Pathway to Japanese Literature

A single road running through the city was crossed by railroad tracks at the very point where it was about to enter the red-light district. That spot was dangerous. The defendant was the crossing guard at that railroad crossing. When he blocked the road with a chain late last night, he got into a struggle with a drunken man. The drunken man pressed the chain that the guard was restraining against his stomach and kept forcing his way forward relentlessly. Just then, a downbound freight train passed through the railroad crossing. The drunken man was thrown and run over to death. Therefore, as the crossing guard’s very role was to prevent such deaths from being run over beforehand, the examining magistrate had no choice but to harbor sufficient doubt regarding the guard’s psychological state during that struggle—if only to determine whether the drunkard’s death was murder or mere accident. Moreover, he discovered various pieces of evidence that could more firmly substantiate those doubts. First, the crossing guard was a poor single man. Second, the victim was a wealthy libertine. Third, the railroad crossing where the guard was stationed served as the entrance to the red-light district. However, rendering a clear verdict upon this defendant was no easy matter, precisely because the case itself was psychological. First of all, even the fact that there had been no eyewitnesses to the current state of the incident made the judge realize that this interrogation method would prove utterly futile through ordinary means.

“You said you were forty-one.” “What if you were to take a wife?” “Are you struggling to make ends meet?”

"No, I’m not having any particular trouble." "So does that mean there are none you find desirable?" "There’s no one who would come to me." “Hmm. Then wouldn’t it suffice to keep searching until someone comes along?” “I’ve already been married three times as it is.” “Three times?” said the judge with a brief chuckle. "And how did that happen?" "They all ended up dead."

“Hmm. So they died, and that’s why there’s no one coming to you?” “No, I believe it’s because all three died from the same illness.”

“All three had the same illness? I see. And what kind of illness was that?” When he asked this, the judge detected a peculiar smile that evoked fear rising from the depths of the defendant’s sunken eye sockets. Then, even as he thought this man must be suffering from severe neurasthenia, he briefly considered whether the fourth character in “membrane”—the gynecological disease the defendant had mentioned—was 「月」 or 「氵」, before immediately proceeding to his next question.

“So then, did you not drink any alcohol at all that night?” “I did not drink.” “You usually drink, don’t you?” “I wouldn’t say I drink that much.”

“You were the original crossing guard at that railroad crossing from the beginning, weren’t you?”

"Yes." "It’s said you’ve never made a single mistake—is that true?" "When my wife had been alive, she would sometimes handle them. "I never made any."

“How many years have you been working at the railroad crossing?”

“Nineteen years.” “Nineteen years, hmm.” This fellow is quite timid, thought the judge. “When you say nineteen years—how old were you when you started? Twenty?” “I was twenty-five when I began. At first I made small errors. Yet even when I recognized them as mistakes, others never noticed.”

The judge couldn’t quite grasp why the defendant would volunteer such information unprompted. “When you say ‘my mistakes,’ what exactly do you mean?” “When a train’s due to arrive, I can sense it even without checking the signal or being nearby. But if I let my mind wander, I don’t notice until it’s practically upon me.” “In those moments, I panic and yank the chain—but it’s always after half the train’s already crossed.” “So you’re saying you mustn’t let yourself think?”

“Yes, I mustn’t let myself think.” “When you say ‘thinking,’ what kind of thoughts do you mean? What would you say they’re like?” “I think about my wife.” “Didn’t you say you don’t have a wife? Ah, right—so you mean your three wives? Then which one do you feel most drawn to?” “The first wife.” “Was she kind?” “No.” “You loved her, didn’t you?” “It’s not as you say, but for some reason, the first one often comes to mind.”

“The first one... hmm. It seems those were happy times for you.” “Were they happy?”

"When I look back now, I do think so." "These days, do you have anything that brings you joy?"

“No.” “Nothing at all?”

“Yes.” “Then your job must be unpleasant too, I suppose.” “Yes.” “Do you dislike your job?” “Yes, I don’t particularly care for it.”

“Hmm. So you’re aware, then, that even if someone were killed at your railroad crossing outside your duty hours, you wouldn’t be held responsible—is that right?” “Yes, I am well aware of that.”

“It’s said the man who was run over on the third night was drunk—that must be fact.” “Yes.”

"Now then, try to recount the circumstances of that time as precisely as possible. Don’t you dare lie.” "Yes, that’s correct. Well, since there was still some time before the 12:20 freight train was due to arrive, I went to check on the moso bamboo I had planted that evening." “Ah, wait a minute—how long has it been since you started living alone?”

"Four years."

“Four years, hmm. Do you like plants?” “Yes, I like them very much.” “Alright, alright. Then what did you do?”

“After that, I thought of doing something, but since there was nothing to do, I pulled the chain.” “At that moment, a drunken man came down the slope and demanded to be let through.” “Was the freight train making noise at that time?” “Yes, it was already making noise.”

“You should have just let him through, shouldn’t you?” “Yes, I always make it a rule that even if there’s enough time to pass after I’ve pulled the chain once, I don’t let anyone through.” “At that time too, I did not let him through.” “Then that man said, ‘Then I’ll get through!’ and tried to push his way through by pressing his stomach against the middle of the chain I was pulling.” “I was pulling with all my might, but before long, I too was dragged two or three steps along with it.” At that moment, I thought, “It’s coming.” “Your Honor must be familiar with the sound of freight trains, but their noise is strangely different from ordinary passenger trains.” “The sound of that train remains just as intense whether it’s still some distance away or right up close.” “Moreover, with it being pitch-dark that night and the freight train itself jet-black, I couldn’t clearly tell how far it had approached.” “That’s precisely why freight trains are the most terrifying.” “I was pulling the chain with all my might at that moment, but that man had already moved quite close to the tracks.” “Admittedly, if I had gone over and either pushed him away or pulled him back, that man might have been saved. But truth be told, I was utterly terrified by then, and moreover, hearing that freight train’s noise up close—it made me strangely disoriented.” “How should I put it... I just became completely dazed, you see.” “It was like being sucked into the wind—somehow my breath caught sharply, and I felt dizzy.” “Even so, I believe I pulled the chain with considerable force, but amidst that, when I thought a sudden gust of wind had come, I remember my hand holding the chain hurting terribly.” “When I did so, that man suddenly darted right before my eyes.”

The Judge thought the Defendant’s manner of speaking was too polished.

“Wait a minute—was there anyone watching at that time?” he started to ask, but fearing this would reveal his own thoughts,

“Was there anyone nearby?” he asked. “No, there wasn’t anyone.”

The defendant immediately answered. The fact that he had been able to answer so promptly and clearly suggested he had been conscious during the crime that there were no witnesses—further intensifying the judge’s suspicions. “Hmm... So there was no one. And yet we have someone claiming they saw it. Their account doesn’t quite align with yours.” “You’re not lying, are you?” lied the judge. “You couldn’t have known that.” “It was dark—you probably couldn’t see clearly.” “Which side were they on?” asked the defendant, his composure faltering. This faltering revealed to the judge that his testimony mingled deceit with invention.

“When that drunken man tried to drag the chain through, why didn’t you stop him with your hands?”

"I thought the chain would suffice." "Did you say anything to stop that man?"

"No, since I thought he was drunk, I chose not to engage."

“Hmm, indeed. However, if you realized he was drunk, shouldn’t that have been improper to still try stopping him with the chain?”

“No, that’s not correct. The chain was more effective! Ordinary people might all think that way, but anyone in this line of work would use the chain to stop them. Moreover, trying to stop him with my hands—given what kind of man he was—would have only led to a fight.” “That does seem reasonable. It likely would have led to a fight. Now then—did you know from the start who that man was?” “I did recognize him.”

“Didn’t that man say something to you at first? When you stopped him with the chain—didn’t he say something?” “Well, he did say something. He was saying something or other. He said something like, ‘What the hell are you doing? Don’t fuck around!’”

“Is that all?”

“No, he said something else as well.” “I remained silent.” “What did he say—that man?” “‘Do you think you can stop me?’” “‘I’m telling you—I’ll get through!’ he also said something like that.” “Hmm, so that’s all? He didn’t say anything else?”

"I don't remember anymore. He seemed to be rambling about something entirely different, but I couldn't make sense of what it was about." "You have a reputation for stopping pedestrians too early in your daily duties. What do you mean by that?" "I believe stopping people earlier is safer and more advisable." "Is that truly all there is to it?"

“Yes, that’s all.” “Have you ever found stopping people amusing?” “That’s correct. When you put it that way, I suppose I did sometimes feel that way.” “Why did you come to find it amusing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t you recall when you first began to find such amusement?”

“It seems to have been from the start.” “So you must have always found it amusing, after all.”

“That’s not the case at all.”

“You’ve reportedly often quarreled with pedestrians when blocking the road in recent years—do you recall any of that?”

“Yes.” “So you do quarrel?” “Yes, when I stop people even slightly early, such quarrels often occur.” “It’s said this has grown worse in recent years—but I suppose it’s true?”

“That is correct. I also feel it may have grown somewhat worse.” “The fact that you began to find amusement in it—wasn’t that after you became single?” “No, that’s not it. That isn’t the case.” “Hmm, but is stopping people on the road really that amusing?” “I don’t know why, but I feel as though this road is my territory.” “I see. Since your occupation is nothing more than a job that exhausts you mentally without yielding any tangible results, it can’t be amusing.”

“Yes.” “Don’t you get tired?” “I do get tired.” “I suppose so. Nineteen years—you’ve served well.” “Have you ever been ill?” “I did sometimes fall ill.” “Hmm, do you ever go to the brothel district?”

“I don’t go.”

“Don’t you want to go?” “There are times I’d like to go.”

“Then why don’t you just go?” “Even if I went, it’s pointless.”

“Why is that?” “It doesn’t satisfy me—it’s too foolish.” “Don’t you have money?”

“I have money,” said the defendant. After a pause, he added quietly while looking down, “It’s a problem.” “Hmm. So it appears rumors about you have spread even to the brothel district.”

The defendant remained silent. "When did you stop going?" "I haven't gone for over a year now." "I see. And how was that last time?" "In other words, what exactly happened to you?" "Did something happen that made you find it uninteresting?" "When I go, they make unpleasant faces." "Hmm. Unpleasant faces, you say? What exactly did they say?" "Yes."

“What did they say?”

"They say a ghost has come." "Hmm—do you know what that means?" "Though it must concern you... Yes—a ghost then?" "I think it must mean my wife."

“Hmm, I see. That is a troublesome matter.” “Why don’t you just visit brothels farther away?” “Or perhaps there exists some alternative requiring no such visits?”

“No, there isn’t.”

“There isn’t? That must be inconvenient for you. “Do you sleep well at night?” “I can’t sleep.”

“I suppose that’s how it is. Do you dream?” “Yes, I often have dreams.” “What kind of dreams do you have most often?”

“I often dream of teeth falling out.” “And I also sometimes dream of ripe persimmons plopping down stickily.”

“Hah! What sort of dream did you have the night before that drunken man passed through?” “I don’t remember clearly.” “Hmm. Can’t recall? When you saw that drunken man—what did you think? You assumed he was a libertine, didn’t you?” “Yes. I believed he’d eventually go carousing.”

“Was that man wealthy?”

“Yes.” “What feelings arise in you whenever you see those libertines?” “Because I’m used to it, no particular feelings arise.” “Your duty hours were twelve o’clock at night, weren’t they?” “Yes.” “Considering that, what’s going on with you keeping watch even outside your duty hours?” “That has become a habit. Only when I can’t sleep do I make it a rule to keep watch. That way suits me better.”

“When you say ‘suits me better’...” “That way, in other words, just feels easier for me.” “So it’s not out of concern for others, then.” “Yes.” “That street is on a slope, and your crossing has heavy foot traffic, so wouldn’t it be better to keep watch until later?” “I can’t afford to think about such things. Since I can’t fall asleep right away, if I’m not at least keeping watch, it becomes distressingly unbearable.” “Have you ever considered what kind of reputation passersby and neighbors give regarding your pulling the chain too early and keeping watch until late at night?”

“Yes, I do think that isn’t spoken of favorably.”

“So instead of striving to avoid being thought ill of by people, you’d rather do what amuses you—is that what you’re saying?” “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose that’s how it is. But I’ve resolved not to concern myself anymore with what others might say. If I were to worry about such things every day, it would feel so foolish that I couldn’t possibly keep doing that job.”

The defendant paused briefly, “Whatever you do to me now is fine,” he said, looking up at the judge.

He’s taken the initiative, the judge thought. He knew now that having come this far, he must begin slightly muddling the defendant’s mind. Moreover, the more earnest that face of the defendant’s—the one that had seized initiative—appeared, the more brazen it struck him. Yet at the same time, he thought that very audacity—while complicating their psychological relationship—would inevitably create an opening allowing penetration into the core of his suspected incident.

“Do people in society appear to you as your allies?” “I have never considered such things.”

“When you blocked the crossing, didn’t you ever feel people seemed like enemies?” “Yes—there was none.”

“No, not just you—psychologically speaking, that is, when considered academically, it’s a feeling that must inevitably arise in all crossing guards. Yet you still claim it didn’t occur?” “That’s not the case—there was some of that.” “That night, when you stopped the drunken man, you knew there was no one around to witness it, didn’t you?”

“No, I was not aware of that.” “Didn’t you answer earlier that you knew?” “No. “I would not say such a thing! “I would never say such a thing.” “Then why do you want to insist so emphatically that you didn’t know?” The defendant let slip a smile, then bit his lower lip and looked down. “Do you believe all your actions that night were completely justified?” “Yes.”

“Then whether you say you didn’t know or say you did know, shouldn’t it make no difference to you at all?”

“Yes, that is correct.” “That night, when you stopped the drunken man, didn’t you see him as an enemy?” “No, I never had any such feeling.” “Have you ever read any socialist writings before?”

“No.” “Do you recall anyone telling you about what’s written in such books?” “No, I have not.” “Didn’t you co-sign when the workers demanded shorter hours from the Railway Bureau?” “Yes.” “Then why did you co-sign such a socialist petition?” “It couldn’t be helped. I didn’t know whether doing such a thing was what socialism entailed. I simply joined because I was told to enter—that’s all.”

“What do you always think of the wealthy?” “I don’t think anything of them.” “Don’t you want to become wealthy?” “If Your Honor says to make it so, then it shall be done.” “Who was it that urged you to put your name to the petition? There must have been someone.” “There was no one. When the paper came around and I looked at it, my name was properly written there. On it was written that those in favor should put their seal above their name, so I simply put my seal there—that’s all.”

“Who brought that paper?” “That would be the man named Hattori Kanji who was listed before my name.” “What was that man’s occupation?”

“He is also a crossing guard.” “However, that man is of Class B.”

“Class B, you say?” “He only stands guard during the daytime.” “So you’re classified as Class A?” “Yes.”

Through this rather lengthy interrogation, the Judge had only imparted to the Defendant his central suspicion—whether he had crushed the libertine under the train wheels out of sexual jealousy or class-based resentment—and when he realized that all he had gained was a slight reinforcement of that very suspicion, his mind grew desperate to wrest a confession from the Defendant with utmost haste. He understood that to achieve this end, he must first deliver a psychological jolt to the defendant's consciousness—otherwise his efforts would be in vain.

“You blocking off the road early—that must be because you saw everyone in society as enemies.” “No, that isn’t so.” “You only started thinking of that road as your own after becoming single.” “No, that isn’t so.” “That’s been since I first began my duties.”

“Do not tell lies.” “Yes, I have thought that way from the very beginning.” “When you see those who frequent the pleasure quarter late at night, you must view them as enemies, don’t you?” “Your Honor, please don’t jest like that. “I would certainly never entertain such thoughts.”

“Why does that trouble you?” “Your Honor, please don’t say such things.” “Is this inconvenient for you?” “It’s not that it’s inconvenient, but I have never entertained such thoughts.” “Was it only when it suited your own convenience that you kept saying ‘Yes, sir’?”

The Defendant parted his lips as if to say something but remained silent. Only his nostrils kept twitching. Then his face began taking on a slight bluish pallor except around the rims of his eyes. "When you saw that drunken man as a wealthy person, you must have thought of him as an enemy." "Yes." "On the night of the incident, you must have timed the train's arrival and pushed that drunken man." "Yes."

The Defendant continued to look out the window arrogantly. “That must be it.” The Defendant remained silent. “Well?” “Do with me as you will,” the Defendant declared forcefully. As the Judge looked at the Defendant’s angry face, he reasoned that if the man’s actions on the night of the incident had truly aligned with his suspicions, it would be impossible for him to display such open rage now—and with this thought, the doubts he had harbored until then began to dissolve slightly. However, he could not help but think that even the Defendant’s anger had arisen from the obstinate logic he himself had forced upon him. Upon reflection, even the Defendant’s anger no longer seemed like the deep-rooted fury of one falsely accused, and ultimately, the Judge found his former suspicions congealing and clinging to him once more. However, if he were to continue the interrogation further, he had to first dispel the defendant’s resentment. The Judge continued his gentle questioning with a composed smile.

“You know that the victim had a wife, don’t you?”

The Defendant continued looking out the window and did not answer.

“He must have had children too—do you know that?”

The Defendant remained silent as before.

“Do you truly know nothing at all?” “What have you to say?”

“I know,” the Defendant declared forcefully, his voice laced with hostility.

“I see, you knew.” “Don’t you think that if you hadn’t held back that drunken man then—if you’d just let him pass—that man could have been spared?”

The Defendant remained silent. “If you had always maintained a kind heart toward passersby, I believe even then you wouldn’t have deliberately used your chain barrier to stop him but would have let him through.” “Of course, the dead man was also at fault.” “But even you didn’t do anything good at all.” “Even if you were completely justified, weren’t you stationed at that railroad crossing precisely to prevent such deaths from occurring?” “If you hadn’t been by that man’s side, that would be one thing—but in fact, you were right there beside him, you know.” “Not only that—if you hadn’t been there at that time, that man might actually have been saved.” “Moreover, it is precisely because you were there that that man died.” “Have you ever considered what that man’s wife must think of you?”

The Defendant’s eyes, which had turned toward the Judge, suddenly began to gleam. “You must have been happy when you had a wife.”

“Yes,” the Defendant said quietly. “Don’t you think you killed a respectable man with a wife and children?” “You said there’s nothing enjoyable in your life—and I can certainly understand that.” “But that man still had so much left to enjoy.” “The world was still full of enjoyment for him.” “That’s what you’d think, wouldn’t you?”

The Defendant remained silent and looked down. “If that man died, do you realize how much trouble his wife and children would be in?” “You’re fine.” “Even if you must live alone in loneliness, there’s nothing to be done about that.” “But though they have no reason to live in loneliness, that man’s wife and children who remain must spend their entire lives in loneliness.” “Even if you believe what you did was justified, the dead man’s wife and children will surely resent you forever.” “Undoubtedly, they believe it was you who killed him.” “No matter how much you insist you were justified, they won’t think that way.” “After all, it was you who killed him—no one else.”

The Judge watched as the Defendant’s head drooped lower. This is it! he thought. He felt triumphant. You pushed that man, didn’t you? he wanted to say. But at that moment, the Defendant suddenly raised his head and glared at the Judge with an angry expression. Then, as if struck by sudden stomach pain, his face contorted, and tears began to stream down his cheeks. “I killed him. Yes, I killed him.”

In a voice that seemed to catch on something, the Defendant spoke those words. The Judge began to feel an inexplicable agitation.

“Do you still want to be a crossing guard?” the Judge asked, posing a question that held no sincerity whatsoever.

The Defendant lowered himself into the chair and, with his head still buried, did not answer.

When the Judge thought about how easily he had lured in the Defendant, he suddenly felt his triumphant feelings begin to fade. It wasn’t just that. He had even lost again the evidence for the suspicion he thought he had finally grasped, just as before. The reason was that he found his own methods so ingenious that he almost wanted to praise himself. Indeed, even the Judge himself—who could ascertain it was clearly no premeditated murder—were he placed in the Defendant’s position, would anyone not have been driven by that skillful Judge’s words into the same sorrowful words and actions as the Defendant? When he thought of this, the Judge’s suspicions—hindered by his own eloquence—plunged back entirely into a haze of uncertainty. However, even so, he still could not abandon his suspicions. Thereupon, he realized that to extract the most credible confession from the Defendant, he would have to reverse course and retract the sorrow he had cast upon him once again.

“You said earlier that you’d seen that drunken man before, didn’t you?”

The Defendant did not answer. “Were you quite familiar with him?” The Defendant said “Yes” as though gulping down something. “Was that man always dead drunk, I wonder?” “Yes.” “When you had a wife, did you ever go to the pleasure district?” “No,” the Defendant said in a nasal voice, then looked at the Judge with reddened eyes.

“Hmm, did you know that drunken man’s wife was in trouble? That wife was in trouble. It’s said she was in distress because her husband went out carousing every night and left the house empty. And you—didn’t you know that man and his wife were always fighting?” “Yes,” said the Defendant, wiping his nose, but he immediately buried his head again.

“It seems he was being pressured by his wife for a divorce.” “To tell the truth, such libertines are no real loss even if they die, but I merely made you grieve as required for my investigation.” “You don’t need to grieve so much.” “You probably couldn’t tell the train was approaching, I suppose.”

The Defendant remained silent. “You were trying to stop that man from leaving until the very end, weren’t you?”

Again, the Defendant did not answer. He let out a deep sigh and grimaced.

“Isn’t that the crucial point? Well? That’s how it was, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

When the Defendant answered in that low voice, tears once more streamed down his cheeks.

To the Judge who had been observing how the Defendant's attitude changed through his own words, the Defendant's appearance still seemed profoundly sorrowful. Yet he could no longer clearly determine whether this sorrow stemmed from residual grief he himself had induced or from the Defendant's consciousness of some hidden deed. When at last the Judge found himself unable to devise any means of confirming his suspicions, he had no choice but to bring that day's interrogation to a close.

That night, when the Judge got into bed, he once again turned over the day's interrogation in his mind. ――Was it in fact the Defendant who pushed the drunken man, or was the man’s death an accidental one as the Defendant claimed?――Even so, why had the Defendant been so acutely sensitive to words that endangered him? And yet why had he come forward so blatantly with preemptive moves? When he thought of how the Defendant had skillfully shifted between these two contradictory attitudes in response to the interrogation, the Judge’s suspicions began to deepen once more. Yet precisely because this was a situation where one party sought not to be overcome while the other had to strive to overcome, once he perceived this, the Defendant's single-minded determination to protect himself could not have been anything but legitimate. In the end, the Judge had gained nothing but to continue being lost in the uncertainties of daylight. However, even so—since he had to render a verdict at least once—he could not simply abandon matters as they stood. This tormented the Judge. But having come this far, he realized that as a judge, the most correct method of rendering a verdict was instead to turn his interrogation inward upon his own psychology. Why had he begun to harbor his own doubts as doubts? Why had he strived to deepen those doubts as doubts? Why had he become convinced that his suspicions ought to be valid? As he began to think this way, he discovered that he himself had grown intensely suspicious in recent years. Of course, habits cultivated through years of judicial life had played a role in this, but it was not solely due to that—the true causes lay in his profound confidence in his own insight and the neurasthenia that further fueled it. Beyond this, there was still one more major cause. This was because when he had previously attempted to examine the points of contact between ideology and crime that most significantly influenced the current trends of public sentiment, and selected books on socialist thought, the volume that came into his hands was one titled Marx’s Thought and Critical Biography. When he saw this, he came to understand that throughout the world, these two classes were locked in perpetual conflict: the collective forces of the propertyless class seeking to eradicate the capitalist class at present, and the collective forces of the capitalist class countering them by attempting to crush the power of the proletariat. From that time onward, the emotions of the Judge—who possessed a family fortune exceeding 100,000 yen—developed antipathy, fear, and hostility toward all social ideologies belonging to Marx’s lineage, precisely as his intellect increasingly affirmed the imposing correctness of Marx’s theory. His emotions shook violently with acute fear every time various social movements erupted with increasing frequency. He had never before considered how much influence this had exerted upon his interrogations and verdicts—interrogations and verdicts that should have been correct.

However, now the Judge’s reason had turned in that direction. When he learned that the Defendant had been involved in the incident where temporary employees pressured the Railway Bureau to reduce working hours, he realized that his habitual fear-driven urge to defend against social movements had naturally positioned the Defendant as an adversary from the very beginning of the interrogation. Of course, he understood that as part of his judicial duty, he had to direct suspicion toward the Defendant—yet even he could not believe his suspicions had been deepened solely for that reason. Upon realizing this, it began to seem no particular mystery that the poorer the Defendant was and the more intense his labor became—the more he was drawn by others into appeals for reduced working hours in proportion to his lack of education—the more his passion for that movement emerged. Moreover, his previous inference—that the more ignorant the Defendant was, the more he must have harbored resentment toward the wealthy libertine—though seemingly valid in logic, now struck him as inversely true: unless the libertine’s wealth directly impacted him, the Defendant’s very ignorance would render him less capable of sustaining such resentment, and the more he considered this, the more plausible it became. Of course, given that the Defendant and the drunken man had clashed, it was an undeniable fact that there had been some resentment between them. Yet even that—as he began to perceive that the Defendant’s resentment differed from his own hostility toward him, likely being nothing more than commonplace envy of a free-spirited libertine—the suspicion that had doggedly clung to him until now, the notion that this resentment was of a kind to deliberately shove the drunken man to his death, became something he could no longer believe. Then, the Judge’s own fear—which had arbitrarily deemed the Defendant a harborer of dangerous ideology and arbitrarily cast him as an enemy—suddenly struck him as foolishly shameful. Moreover, the Judge recalled the Defendant’s utterly sorrowful expression at that moment when he had sadness thrust upon him for his own sake. This had the power to make the Judge’s feelings, completely detached from his official authority, enter into the Defendant’s lonely state of mind. No matter how he considered it, it could not have been anything but lonely. A man fatefully deprived of all life's joys, a man unable to break through that destiny—he understood that being perpetually stationed at the entrance to the pleasure district's focal point of merriment, forced to keep watching those revelries while endlessly warning entrants of danger, constituted one of the most agonizing existences imaginable. However, the Judge contemplated how he himself—due to a single shred of impure fear—had been on the verge of condemning that pitiful man, who should have been acquitted, to a severe crime. He felt his own guilt and shuddered.

"I'll declare him innocent." "Innocent."

Once he had made this decision alone, he suddenly felt a refreshing sensation as if flipping his palm.

“This isn’t my fault! It’s Marx’s fault!”

He suddenly laughed out loud.

"No, there's nothing to—to care about. What physical evidence exists anyway? The crossing guard before the libertine!"

Now, the Judge too was in a completely clear and refreshed state of mind. And he felt that the fear which had long been intimidating him had now mysteriously flown away.

After a while, he was sleeping peacefully. As if he were a criminal whom Marx had declared innocent.