Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Yumeno Kyūsaku “Welcome.” “My, what a rare rain we’re having... Once it starts pouring like this, there’s no beating it.” “Thank you for your continued patronage... Now then... Do have a seat.” “Do have a smoke… Heh heh.” “You didn’t bring an umbrella.” “Heh heh, please make yourself comfortable... It’ll brighten up soon enough.” “To think we’ve cooled off this much only to get an evening shower with thunder—what peculiar weather we’re having.” “Honestly... Having to turn on the electric lights just to see anything when it’s barely five o’clock... makes it feel like phantoms might start appearing in the shop... Though truth be told, a used bookstore’s no good if it’s too bright anyway.” “If a shop lets the western sun come flooding in all at once like that, why, every last customer would peel right out of their seats, you see.” “Heh heh heh…”

“If you’ll pardon my asking, sir—you’re from Tokyo originally… Heh heh.” “Transferred here from a Tokyo university, weren’t you?” “Workin’ in the XX Department... Makes sense.” “Not too busy in this fine weather... Heh heh.” “Much obliged.” “If you were a practicin’ physician now—what a loss that’d be! Universities sure are blessèd places.” “Truth told—I’m Tokyo-born myself.” “Came squallin’ into this world in some Ryūkanbashi alley—nothin’ wider than a cat’s forehead. Trash born trash bred, heh heh heh.” “Tried playin’ lawyer when young—Kanda’s Oriental Law School an’ all them Six Codes... But lazybones blood runs thick.” “Read novels lazin’ about—chased skirts more’n statutes—no discipline at all.” “Parents croaked—relatives washed their hands clean.” “No backbone for hard study neither.” “Like that Hōkaibushi tune says—what’s a man to do? Moon guitar on me back—Shanghai dreams! Ended up lightin’ acetylene lamps on Mitsudai-chō bank steps—spread out them detective novels an’ hand-me-down textbooks... Got hooked on displayin’ ’em—poof! Used bookseller born.” “Heh heh heh.” “Wife popped out—brats followed—mess o’ life later—lookit this bald pate! No turnin’ back now.” “Well—fits a lazybones like me right enough.” “No complaints here.”

“Heh heh.” “Well now, before this XX-kundari came into my hands, I went through no small amount of hardship, don’t it?” “Along the way I got sick of the used book trade—tried my hand at being a rakugo performer through imitation, even became a banquet entertainer—but turns out sticking to the trade I started with suits me best. When folks lose their way, it’s nothing but loss, don’t it?” “Once I got into the rhythm of things bit by bit, why, all sorts of amusing little surprises started cropping up now and then, don’t it?” “Well... It’s just humble tea, but how about a cup... Please make yourself at ease...”

“When it pours like this, customers don’t come around at all, do they? Whenever you come by—if it’s a used bookstore where even one customer’s standing about—why, it’s safe enough to step right in. So when not a single soul comes by, I turn myself into a decoy and shuffle down to tidy up the shelves and such... That there’s the trick of the trade, don’t it? In other words, that lone person standing there becomes the shop’s lure... Then when passersby happen to peek inside and spot someone planted before the shelves reading or whatnot—why, they get hooked right in and come drifting through the door, don’t it? What you’d call crowd psychology... Then after that comes another drifting soul... and so it goes... Oh now, not at all... It’s not as if I’m serving you tea just to make you my decoy, Professor.” He laughed. “When it’s coming down this hard—don’t matter how many lures you set—they won’t do a lick of good.” Another chuckle escaped him. “My apologies. Please don’t mind me—do take your time...”

“Heh heh.”

“There’s quite an interesting story about this.” “Just the other day... A high school student came by to sell Goethe’s poetry collection.” “I took about ten volumes off his hands for three yen—reference books and such—but since Goethe’s collection looked particularly old among them, wouldn’t you know it? When I inspected it properly later...” “Turned out to be a first edition published in Germany in 1780—and what’s more, when I scrutinized that owner’s signature scrawled on the endpaper, no matter how I looked at it, it read ‘Schiller.’” “So I took it over to Dean Nakae’s residence—he collects old books here in the Faculty of Law and Literature—and guess what?” “He bought it for seventy yen.” “Now, they say back when that Goethe collection first surfaced in 1780—summer or autumn it was—while Poet-Saint Schiller was buying and reading that first edition...”

“I won’t read this damn worthless poetry collection anymore!” He slammed it onto the ground. Then, as he picked it up again and continued reading further, this time he prostrated himself repeatedly while shedding tears, “Lord Goethe. “You are the god of poetry.” “I am but a wretched creature unworthy even to lick the mud from your sacred feet.” ...muttering such things and pressed the poetry collection against his forehead—that’s the story that’s been passed down. That must be this very book. If a German were to have it, they wouldn’t let go of it even for 100,000 marks—though Dean Nakae later explained that part to me. “Dean Nakae’s quite the trickster, isn’t he… Ha ha ha.” “Of course, even I had a sense that this book wasn’t worth just the train fare to Tokyo… or so I’d guessed.” “Even if you thirst for greed, there’s no helping it.”

“Heh heh.” “Next time somethin’ like that turns up, I’ll bring it straight to your place first thing, Professor.” “At the university’s ○○ Department... Heh.” “Associate Professor’s office... Heh heh.” “I humbly ask for your continued favor.”

“Heh heh.” “Dean Nakae from the Faculty of Law and Literature?” “He often visits my shop.” “They say searching for old books is his greatest pleasure.” “Quite the splendid hobby... Used bookstore owners are mostly blind by nature—but I’m surprisingly perceptive—so he says he enjoys chatting with me... Heh heh.” “Forgive my self-praise.” “I remain ever grateful for your guidance.” “As you see here—since students are my main customers—we put all Western-language books on one shelf labeled ‘ORIGINAL BOOK’... But just recently I carelessly—”

CHOHMEY KAMO'S HOJOKY

“So I took that thing labeled ‘CHOHMEY KAMO’S HOJOKY’—not really understanding what it was—flipped through it haphazardly, slapped on a big label reading ‘Original Book,’ and priced it at two yen．Then Dean Nakae came along，yanked it straight out of the shelf，shoved it right under my nose，and gave me an earful about it．”

“You need to get your act together—this won’t do!” He was absolutely furious... Well, when I actually read it properly, turns out it was an English translation of Kamo no Chōmei’s Hōjōki. “Ha ha ha!” “Now I can’t tell which one’s supposed to be the original book!” “Completely flabbergasted, I was.” “He went on about it being the oldest English translation of Hōjōki and went ahead and bought it for twenty yen.” “Like he was letting me make up for that Goethe poetry collection business.” “Heh heh heh heh…”

“Absolutely, sir. If he’d bought it for two yen as it was, I wouldn’t have complained one bit. If all my customers were proper folks like Dean Nakae, there’d be no hardship—but ill-mannered ones come aplenty, you see. Take this… Reading a whole book standing up—such boldness happens often here—and what’s worse, I’m staggered by how quick they read through ’em. They’ll plop right down on the store’s books, littering cigarette butts under their feet while reading a whole volume through, then bring it over to me and—”

“Hey, you! Won’t you knock even one yen off this book? It’s not even that interesting of a book.” It was enough to make you blush with shame. “Not that it’s any of my business, but… Those literature students come around now and then before exams—haul down the big Webster’s dictionary or Encyclopædia Britannica from that shelf up there, look up whatever characters they need, then just leave them lying about. I don’t mind that so much. Must be too much trouble to jot things down in their notebooks, I suppose. They quietly tear out that one page and take it away—downright outrageous. Turns out they don’t even have a proper moral education subject at the university… Leaves you speechless, it does.”

“There’s even worse! They just up and walk off with entire books.” “In other words, shoplifting, right?” “Moreover, the sheer ingenuity of their shoplifting methods—complete with actual tricks—leaves me downright impressed, I tell ya.” They’d grab one or two dull books—completely unwrapped—and saunter in from the street with all the airs of some leisure-class student or intellectual, their expressions perfectly matching that carefree demeanor. “They’ve already zeroed in on their target book from the start, but they’d never be daft enough to head straight for it.” “That’s their clever trick, see—keepin’ up that carefree drifter act while glancing up and down the shelves here and there, inching closer to their mark as natural as you please.” “Then they’d put on this whole show of reluctant compliance—grudgingly slip the book outta its packaging and pretend to be engrossed in readin’ it.” “Well, since I’m no department store dick—not suspectin’ a thing from the get-go—the moment I let my guard down, they’re already makin’ their move.” “They’d put on a bored look like they’re returnin’ it to the shelf… Think that’s all there is to it? Couldn’t be further from the truth!” “What looks like ’em returnin’ it is just the empty cardboard sleeve… Or they’d stuff some worthless books they brought along into the gap, tuckin’ the real prize right under their arm—Tch.” “Then they’d swagger out all casual-like, blowin’ perfect smoke rings with their cigarettes like ‘Ain’t a single decent book in this dump…’ Now that takes some real brass ones!” “The things they come up with, I tell ya.”

“Well… Some might be spur-of-the-moment impulses, but others could’ve been stewing for ages,” he continued, the shop’s single bulb casting shadows across his wry smile. “After all, they’re students from schools without moral education—can’t let your guard down around such riffraff for a second.” His Kansai accent thickened with mock despair. “Having these tricks hurled at me left and right—it’s downright intolerable, I tell ya.” The shopkeeper leaned closer, tobacco-stained fingers tapping the counter. “And it’s not just petty students pulling those stunts.” A chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. “Why, even proper gentlemen—the very pillars of moral education drawing fat salaries—occasionally try their hand at these games. Heh heh.” He gestured toward the professor’s tailored suit with a grimy nail. “University lecturers pop by too now and then.” “Our regulars from the other side of the counter aren’t slouches either,” he added, eyes glinting. “Their methods? Downright elegant.” Another raspy laugh escaped him. “Surely you’re not teaching these techniques in class instead of ethics, eh?” The shopkeeper’s gaze lingered on the professor’s trembling hands. “Your lot’s got finesse that puts the students to shame.” He spread his palms in theatrical resignation. “With your fine airs about you, I let my guard down thinking ‘Surely not...’”

“However, such antics do seem to be limited to true bibliophiles, wouldn’t you say? They think it’s some rare book that must be pricey, can’t resist wanting it… plus the clerk here looks like a fool… so even your upstanding types get hooked—sauntering in all casual-like, till it becomes a downright addiction. Gets more entertainin’ by the day.” “Why, their consciences get utterly worn away at that point—they become so bold and cunning it’s beyond human capability! A humble bookseller like myself can hardly keep up with such opponents.” “But it’s a blessing… After being tricked so many times and gettin’ used to it, I can usually tell.” “They say that person’s got a fishy air about ’em.” “Since it’s what my apprentice says, once I start paying attention, I end up figurin’ out their whole method and everythin’.” “In the end, just seeing how they slink in through the entrance gives me a rough idea already.” “…Things like ‘Oh, don’t deign to do such things…’ or ‘I shan’t do it…’ and whatnot.” “Heh heh.”

"What’s amusing is that there are people who, after taking home a shoplifted book and reading it through, sneak back in to return it. As you well know, when it comes to novels these days—unlike those written by the great authors of old—there seem to be many that once you’ve read them, you’ve no desire to read them again. Or when they take it home and read it, it seems it wasn’t a particularly remarkable or rare book after all. So whether they thought it wasn’t something worth stealing against their conscience… and came to return it… or whether from the start they meant to just ‘borrow’ it for a bit—reading it carefully so the contents wouldn’t diminish—and then give it back… Well, that’s something we here can’t quite figure out at all. Whether they’ve got a conscience or not, whether they’re being gentlemanly or showing world-class thieving instincts… It’s like riding the train without paying to run an errand and coming back pretending you never boarded—people do have such complicated states of mind, don’t they?"

“Well, well—there are quite a few that never come back at all.” “I’m well aware of that look you’re giving me.” “That’s what they call the perks of the trade—keeping quiet and playing dumb.” “When you consider what I paid for ’em originally, it’s no great loss.” “The real nuisance is havin’ to constantly check whether them cases still got their contents or not—downright bothersome, I tell ya.” “As I recall that one and this one who’d been standin’ before books with altered or missin’ pages… why, I gradually came to understand their true character through such recollections. Downright uncanny… Just t’other day there was one like that.” “This was an utterly extraordinary book—a real marvel, but…”

“I do believe it was a book brought in during summer vacation by a student from ×× Medical College.” “He was from ×× in ××, and claimed it was a Bible passed down through generations in his family.” “I received it for three yen per volume, but as usual—while minding the store part-time here—when I sat down and examined it closely, I was astonished.” “At first glance, it looks like printed type, but it’s actually a hand-copied manuscript made in England in 1626.” “The paper was remarkable too, you know.” “It was densely written on this thick, almost sticky paper—like Japanese 100-yen bills—and even had illustrations with black lines and blue-and-red paint crammed in there. Just that alone makes it one hell of a rare book, I tell ya.”

However, if that were all there was to it, even I wouldn’t be particularly surprised. “If you’re willing to pay, even here in mainland Japan you can encounter some fairly remarkable items—but what really shocked me was the text of that Bible, I tell ya.” “Could that be what you’d call a Devil’s Bible…? When I realized this might be Schrekker’s BOOK OF DEVIL PRAYER—the Heretical Prayer Book rumored to have only one copy in the entire world—I nearly fainted, my teeth clattering like mad in broad daylight despite it being midsummer, I tell ya.”

“Well… Seems you haven’t heard about such books, Professor.”

“Well…” “Is that so?” “I figured the author’s name was probably pronounced Dukko Schrekker, but…” “It had some tricky spelling… and they say it’s from about a hundred years back.” “When I was in Tokyo, I’d caught wind of some idle talk among colleagues—about whether it was the second or third son of that British Rothschild billionaire who’d offered a £100,000 reward to track it down.” “Never dreamed I’d actually see the real article with my own eyes.”

“Well…” “The cover was a rather large black leather binding… with ‘HOLY BIBLE’ stamped in gold lettering. Though whether it was cow or horsehide I couldn’t tell, it was stuffed into a sturdy raw leather case.” “Now, seeing how there’s faint remnants of vermilion ink reading ‘MICHAEL SHIRO’ right at the center of that case’s inner lining, along with these fine black-ink combined characters like some sorta emblem—well, my hunch tells me this was probably brought over to Japan around the Amakusa Rebellion times by some fella callin’ himself Mikael Shiro, who kept it hidden away… Heh heh.” “Now if that Shiro were Amakusa Shiro, that’d be even more troublesome, though.”

“Heh heh—course that’s right through and through! That student must’ve come to sell it thinkin’ it was just some ordinary Bible, none the wiser. See, nobody bothers readin’ Bibles ’less they’re pious types—and them ancestors passin’ it down couldn’t exactly warn their kin ’bout what kinda book it was neither. Ended up stashed away in some storehouse corner for ages, I reckon. Then that student goes diggin’ it out… ‘What’s this old thing? Might as well sell it off!’ Probably asked some granny ‘bout where to unload it before landin’ at my doorstep, eh? Bibles ain’t exactly hot with students these days—if he’d skimmed even a line of that cursed text, he’d never have dragged it here! Bet he’s turned full devil by now—dropped outta school, runnin’ with some pink gang or other, locked up good and proper. Heh heh… Got his name and address jotted down neat-like—been itch-in’ to swing by that ×× place these past few days. Bound to be more juicy finds buried there!” “Heh heh.”

“The opening text was all in these tiny intricate arabesque-patterned floral letters, and from how the chapters were divided to the inner layout—it was exactly like a genuine Bible through and through. Even the first four or five lines of Genesis matched the real Bible’s scripture word for word, so anyone would get taken in at first. But then, right after those lines, those ‘holy’ phrases shifted without a single break into utterly terrifying words—no warning at all, I tell ya.” “In other words, should I call it… a Devil’s Bible?” “Or perhaps… a Heretical Prayer Book?” “That Schrekker fellow—the British monk who created it—filled its pages with propaganda for spreading his own demonic faith worldwide, you see.” “It was in old-fashioned English, so I reckon it was a bit tough to read.” “I even tried my hand at presumptuously translating a bit of it, and well—it ended up something like this.”

"I became a saint and succeeded to my father's work; while studying theology I grew to doubt the Bible's contents. Upon turning to pharmaceutical chemistry research, I realized all creation is but matter's collective drift. I came to understand that what men call the human spirit too is merely chemical interactions of elements—thereby recognizing religions and faiths as profoundly cowardly deceptions from their very inception: cunning intellectuals' fraudulent means of extracting wealth from fools. Thus I arrived unshakably at believing earth's sole truth lies in what we term devil spirit—a spirit taking as its essence science's spirit, devoid of blood, tears, conscience or faith. This heart born within me is not the so-called 'heart of God' that parents, siblings, or Roman Popes might conveniently fashion for their own ends. Divine punishment in life exists not; hell after death exists not. What remains to fear? What need for hesitation?"

All successive Roman Popes and other rulers are practitioners who extol this demonic path. The privileges of the upper class that all people yearn for are none other than privileges pertaining to this demonic path. The core of what humanity prays for in their daily lives is nothing but the satisfaction of this heretical spirit. The strong deceive the weak using the Bible, and do not hesitate to wield the demonic power taught by science as they please. People of the world: All people, discard the false Bible and embrace this true Heretical Prayer Book. I am the Christ of the demonic path. Ye weak. Ye poor. "Ye sorrowful—all follow me."

“In such a fervent tone, phrases urging all manner of evil deeds upon humanity in general are written out in full, I tell you. As I read on, I came to feel like I was tightening a noose around my own neck, I tell you. There are many heartless villains in the West. I’d heard that only Westerners could manage things like extracting gallbladders from the living, corpse manipulation, slave trading, and murder-for-hire—and I must say, it’s absolutely true, I tell ya.”

“That Christian monk was probably mentally deranged or something. With that intent—intent on filling the whole world with villains—he seems to’ve written feverishly, goin’ on to explain in meticulous detail how this world’s one solid mass of ‘evil’… how God Himself amounts to nothin’ more than a lackey who showed up to help the devil.” “God exists solely for the weak, the weak toil solely for the strong, and the strong exist solely for the devil.”

"In the beginning of the world, there was matter." "There is nothing but matter." "Matter exists alongside desire." "Desire, in turn, exists alongside the devil." "Desire and matter are the devil’s incarnations." "Therefore, those most faithful to matter and desire become the strong and devils, thriving thereby; while those who most despise matter and desire become the weak and gods, perishing thereby." "Therefore, those who ignore God and conscience, and worship gold and carnal desires are the strong upon this earth." "rulers."

"The strong, the rulers are the alchemists of the earth." "Whosoever touches their hands becomes gold, and those unable to be made gold turn entirely to ash."

“Those who create gold are the devils of the earth.” “Those of the opposite sex they touch all become slaves to carnal desire, and those of the opposite sex unable to become such slaves all turn into bloody mud.” That’s the sort of thing it says.

“So in this Devil Prayer Book, the Old Testament portion gets framed as this… developmental chronicle of ‘human wickedness,’ if you catch my drift.” “See, when Adam an’ Eve were too busy worshippin’ God an’ lookin’ down on carnal desires, they couldn’t pop out a single kid.” “But once that snake—symbolizin’ stubborn lust—got its hooks in ’em, they lost their faith, got booted from Eden’s garden, then suddenly got all shy ’bout bein’ buck naked… Well whaddaya know? Kids started poppin’ up left an’ right, spreadin’ across the earth like wildfire. So bottom line—anythin’ thrivin’ down here ain’t Jehovah’s will nohow.” “With that kinda logic—‘Gotta be the devil’s heart!’—it just keeps layin’ out this whole sordid history of humanity’s sins, one after another.”

...The Egyptian kings of successive generations would replace their wives each night, reveling in their supreme glory as they either burned the women they grew tired of as offerings to the sun god or fed them alive to the Nile water deity's crocodiles. ……The purpose of King Darius of Persia’s wars was neither territory nor honor. It was nothing but the sexual abuse of captured women from enemy nations and the pleasure derived from massacring their men. Every time he won a war, he adorned the palace walls and corridors with tens of thousands of freshly slaughtered enemy soldiers’ corpses, and amidst them, he delighted in hearing the screams of thousands of women—beginning with enemy nations’ consorts and princesses. It was there that Darius came to perceive the world’s greatest demonic civilization.

...Alexander the Great, in his quest to annihilate the Arabs, took laborers bearing corpses of Black Death victims and had them beheaded one by one at every crossroads in the city of Mecca. This, in its extreme demonic spirit, not only led the methods of modern warfare but also possessed a greatness that far surpassed such things. Truly, he could only be called Alexander the Great.

...It is written in history that Peter the Great of Russia went to Holland to study shipbuilding techniques, but this is a blatant lie; in truth, he went to research abortion techniques and methods of manufacturing poison. Peter the Great used the magic power he had thus obtained to dominate the Russian court and amass such immense influence; moreover, that the Slavic race to which the emperor belonged unified over sixty ethnic groups to create the Great Russian Empire was solely due to the scientific knowledge of the Slavic people, who had received magical power from this very emperor.

...In such a manner, what governed the world was not God but always the devil. The beginning of all science was to deny God’s existence and liberate humanity from its conscience; simultaneously, the beginning of all chemistry was alchemy, and the beginning of all medicine was nothing but research into abortion techniques and poison.

...We must not allow ourselves to be deceived by history. If we do not constantly read history with a demonically correct eye, we may fall into outrageous errors. From time immemorial, the Jewish people have been a race that has striven to render all of humanity into lazy creatures, surreptitiously destroy them, and thereby occupy the world alone. Things such as dice, roulette wheels, playing cards, shogi, and dominoes are what the Jewish people devised for that very purpose and taught and spread throughout the world. Moreover, the final thing that these Jewish people invented for that very purpose and attempted to propagate throughout the world was none other than this Christianity—leaving one utterly speechless in disbelief.

…‘Everything in this world exists solely by God’s divine will. If you just pray to God, He’ll grant you anything you desire, so humans don’t need to work at all. If you believe in God, the blind will see, the mute will speak, and the lame will run. Look at the birds flying in the sky. Look at the foxes running on the ground. “Look—can’t you live just fine without worrying about tomorrow?”—and it was by propagating such notions that they devised this Christianity, aiming to turn everyone in the world into idlers.

…So they went and hired this old man named Johannes—Judea’s top actor back then—to have him try running this Christian street-proselytizing racket, but it just didn’t take off at all. So next up, they brought out this prime male actor from Judea named Jesus—a real looker—and teamed him with Judea’s finest actress Maria to have them perform this promotion right out on the streets. Wouldn’t you know it—this act turned into a roaring success.

(Thirty lines omitted) ...Once we’d gotten through the Old Testament passages in that vein, next came the New Testament’s vulgarity.

“…In other words, that monk Dukko speaks in place of Christ within the Bible.” “I am the devil’s savior. All of you, follow me!”—so begins that New Testament with him laying out his demonic bloodline inherited through generations like a genealogy. Then it elaborates how he, posing as a meek missionary who wouldn’t harm a fly, preached God’s path day and night while secretly worshipping the devil’s way—detailing chapter by chapter the countless heinous deeds he committed: murdering women, extorting money, all framed with grandiose solemnity. “If humans kick aside God and conscience, they can obtain any happiness whatsoever.” “The one he reveres as his teacher isn’t Jesus Christ—it’s Faust, that German sorcerer who sold his soul to the devil. Every conceivable method of scientific wrongdoing is written there alongside his own experiences, each accompanied by a suitably demonic sermon.”

(Forty-seven lines omitted)

“Then when you get to the very end of the Psalms, it’s all extreme love songs, see? Not a single decent one either—every last one’s praising twisted love, devilish love, that sorta thing. Even left me speechless, this book did… heh…”

“Wh... What’s this… Are you asking where that book is… heh-heh-heh.” “Now that’s a hoot, you see.”

“As I keep saying, that Bible’s lettering looks just like old woodblock print at first glance, you see. Keeping it stored away’d be useless, but then again, I couldn’t just waltz off and recommend it to some shady character either. Stuck as I was, I plopped it in an old leather box case and left it in that shelf corner over there. Figured I could gauge customers’ reactions—charge a thousand yen if they bit, wouldn’t bring too much divine retribution… ’sides, even a regular Bible’s worth that much, you see.”

However, this was about three months ago. "I was shocked! When had someone managed it? The contents of that Bible had been completely removed—I discovered only the box left in that shelf’s corner over there." "That’s the darkest spot in the whole store, you see—where I quietly gather and keep only the books I consider rare." "The folks who come over there and stand stock-still—their type’s usually plain enough to tell, you see." "As for who took it… I haven’t the foggiest notion…."

“Oh!... What’s happened to your complexion, Professor? Are you feeling unwell… Hmm?” “Hmm?… This three hundred yen… this month’s entire salary… you’re giving it to me… Hmm?… As a deposit for that Bible… you’re saying it’s a thousand-yen down payment… Well now, this is most humbling.” “That book was taken by the Professor… Hmm.” “That’s… hmm, hmm… quite beyond my ken… What are you saying….”

“Hmm… Since this spring, that young pianist from a music school who comes to teach your wife piano happened upon that book by chance, showed great interest in it, and borrowed it.” “Until that moment, you too had thought it an ordinary Bible and lent it out without a second thought.” “Hmm… D-do… please compose yourself… compose yourself… quietly now… quietly… take your time and speak… Ah… I see.” “Hmm… Hmm…”

Then, about a week later, your wife had a miscarriage... three months into the pregnancy... I see. The doctor's diagnosis stated that the two of you having gone for a drive to XX beforehand had been ill-advised... I see... "That national highway has really deteriorated lately, hasn't it?" "It can't be helped." "The number of cars has increased recklessly, hasn't it?" "The prefectural civil engineering budget hasn't changed... yet they keep multiplying." "Hmm...." "Just your one son, who had been raised on nothing but milk, passed away suddenly four or five days ago." "The diagnosis was food poisoning, but you say it's suspicious... Hmm..." "Why do you find it suspicious... Hmm?" "That piano teacher who borrowed that book must be using the poison inside it." "Lately, even your stomach hasn't been well." "The stomach aches dully." "×××××, it might be ×××." "Hmm." "In other words, you've been suspecting that piano teacher all along, haven't you?" "I see." "That piano teacher—an affectedly artistic yet bland-faced youth... Your current wife is your second, who won first prize in Osaka News' beauty contest... Ah—"

“Whoa—— Professor!” “Waitwaitwaitwait just a moment.” “Wait, wait!” “No, I won’t let go.” “Wait a moment.” “Changing your complexion like that—where are you off to… Wh... What’s this….” “You intend to file a complaint against that piano teacher.” “I’ll retrieve that book and find the poison used—w-wait… please wait!” “Th… That’s preposterous!” “Now, do listen.” “Calm down… In any case, sit here once more.” “Please hear my story.” “I’ve grasped the full circumstances.” “Since I know the incident’s truth perfectly, I’ll explain everything without omission.” “Don’t rush.” “Haste makes waste… Ah, you startled me…”

“That’s preposterous, Professor—that….” “If you proceed with such a thing, Professor—the matter of how you obtained that book will surely come under police scrutiny.” “And if I were summoned by the police at that point and testified truthfully, what do you suppose would become of your position, Professor?”

“Ha ha ha.” “There—look at that.”

“Now now—do have a seat here once more.” “Please have a sip of this tea while it’s still hot.” “I’ll lay all my cards on the table and tell you everything.” “To get to the root of it—it’s all my doing.”

“Th... There’s no need for you to be so startled.” “Here… I offer my sincerest apologies in this manner.” “It is entirely my fault.” “Heh heh…” “I most humbly beg your pardon like this.” “I beseech your forgiveness, please….”

“Why hide anything now… Everything I’ve told you up to this point has been pure fabrication.” “Complete nonsense.” “A story without root or branch—utter fiction, see?” “Ha ha ha.” “Did it shock you?” “Ha ha ha…” “That book’s just an ordinary Bible after all.” “Of course, being a 1680 British manuscript makes it quite rare—no doubt about that.” “Worth maybe three hundred ryo at most—certainly not something you’d appraise at a thousand.” “Read it yourself—you’ll see.” “From first page to last, it’s standard Bible text through and through. Seeing how every character’s flawlessly written, must’ve been copied by some monk so devout he kowtowed thrice and bowed nine times while transcribing, eh?” “Still—it’s a rare piece that seldom surfaces. Do store it carefully.” “Now that I’ve taken your payment—though parting pains me—I’ll hand it over.”

"The truth was, I had heard long ago from Dean Nakae of the Literature Department that you, Professor, were a renowned book collector famous even within the university. 'This time,' he'd told me, 'a book-collecting expert has come to the ○○ Department.' 'That man had been my rival since our Tokyo days—I never could figure out how he did it, but he kept snatching up every book I set my sights on.' 'Whenever that man came around, my hobby was done for...' he'd say. He used to make such remarks often."

“So you see, actually that… Heh heh.” “When you took possession of that book, Professor, I knew full well from the start.” “Just when I was considering going to collect payment from your good wife instead—there you suddenly were today… no doubt thanks to this evening shower.” “With nothing particularly rare in my shop worth your notice—and you appearing content to wait out the rain—what with my own head growing foggy from sitting here since dawn—well—I ended up spinning some baseless nonsense to pass the time… You know how us old fools who dabbled in half-baked learning or trod the rakugo boards in our youth tend to sprout idle chatter… The more disreputable the knowledge, the quicker it spills out—heh heh… Ah well—even buried in books as I am—detective novels remain most diverting… Truly they do.” “Can’t help drifting into this queer fancy of acting out detective tales in real life… You understand…” “I’m deeply obliged for this unexpectedly generous payment.” “I must beg your forgiveness a thousandfold for spinning such utter falsehoods and troubling your peace…”

“Well…”

“It seems the rain has stopped.” “It’s gotten much brighter.” “Tomorrow should be fine weather.”

*Heh.*

“Thank you for your patience.” “Thank you for your continued patronage.” “Please do take care of your wife…”