin, I tell you.”

“...That does seem likely... Hoho...”

“Inspector Katayama’s account goes like this… Those two performance scripts were received from a lawyer named Sakuragi—a petitioner—on August 15th and approved on September 3rd. Then on September 6th—yesterday morning—an Assistant Inspector Watanuki from Ōmori Police Station’s judicial division, who’d seen the newspaper advertisement, suddenly showed up at the Metropolitan Police Department and demanded to see that *Two Hearts* script.” “When I showed it to him thinking it was a simple request, Assistant Inspector Watanuki’s face turned deathly pale as he read... Then, in the middle of saying, ‘My apologies, but could I borrow this script just briefly?’, he snatched it away, stuffed it into his pocket, and raced off on his motorcycle like a man possessed.”

“...Oh, how frightening…” “Then in the evening, when sweat-drenched Assistant Inspector Watanuki came back to express his thanks repeatedly, according to his account—it was dire... That script should be known by no one except the late Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō and the culprit himself.” “Until today, we had no idea how much they had struggled to make the culprit divulge facts matching that script, but thanks to that script falling into their hands, he finally confessed.” “Thinking I must have heard the story from the late Mr. Todoroki through some confidentiality agreement, they read that script aloud to the culprit still held at Ōmori Police Station, made him correct the mistaken parts, and then told him about your production—whereupon he suddenly turned pale and began shouting to stop the performance.” “He said all my painstaking efforts would come to nothing.”

“The savage brat says that…” “Yeah. “With tears streaming down his fearsome face as he wept, ‘This is the most earnest request of my life!’ ‘Though this body bound for execution holds no regrets, I beg mercy for this alone. Please—I implore you—help me!’ ‘Otherwise I’ll bite through my tongue and die here...’ he cried—” Ema’s voice dropped to a theatrical whisper— “then began slamming his forehead against the floorboards until his face became a mask of blood, thrashing about like a madman as he pleaded.”

“...Goodness... How utterly macabre...” “...So when Assistant Inspector Watanuki asked, ‘Then what exactly is this hardship of yours?’, he pleaded, ‘I must beg your forgiveness on this matter alone.’” “At any rate, if that play isn’t stopped, something dreadful will occur.” “Otherwise, let me meet Ms. Amakawa Kureha once more before the performance begins.” “We were driven to despair by his endless ‘Please!’ and senseless tantrums when refused.” “They say death row inmates often make such unreasonable demands and act out like children.” “Even so, with everything being incomprehensible, they’d been in an uproar since yesterday trying to locate me... or so Inspector Katayama from Security Section recounted.”

“Well… and then what did you do…?”

“I’d become utterly bewildered myself, you see.” “As you’ve rightly guessed, that script was just a dramatization—in that tiresome crime-and-punishment style—of exactly what I heard from Mr. Todoroki while he lived.” “So I said ‘I’ll go consult with the judicial division officer at Ōmori Police Station now’ and bolted from the Metropolitan Police Department like a fugitive—that was barely two hours ago.” “Then, sensing danger, I came here and hid backstage.” “If they’d caught me carelessly, I feared I’d miss seeing the play altogether.”

“Oh. So I finally understand the situation now,” said Kureha, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “Listen—no matter what happens, you mustn’t tell the police you heard anything from me.” “Of course,” Ema replied, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. “I’ll claim Mr. Todoroki told me directly. Still, after seeing tonight’s play, I must visit Ōmori Police Station immediately.” His fingers twitched against his notebook’s leather cover. “I should likely meet the culprit too, but without witnessing this staging firsthand...” He trailed off meaningfully. “I can’t possibly devise a proper strategy.”

“Why would the culprit be so afraid of this play?” “If he’s already resolved himself to execution, there should be nothing left to fear…”

“Well... Of course, I wouldn’t know about such things.” “Even so, the atmosphere inside the theater tonight is incredible, isn’t it? When I think that savage brat’s presence might be lurking among this crowd, it makes me feel positively queasy. It’s as though everyone here has the faces of those who came to watch an execution…” “Yeah. This is another one of my worries. That advertisement is certainly a fraudulent piece of exaggerated publicity, isn’t it? First off, the very claim that it’s based on Poe’s original work is complete nonsense... It’s a fabrication I could never have dreamed up. If they figure out tonight’s staging, they’ll definitely get hit with a performance ban.”

“Oh.” “Will tonight’s play be canceled too?”

“No.” “That’s probably not the case.” “No matter how recklessly someone stages a play, as long as it doesn’t concern ideology, public morals, or political matters, there hasn’t been a single instance where police officers attending on-site would stop it… The problem lies with tomorrow’s play.” “Ms. Kureha—aren’t you trying to make a fortune in just one night tonight?” “Prepared to pay the fine…” “That might be the case.” “Then isn’t she an absolutely incredible showman?”

“Yeah,” “Moreover, that’s not all there is to it.” “That woman is not only a peerless actress but also a genius of playwriting and crime criticism... She might even be a poet of the Satanic School.” “I’ve grown terribly nervous for some reason.” “It must be the heat.” “No. I’ve become frightened of Ms. Kureha’s genius myself. Imagining what sort of direction she might devise...”

Such whispered exchanges were unfolding in the front-and-center first-class seats of the first floor. Still travel-weary and rendered even uglier in his laborer-like attire was Ema Chōsaku, while Midori—clad in a pale dress with her Basque beret tilted at a slight angle—appeared as fresh-faced as a schoolgirl; together they formed a contrast so charmingly incongruous it might have delighted the world.

Kurehabashi Theater was, quite literally, a murderously packed house. The crowd was so dense that managing the seating arrangements had apparently become impossible. From the outer corridors to right before the stage, people stood packed like sardines without room to move; though every window from first to third floor stood wide open and electric fans and ventilators worked at full capacity, the fluttering of fans throughout the auditorium showed no sign of ceasing—yet outside the ticket booth, voices still clamored in heated arguments.

When it became five minutes before the scheduled six o'clock start time, a flood of applause erupted wildly from the auditorium. At the very center before the curtain directly facing them, a young tall man in a tailcoat emerged, bowed respectfully to the audience, and began to speak—this being the reason for the applause. At first, his words became drowned beneath blindly enthusiastic applause—as if delighting in such unprecedented overcrowding—rendering them nearly inaudible; but once the crowd’s restless stirring subsided, a youthful clear voice soon began resonating distinctly into every corner.

"Oh! Isn’t that Mr. Teramoto over there?" “Yeah. He used to be quite the tenor exclusively for Rocky." “What a lovely voice…”

“Now then—without further ado—the central appeal of tonight’s performance lies, as advertised, in dramatizing the truly unprecedented psychological state of the culprit who murdered our former theater owner, the late Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō, while simultaneously pinpointing with both precision and shocking unexpectedness the true perpetrator. Of particular note is that what we term the final act shall consist entirely of a monologue and solo performance by Ms. Amakawa Kureha, who has now assumed ownership of this theater.” “Though unworthy to comment within our theatrical sphere, Ms. Amakawa Kureha—that genius actress acclaimed alongside France’s Madame Paolo Oderoine as one of the twin luminaries of grotesque detective drama—shall execute what tremendous direction in her concluding monologue? By what means shall she guide this *Two Hearts* spectacle to its blood-chilling climax? Regrettably, we must inform you beforehand that not a single soul among playwright or company—save Ms. Amakawa Kureha herself—possesses knowledge of these plot particulars.” “…That is to say, we shall proceed under the assumption that all honored attendees here present are already fully apprised of the true circumstances surrounding Mr. Todoroki—the late sovereign of detective drama—and his tragic demise, as exhaustively chronicled in our capital’s myriad newspapers. Therefore, we shall take the liberty of abbreviating any explication regarding those events.” “Furthermore, considering those among us who—through this wholly unexpected and overwhelming patronage—may have found themselves bereft of programs, we shall limit ourselves to briefly outlining each act’s content for their mere reference: each being of a profoundly psychological construction.”

Act I... The Distant Cause of the Detective Drama King’s Murder — A Scene Featuring the Savage Brute Ishiguri Kotarō and Boss Todoroki Hisazo in Action. Scene 2. Act II... The Motives for the Detective Drama King’s Murder and the Murder Scene.

Scene 2. Act III... The Detective Drama King’s Successor, Ms. Amakawa Kureha — Monologue, Solo Performance. The Scene of Revelation. Scene 1. "—End—"

A thunderous applause erupted throughout the auditorium, but this time it immediately fell utterly silent. Amidst the intermittent chill bell tones from a corner of the stage, the curtain started to rise quietly.

All the windows from the first to third floor had been closed without anyone noticing. The auditorium was engulfed in unbearable dimness and stifling heat, yet it was likely due to the ice-cold curiosity generated by thousands of people that the entire space remained razor-sharp. A silence akin to the abyssal seafloor—where not a single fan’s shadow stirred—seeped relentlessly into each person’s left and right eardrums.

Act I, Scene 1 was set in a grassland facing the national highway on the outskirts of Mitsuke Town, Shizuoka Prefecture. Atop a flat stone in the center of the grassland sat the young boss, Todoroki Hisazo. Before him crouched the Savage Brat—Ishiguri Kotarō—disguised as a medicine seller in gold-trimmed robes, legs crossed insolently. From his pocket he drew a pistol and exposed the misconduct of Todoroki's wife, all while brandishing an amethyst hairpin he claimed to have received from her long ago at some unnamed place. With this display, he pleaded for Todoroki to turn a blind eye to the planned assault on the Ryūsen residence. Todoroki Hisazo pondered for a moment, then accepted the amethyst hairpin as proof of his agreement and parted ways with the Savage Brat. After the Savage Brat had left, Todoroki called his wife and caretaker to the grassland, thrust the incriminating hairpin before them, solemnly declared their separation, and resolutely departed while wiping away tears. The Savage Brat, who had been observing the scene from the shadow of the grove, stepped forward and—arms crossed—fixed a bone-chilling sneer upon Todoroki Hisazo's retreating figure,

“I thought I couldn’t drive him out at all… but in this situation, I can’t afford to dawdle.”

nodding to himself as he departed—that was the scene.

Next, as the stage rotated to the scene of the Ryūsen couple’s residence, Todoroki Hisazo took custody of their daughter Mitsue from the couple, had her bid farewell in a roundabout manner, and exited with due solemnity. As night fell on that very scene, the Savage Brat would sneak in, brutally murder the Ryūsen couple, ransack the house to steal a paltry sum of pocket money, and depart—leaving behind a bitter parting remark about having been outmaneuvered by Todoroki Hisazo.

When the curtain closed, everyone sighed in relief and whispered to each other.

“Hey, Brother... Did they rewrite the Ikura part?”

“Yeah. That’s what’s strange.” “This act is mostly exactly as I wrote it down.” “Where did they store such a large prop... Though the scene where the Ryūsen couple was murdered does seem slightly different from how I wrote it.” “There was no part where old man Ryūsen would be bleeding profusely from his head while bowing in prayer like that.” “I figured they’d glare at me for it, so I kept that part vague.” “Do you think the police are here?” “Even if they are here, they won’t say anything tonight—it’s become an unwritten rule, so we’re safe.” “But tomorrow they’ll surely come threatening to shut us down or something.” “Though Ms. Kureha might be performing fully prepared for that outcome.”

“...But at least in this act, you can imagine Mr. Todoroki and Kureha’s former selves, I suppose.” “Oh, come on. Since everyone’s watching this as a play, they won’t go imagining such unnecessary things.”

“Do you think so…? But no one would ever imagine it’s based on Poe’s original work. The way it’s done…” “Hmm.” “Quiet.” “The curtain’s opening… Wait—this is a Western-style room… I distinctly set it as Japanese…” “Shh… shh…”

Act II, Scene 1 depicted Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō's private chamber within Ms. Amakawa Kureha's Ōmori residence. Every detail—from the room's architecture and furnishings to Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō's period-accurate attire—mirrored reality with forensic precision, including the cherry blossoms outside whose every branch replicated their living counterparts down to the last petal.

At the eastern window-side chaise longue where Mr. Todoroki Kyūzō lay stretched out in casual kimono, an actor portraying spiky-haired Ema Chōsaku—dressed in art school uniform—sat near his extended feet. Before them stood a girl bearing Midori’s exact likeness, her music school ribbon neatly tied, performing a solo using Midori’s record as accompaniment. Mr. Todoroki listened with eyes narrowed in apparent bliss. "My youthful hopes spread vivid blue across the sky—

“O vast sky where radiant clouds drift—ah, vast sky!” “My youthful thoughts—boundlessly clear, they spread “Winds carelessly blow through—O vast sky, ah, vast sky!” “Hmm.” “Your voice has grown remarkably splendid.” “Education truly is something to be grateful for.”

The siblings bowed their heads simultaneously. “Thank you very much.”

“Ah. You’ve worked hard. Thanks to that, I feel at ease… Hmm. Now then… Since I’ll be having dinner with my daughter Mitsue for the first time in ages today, you all should come and join us.” The two exchanged looks and rejoiced.

“Hahaha. Are you happy?”

“Thank you very much.” “Uncle. Thank you.” “Hmm. “You’ve become quite skilled with your words.” “You’re no different from Japanese people now.” “Hahaha.” “How about it?” “You all—between Japan and Korea, which do you prefer?” “I prefer Japan.” “Why do you prefer Japan?” “In Korea, there’s no one like you who dotes on foreigners.” “Hahaha. “Foreigners had it good, didn’t they?” “What about you, Midori?” “I do so wish to see the Tumen River once more.”

“Hmm, hmm. I understand that feeling. Back in those days, I went through a great deal of hardship with you all in the snow, you know.”

“Uncle would catch salmon every day and bring them for us to eat.”

“Ahahaha.” “Now then—you’ve been living day after day with Mitsue as if you were siblings ever since then. But tell me—if something were to happen to this old man from now on, could you keep getting along just as well as before?” “For reference, I’d like to ask…”

“We can.” “I really like Ms. Kureha.” “What about you, Midori?” “I... I like you... terribly. But... I feel... rather frightened.” “What’s there to be afraid of? Why…?” Midori leaned bashfully. Mr. Todoroki also laughed awkwardly while stroking his face. “There’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of. She’s got a strong competitive streak, and having seen nothing but the world’s underbelly since childhood—that’s how she ended up like that.” “In truth, she’s actually quite sentimental—a deeply sincere person at heart.”

“Ms. Kureha is a remarkable woman.” “She knows everything about anything.” “Why, she can critique Decadent poetry and Futurist paintings—it left me utterly dumbfounded.” “Hmm. She might’ve absorbed my influence. “I too was once an ordinary, sentimental soul—but in rushing to become someone grand, I betrayed my nature and took life’s reverse course. Now my eyes and ears perceive things wholly unlike common folk. “I’ve grown so enamored of demonic deeds that satisfaction eludes me. “Hahaha. “No need to tremble, Midori… To you siblings, I’m no demon at all. “Just a common, common softhearted man… It’s to occasionally return to that common self and catch my breath that I’ve raised you all… Bah—what dreary talk. “Come again this evening. “I’ll send the maid to fetch you once dinner’s ready…”

“Uncle… Farewell…” “Sir… Farewell…”

“Ah… Farewell…”

When the two exited, Mr. Todoroki pressed the call bell, ordered the maid who entered to summon Mitsue, and stretched out on the chaise longue.

A prominent peach-parting hairstyle. A crimson furisode. Kureha, her obi entirely of gold thread tied in the shape of a standing arrow, bustled into view.

“Oh… Father.” “Did you call for me?”

“...Hmm.” “Come here...” “...I’m glad.” “Will you take me to another play again?” As Miss Kureha clung to him coquettishly, Mr. Todoroki—having lifted her up and risen—stood, locked the entrance door, drew the window curtains shut while laughing unnervingly, then returned to the chaise longue and gathered Kureha’s body into his arms. “Today, I have a request for you.” Adopting a graver tone, he began recounting their shared history—summarizing events from the previous act—and revealed they were not truly parent and child.

Hunching her shoulders at each word, closing her eyes as if haunted yet listening with a coldness so strange it was almost wondrous, Kureha eventually raised her chilly black eyes and smiled. “So... what is this request you’re asking of me...” Mr. Todoroki suddenly began streaming tears and, with an impassioned demeanor, grasped Kureha’s hands.

“I… I’ve lived all this time thinking that once I’d raised you into a proper adult, I’d have you avenge your parents’ enemies—making that my sole purpose in life.”

“...Oh... Such things... I don’t really care about that.” “If you’ll just keep cherishing me as you always have, that’s all I need.” “Ugh... Th-that’s... that’s right. B-but lately... I... a demon has taken hold of me.” “Of course I will never... ever forget the original purpose.” “I will... I will make sure to see it through.” “That wild barbarian brat is your lifelong enemy, so as you requested the other day, I’ve resolved to have him killed in the most terrifying... most satisfying way possible—in a place where no one will ever know—and right now, in utmost secrecy, preparations are rapidly progressing in the basement of this house...”

“Oh… Really…” “It’s true, I tell you. Though it’ll take two… twenty-three years or so, I expect. It’s going to be a pain—” “I’m glad.” “I shall wait in anticipation.” “But... you see... By this point… on top of that… another… separate purpose… ha… has begun to take root in my heart. Th... the more I try to impose that purpose… the more this feeling swells… grows stronger… until I… I can’t endure it another day… not… not even a single day more.”

“Oh. And what might this ‘other purpose’ be?” “I... I... I’ve come to want to make you truly mine.” “Ah…” Mr. Todoroki streamed tears like a waterfall and pressed both hands to his face. Kureha instinctively leapt back, grabbed a nearby chair as a small shield, and laughed coldly. “Oh. You’re such a fool.” “I’m still not yours.” “On top of this... What exactly are you telling me to do now...?” “U... Even if it’s a lie... O... Just pretend to be my wife... and serve me.”

“Oh. How dreadful of you. You’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

Mr. Todoroki slid down from the chaise longue with a scraping sound and pressed both hands flat against the floor. He bowed his head repeatedly like a beggar. “S-so that’s how it is. Th-thinking you’d help... these feelings of mine...” Kureha, still clinging to the back of the chair, leaned back as if helpless and let out a shrill, mocking laugh. “Hohohohohohohohoho! What a strange man you are.” “Hohohohohohohoho...” Even as the lights extinguished amidst that laughter and plunged the theater into total darkness, the laughter persisted—now seductively, now bizarrely, now mysteriously—before dissolving into suppressed snickers that continued bewitching the entire audience.

Gradually, that laughter faded away—lonely-sounding, sorrowful-sounding—until it abruptly cut off, whereupon the stage lit up brightly and became the second scene of Act Two.

Kureha's figure was nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Todoroki—wearing a dark morning coat with striped trousers and white waistcoat—sat alone in the swivel chair before his office desk, blowing on a gold-tipped cigarette as he looked at the large clock facing him that showed 1:25. Outside the window with its left curtain drawn, lightning flickered incessantly, and through it, the cherry tree before the window could now be seen in full leaf. Before that lightning, a masked barbarian brat appeared and tapped rhythmically on the windowpane. When Mr. Todoroki stood up and opened it for him, the barbarian brat—his legs bound like sticks—entered holding a pistol in one gloved hand.

“Hahaha. You kept your promise well.”

Mr. Todoroki gave the prepared check to the barbarian brat. “Next time, come barging in through the front door in broad daylight.” “Nighttime’s just a goddamn nuisance.”

“Don’t you dare pull any cowardly shit.” “I am Todoroki Kyūzō.” “You need to stay roaming free a while longer.” “Today’s an exception, but I’ll give you five hundred yen each month from now on.” “Rest assured you’ll last two-three years at least.” “So when’re you plannin’ to finish me off?” “That remains unclear.” “The setup’s nearly done in this house’s basement—equipment to douse your head in oil, set it aflame, make you die raving mad.” “My new spectacle... surpasses Grand Guignol.” “Meant to use you for its grand opening show but—”

“That’s a mighty considerate idea you’ve had there, ain’t it.” “But I’ll tell you straight—I’m always the real headliner here.” “The opening act’s you? If it ain’t your daughter, I’ll have to pass.” “That’s acceptable as well.” “But there still ain’t no spectators.” “We need at least twenty or thirty members who can bring in a thousand yen per head—otherwise, the abacus won’t balance for all the expenses I’ve sunk into you up till now.” “Don’t you get careless now.” “Ha ha ha.

“That’s my line.” “As long as you’ve got money, I gotta keep you breathin’.” “I ain’t so senile yet that I’d get my hand caught in my own cashbox… Hah.” “Stop your yappin’ and scram.” “I’m sleepy.” Mr. Todoroki slammed shut the window through which the barbarian brat had exited, scanned the footprints on the floor, and—cigar lit between his teeth—paced about deep in thought when he caught a faint electric bell’s ring,

“Hmm?” “The telephone, perhaps?”

Muttering to himself, he went out into the hallway. Taking his place appeared Kureha through the left-hand door—an uncanny vision with a large white marumage chignon pinned by jade hairpins, a crimson underrobe beneath a black gossamer furisode, a silver-threaded obi sash, white tabi socks, and felt zōri sandals. She fixed her eyes on the bizarre footprints, followed each to the window and back, peered into the checkbook atop the desk with a nod, bit her lip sharply, and swept her gaze around the room while deep in thought—when suddenly she clapped her hands sharply, smiled sweetly, glanced back at the entrance door with cruel eyes, snatched up the dagger-shaped knife from the desk and swiftly hid it within her obi. At that precise moment, Mr. Todoroki—having finished his telephone call—returned, calmly shut the door behind him, and froze upon facing Kureha standing there.

“Wh— What— What’s this now— Do you need something—”

“Yes. I’ve come to hear your response regarding the matter I humbly requested of you earlier today.” “Is this about wanting to marry Midori?” “Yes… From your perspective, it may seem as trivial as a caged bird longing to escape… But I—I’ve suddenly grown desperate these days to… to finally put an end to this mistaken life I’ve led until now.”

“No way… Such foolishness… You don’t even know my feelings…” “Oh-ho. “You’re angry now, aren’t you?” “Oh-ho. “As I’ve said countless times—I fully comprehend all the kindness you’ve shown me through these long years up till today.” “…But… I too am flesh and blood, you realize.” “I’m no dog or cat born to be your doll from the cradle.” “Enough! I’m sick to death of being coddled in this twisted, unnatural way all this time!”

“Hah... hah... Do as you please.” "You idiot." “Don’t you realize you’re alive because of me?” “Are you truly determined to forbid this…?”

“If I say it’s impossible, it’s impossible.”

Having said that dismissively, he sat down in the swivel chair and began tidying up the office desk.

“Oh?” “The paper knife is missing.” “The sheath’s right here… You don’t know anything about this…?” “I don’t know.” “Such things…” “That blade’s a premium Trade-made product. Sharper than a scalpel—dangerous if it goes missing. Needs to stay sheathed…” “Very well then.” “I will marry Midori. No matter what.” “I’ll make certain Midori sings lullabies in this house.” “……………………”

"No matter what you say, I will absolutely, absolutely not allow such cruelty as expelling Ms. Midori." “...Do as you damn well please!” "You... half-baked... crippled... damn fool...!" “Now... “That’s fine… Hmm?” “Hmm… I too… am of age now… you know…” As she spoke these words, Kureha moved behind Mr. Todoroki—while feigning affection by pressing her cheek against him over the swivel chair—retrieved the dagger from her obi, concealed it beneath her pale arm to bring it near his chest, then abruptly gripped it with both hands and thrust it forcefully into him.

“Gah... Wh-what are... doing... GAAH... Mmmph—!”

At that moment from beyond the glass window, the savage-faced youth peered in with his masked visage. The lightning flashes intensified violently. While evading Mr. Todoroki's hands still clawing at empty air, Kureha meticulously wiped the cross-shaped hilt of the embedded blade with a handkerchief. She retrieved the savage-faced youth's threatening letter from the bottom desk drawer, pocketed one sheet after restoring its original order, and—while painstakingly wiping fingerprints from the drawer's surface by breathing repeatedly onto them and polishing with her handkerchief—suddenly heard a *knock-knock* against the windowpane. She gasped and spun around.

Outside the window, the savage-faced youth removed his mask, bared white teeth in a squint-eyed smile, and gestured as if to say “Open here.” Kureha retrieved the pistol from the drawer with trembling hands, wrapped it in her underrobe sleeve, approached with her finger on the trigger, then twisted the latch open using the same underrobe sleeve. The savage-faced youth remained standing outside, still laughing as he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Ms. Kureha. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

“……………………” “I’m your most devoted fan—the kind who’d risk his life for you. No matter how dangerous it got, I never missed a single one of your plays, and I’ve collected over a thousand bromides of you. Ha ha.” “……………………” “But you don’t need to worry. There’s really no need… See, I…” “……………………” “See, I… You may already know this, but I’ve been acquainted with you and that Mr. Todoroki for quite some time. That villain Todoroki Kyūzō—the one who used me as a pawn and had your parents killed—is someone I’ve had an old grudge against. That bastard just handed over two thousand yen and left not a moment ago… But damn if his way of giving wasn’t something splendid. In case that bastard might snitch to the police, I called him out from a public telephone on the way, told him another matter had come up, and when I turned back to check, the front door we’d agreed on wouldn’t open. I thought something was off, so when I came here to check things out, I ended up seeing everything... Heh heh... You don’t need to worry about a thing. Ms. Kureha. Exactly what I was thinkin’ you’d do—so I oughta be thankin’ you. Thanks to you, I’ve got no lingering regrets left either. Heh heh… Thanks a lot, thank ya.”

“……………………” “Heh heh.” “So even if I get arrested, I ain’t gonna spill a word about tonight’s business.” “I’ll shoulder everything you’ve done.” “Even with a hundred necks, this body wouldn’t be enough to pay for it all. Ha ha ha.” “……………………” Kureha dropped the pistol, staggered backward until she stopped, clutched both sleeves tightly to her chest, and stared fixedly at the savage-faced youth’s face.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. “In exchange for that... young lady. “If by any chance I make it out clean... somewhere... even just once... hear me proper... will ya...?”

“……………………”

The savage-faced youth hung his head and muttered as if praying to God. The sound of distant thunder… "But for someone like me, that might be way beyond my reach." "So if I do get arrested, taking on your sins would be my one and only pleasure." "Heh heh." "But see—the heart of someone like me ain’t nobody gonna understand ’cept a woman like you." "……………………"

The savage-faced youth wiped his tears and smirked slyly. "Heh heh." "And another thing..." "Sorry fer spoutin' this clingy drivel, but tomorrow mornin', sleep in good—consider it offerin' incense fer me at least." "We can't have Todoroki Kyūzō's corpse gettin' found too quick." "'Cause you gotta go collect the cash from the bank." "Listen up." "I'm beggin' ya."

As he spoke, his figure vanished into the darkness, leaving only his cheerful voice behind. “Whoa there… Best leave that window wide open as it is. If you keep it closed up tight, a noose’ll end up around your neck. Ha ha ha ha ha ha…”

Before long came the pattering sound of rain... A fierce flash of lightning...

After seeing him off, Kureha let out a sigh of relief. With a mocking smile playing on her lips, she meticulously wiped the entrance door's handle with her sleeve cuff before proceeding to center stage beneath the bluish-tinged footlights. Fluttering her large eyes in feigned astonishment, she swept her gaze across the sea of spectators filling the auditorium. Then... from the ceiling behind her descended what appeared to be a brand-new curtain of pure white satin, smoothly unfurling like mist to veil the entire stage from view.

“Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee... Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho... Ha-ha-ha-ha—”

Kureha’s boundlessly cheerful, bright laughter rippled through the entire hall with a shudder.

Abruptly, from a corner of the hall, a low yet piercingly shrill, panicked voice arose. “It’s a play! It’s a play! “Just acting! “Don’t flinch! “Steady... Steady the stage... Ah! “This ain’t good—this ain’t good! “Fainting spells—fainting spells! “Someone—quick—come...!” The young man’s voice constricted the hall’s atmosphere with even greater intensity.

Yet not a single person even turned to look in the direction of that voice. The hall froze solid like a colossal floral ice sculpture packed with thousands of people. Amidst it all, Kureha's laughter once again began to sparkle through—splendidly, proudly.

“Hohohohohoho... Hahahahaha… How does this strike you, ladies and gentlemen… have you come to understand? It was I who killed Todoroki Kyūzō. Ladies and gentlemen, it was I—who received such excessive favor from all of you and was so dearly cherished by Todoroki Kyūzō—who did this. Ho ho ho... Ha ha ha ha ha…" "...As for the true reason I committed this murder... if you would be so kind—please reconsider tonight's play from Act One once more. You dear patrons who so kindly favor this theater’s detective plays—I have no doubt you will discern it immediately."

“…I was the firstborn son born to my father, Amakawa Ryūsen, in his old age—it is. “And so, even now at nineteen years of age, I remain a boy named Amakawa Mitsue—it is. “Ha ha ha... Ho ho ho... My biological father Ryūsen being an old-fashioned man—from that superstition claiming an elderly parent’s only child will grow safely if raised as the opposite gender—a girl as a boy, a boy as a girl—he deliberately registered me at the ward office as a girl named Mitsue. Thus raised entirely as a girl while gradually maturing, even I myself became unable to discern whether I was male or female—from voice to appearance... to the very heart—until I ended up entirely feminine in every aspect—it is. “Even now, as I utter these words, I see many among you ladies and gentlemen still firmly convinced I am a woman through and through—it is. “Hohohohohoho... Hahahahahaha…”

“However—it was around this time that my heart—buried beneath such feminine habits—began to awaken as a man,” she declared with theatrical precision, her voice resonating through the frozen auditorium. “And so—in tonight’s performance—as you have all witnessed—that persistent, perverse love of Todoroki Kyūzō became utterly unbearable to me! Out of an anguish I could no longer suppress—this desperate yearning to unite with that pure soprano songstress Ms. Midori—I committed such reckless acts! Acts that forced this great city’s beloved patrons into undue distress—distress for which I can never atone!” Her laughter cascaded like shattered glass before deepening in pitch. “Yet crueler still—that savage-faced murderer who burned with passion for my feminine guise! Consumed by his twisted devotion—he staked his very life to conceal my crimes! Through his sacrifice have I endured in this mortal realm—that I might stand once more before your cherished eyes in this theatrical guise!”

“It’s a play! It’s a play!” “Incredible... Incredible...” “Ah… unbearable…” The entire audience’s collective sigh swirled like wind through bamboo grass—swelling heavily for an instant before falling utterly silent. “But I beg you all—listen well.” “Having committed this grave sin, I found myself awakening as if from a dream.” “I became able to quietly reflect upon myself.” “Awakened as a man, I now awoke to a man’s conscience.” “For one such as myself—neither demon nor beast, nor snake nor bird—to love someone as pure as the goddess Ms. Midori is a mistake.” “My bloodstained breath must not cloud even a mote of Ms. Midori’s flawless countenance.” “I came to deeply understand—these putrid fingers must never touch Ms. Midori’s immaculate flesh. It was solely to make her comprehend this feeling, however slightly, that I conceived this play.” “...Thus when this play concludes, I’ve prepared to transfer all my possessions—a trifling farewell gift—to Ms. Midori through my advisor.” “...I believe Ms. Midori will surely accept these sentiments.” “And I trust she’ll sincerely care for that pitiful murderer—that savage-faced youth—to lighten his sentence however possible.”

“It’s a play… It’s a play…” “Hohohoho… Truly, it is indeed.” “This world is nothing but a play, it is indeed…” “Therefore I too—having been permitted to stage this final performance—must now lower the curtain on this utterly nonsensical bizarre detective drama, this most demonic of plays that has consumed my entire life, it is indeed.” “…for I could no longer maintain this pretense of ascending the gallows hand-in-hand with that savage-faced youth—it is.” “Because I wished to live solely for my own truth—it is.”

"...My dear audience... How bittersweet this parting is—but Amakawa Kureha must now vanish completely and forever from your sight."

"...Then, ladies and gentlemen... farewell... fare you well." From behind the large, dewy bangs of Amakawa Kureha—her head bowed low, low—pearl-like tears trickled down, glistening in the footlights. "It’s a play… It’s a play…"

“B-Bastard... This isn’t a play... It’s not a play! S-Stop it...!”

Suddenly, a young man in yukata who had cried out began desperately scrambling to climb onto the high wooden stage from the leftmost front-row seats. Amakawa Kureha cast a cold sidelong glance at this commotion and, without panic or fuss, reached into her inner kimono pocket to withdraw an old-fashioned nickel-plated five-shot revolver that glinted sharply. She pressed the muzzle against the center of her white Fuji-shaped forehead and tightly closed her eyes—or so it seemed in that instant— ——A thunderous shot rang out——.

Kureha, her beautiful profile dyed crimson in an instant, smiled serenely and pressed her palms together. Leaving a rainbow-like spray of blood upon the white curtain behind her, she collapsed before the footlights. The yukata-clad man who had finally clambered up from the audience seats threw himself onto Kureha's body in a desperate lunge. With his neatly parted hair now wildly disheveled, he faced forward and shouted in a voice thick with anguish.

“Da—Someone get over here! It’s not a play!”

That was Officer Fumizuki of the Omori Police Station. From the sides and beneath the curtain amidst that scene, four or five people led by Manager Kasa rushed over and carelessly lifted Kureha's body, carrying it off toward the left.

Accompanied by the cold chime of a bell, the crimson main curtain began to descend quietly from the ceiling. In the center of the curtain, in dazzling golden lettering so large it hurt the eyes, was embroidered “To Ms. Amakawa Kureha” “Danbara Manpei” was embroidered. Thunderous applause and roaring cheers—like ten thousand storms crashing down—swirled madly through the auditorium. There were even those who blew frenzied, piercing whistles.

And then, like a great swarm of maggots scrambling to be first, they began surging and jostling toward the entrance in an avalanche-like collapse.

“It’s a play… It’s a play…” “Thorough realism theater to the very end!” “Incredible… Incredible… A profound drama!” “...Idiot... That’s not it.” “It’s a bizarre psychological drama, this is…” “Ah, it was amazing!” “That was wonderful!” “Never thought it’d go that far!” Then again—as if suddenly remembering—they turned back from all directions to send forth a storm of applause. Yet amidst that multitude, only two did not applaud. Those were the Ema siblings sitting in the center of the front premium seats. The Ema siblings stared at the center of the now-curtained stage with expressionless eyes wide open, like attached puppet envoys. Even after the entire crowd had vanished, they remained rigid-cheeked—not blinking, not moving—steadfastly gazing at the crimson curtain.

The Ema siblings sat there like fixed puppet envoys, their expressionless eyes wide open as they stared at the center of the stage where the curtain had fallen. Long after every last figure in the hall had vanished, they remained there together—cheeks stiffened, not blinking once, not moving a muscle—staring fixedly at the crimson curtain.