Pathway to Japanese Literature

Lupin-style Theft

That morning, the moment Count Shishido set foot in his study, he was immediately struck by a great shock.

This was due to discovering an abnormality in Cézanne’s painting *The Card Players* hanging on his study wall.

For Count Shishido, now in reduced circumstances, this famous painting was not only his sole treasure but also his greatest comfort.
This one painting alone—no matter how high a price merchants offered to buy it for—he had always refused outright.

The canvas depicted a rundown tavern in the outskirts where two middle-aged men of modest means sat facing each other across a table, quietly continuing their card game, hands clutching their cards.
The man on the right wore a misshapen laborer’s cap, had an angular chin, and was intently staring at the cards in his hand as though it were his turn.
The man on the left wore a hat resembling a top hat but with an unusually tall crown, had a slender face, clenched a pipe in his teeth, and was likewise peering at the cards in his hand.
It was, as depicted, an unremarkable scene—but for Count Shishido, the carefree ease and blissful absorption of these two men filled him with profound envy while simultaneously serving as solace for his soul.
Thus, while he had gradually sold off nearly all the many paintings he had collected in Europe, this single piece alone he had never parted with.

This very painting—so invaluable to Count Shishido—he made both his greatest daily pleasure and first ritual by entering his study each morning immediately upon waking to gaze upon it.

However, that very morning, the moment Count Shishido entered this room and—in lieu of a morning greeting—shot a piercing sidelong glance at the two men in the famous painting, he discovered something amiss.

Ridiculous!
There’s no way this could be happening!
My eyes must be playing tricks on me.

Dismissing his initial discovery, the Count walked over to the armchair positioned across from the famous painting, executed a crisp about-face, and settled into the chair.
And he carefully examined the canvas once more.

A jolt like electricity ran from his head down his spine.

Ah—
This painting is strange.

There was an abnormality on the canvas of the famous painting *The Card Players*.
Because he had grown accustomed to viewing this famous painting daily, Count Shishido noticed immediately.
This abnormality was that the profile of the man on the right holding cards differed from before.
The ear that should have been emerging from beneath the misshapen hat was absent in the painting before him now.
In other words, the ear had ended up hidden inside the hat.

And this man’s facial expression had indeed changed.
The peaceful expression had become a harsh, nervous one.
To his astonishment, the man on the right was now clenching a pipe in his teeth.
Originally, only the left figure had been clenching a pipe between his teeth—yet now, as he examined the canvas before him—both men were doing so.

“This can’t be happening.”

Count Shishido involuntarily muttered.

Then he gazed intently at the figure on the left.
This figure’s facial features had indeed changed.
The oval face had become noticeably rounder.
And the number of cards he was holding was few.

There was more.
Beneath the chairs, where the knees of the two figures on the canvas should have been visible, that area now appeared filled in—both lacked knees entirely.
As if in compensation, there was one extra cup on the table.

“What in the world is the meaning of this?”

Count Shishido rubbed his eyes again and again and reexamined the canvas.
No matter how many times he reexamined it, it remained unchanged.

“How utterly bizarre.”

Count Shishido stood up from his chair, went to the bookshelf, then returned carrying a large art volume printed in Germany.
Seated on the chair, he turned the pages.
A full-color printed reproduction of Cézanne’s *The Card Players* appeared.
When he contrasted this with the canvas hanging on the wall, the differences became increasingly clear.
The color tone also seemed somehow different.
What in the world was the reason for this?

Suddenly, something flashed through the Count’s mind like lightning.

“Ha ha…
‘So that’s it—’”

Count Shishido stood up and approached the painting.
Then he turned the picture frame over and hurriedly examined it.
The nail that had been securing the painting in the frame had come out.

“Hmm.”
“So it’s true after all.”
“It was stolen.”
“And the thief had replaced the original painting with this forgery.”
“Insolent bastard.”
“They intend to deceive me with such a crude forgery.”
“What a hateful bastard!”

Count Shishido turned pale, then red.

They stole the famous painting and left a forged copy in its place—a masterstroke invented by Arsène Lupin to make it seem nothing had been taken. They had imitated that very technique. But this was nothing more than stale dregs—an overused trick. Worse still, the forgery they had swapped in was a glaringly obvious, clumsily executed painting.

"So then, that bastard who stole the painting isn’t much of a thief after all."

Though he’d dismissed the thief as incompetent, upon deeper consideration Count Shishido realized this loss struck him harder than having a jewel plucked from his very hand.

Having looked at that famous painting daily and relied upon it to barely sustain his existence, yet now that it had been stolen, Count Shishido thought he had lost ninety percent of his vitality for living.
Count Shishido, utterly dismayed, collapsed unconscious onto the armchair.

Detective Fukuro Enters the Scene

Eventually, Count Shishido rose from the depths of disappointment.

“Very well. Now that it had come to this, no matter what it took, I would catch that hateful thief and take back that painting.”

Count Shishido resolved to become a demon to retrieve the famous painting.

That said, knowing full well that conducting the search himself would yield little in the way of results, he promptly reported the incident to the police station.

The following day, an official came from the police station.
He heard various details about the situation, examined the substituted famous painting, and conducted a thorough inspection of the scene.
Afterward, he handed Count Shishido a theft report form, instructed him to fill in the details and submit it to the police authorities, then left.

Count Shishido had expected rigorous investigations like those Inspector Ganimard would conduct against Lupin, along with relentless interrogations of family members and servants, but nothing of the sort occurred.
The official seemed entirely unfazed by the loss of a single unremarkable oil painting.
Not only that—since another similar oil painting had been placed in the frame in place of the stolen item—it even seemed as though they thought the protagonist of this affair had not suffered any significant loss on balance.
Under these circumstances, Count Shishido himself had already realized there was almost no prospect of recovering the famous painting he was determined to reclaim with his very life.

Moreover, with each passing day, it grew ever more apparent that this was indeed the case.

Therefore, Count Shishido resolved to enlist the help of a private detective.
Through his connection with a certain individual—the second son of a count who had some familiarity in this field and had been his former classmate—he requested assistance in securing a competent detective. As a result, a detective appeared at the Count's humble abode.
He was a portly man with a hunched back, clad in a long overcoat that dragged on the ground, his florid face obscured by large black spectacles.
According to the business card he proffered, his name was printed as "Fukuro Nekoneko"—though whether this was his real name or merely a professional alias remained unclear to Count Shishido.

“I’ve just been apprised of the matter, but this is truly an unprecedented and most fantastically bizarre case, I must say!”

With that, Detective Fukuro Nekoneko rounded his hunched back even further and followed behind Count Shishido into the study.

“Ah, so this oil painting is the one in question?”
“Ah, quite a refined masterpiece indeed.”
“No—not this painting.”
“I was referring to this original.”

The detective adroitly spun his misdirection.

“I see—two nails are missing here.”
“To replace a famous painting with such a mysterious one—what an outrageous culprit!”
“I will track down the culprit and ensure your peace of mind.”
“Let us begin by having you recount in detail the events from the night before the theft occurred.”

The detective listened eagerly to Count Shishido’s account and fired off a barrage of sharp questions.

“As you are well aware, I have fallen into decline, and my only servants are an elderly maid named O-Tane and an old manservant named Densuke for miscellaneous tasks.”
“I look at the painting in this study every night, then lock the entrance door myself and retreat to my bedroom.”
“Of course I did the same the previous night.”
“And I can confirm that at that time, the genuine *The Card Players* painting was indeed hanging in the frame.”

Count Shishido explained to the detective in detail the events from the previous night until the morning the incident was discovered.

Through this, the detective investigated the entire house and questioned the servants, but what became clear as a result was that Count Shishido was not lying, that the servants were not involved in the crime, that the thieves had infiltrated through the kitchen window—where faint traces of the culprit’s rubber boots remained in an improbable location—and that traces of the culprit’s gloves were left near the shelves.
And it appeared the culprits were a duo, with one of them presumed to be a woman; moreover, given that her hair was slightly reddish and her complexion fair, upon examining the hair under a pocket microscope and conducting chemical tests, they concluded she was a woman of advanced age nearing forty.
These were all the points Detective Fukuro Nekoneko had been able to ascertain on the spot.

“So the thieves are a pair, and you’re saying one of them is a woman of advanced age?”
“And you’re saying she’s a fair-skinned woman—a beauty at that?”

When Count Shishido heard this from the detective, he widened his eyes and uttered those words.

“One moment, if you please,” Detective Fukuro Nekoneko interjected. “I did not say she was a beauty just now. Though we cannot definitively conclude she’s unattractive either. Perhaps she may indeed be a beauty—as your lordship hopes.”

Count Shishido’s face flushed crimson. “No—I’m not debating her looks,” he deflected. “I want to know whether there’s any prospect of you retrieving that painting from the thieves.”

The detective snuffled through his oversized glasses. “Well, as for that matter—when I synthesize what I’ve discovered thus far…”

Detective Fukuro Nekoneko sniffled his nose like a puppy, then suddenly puffed out his chest and took a deep breath. “...This is truly an extraordinary case! In all of world crime history, this is a novel and bizarre case without any precedent! That’s precisely why leaving it to the likes of the police means they’ll never track down the culprit. This is truly a record-breaking, extraordinary-mysterious case!”

Detective Fukuro Nekoneko suddenly began to vehemently emphasize the gravity of this case.

“That’s terrible! So you’re saying the culprit is an intensely formidable fellow? At least Lupin-class? No—could he be an even higher-grade villain, a Super Lupin-class criminal? This is troubling... Will that masterpiece *The Card Players*—irreplaceable as life itself—never return to my hands for all eternity?”

“That may or may not be the case. For now, kindly entrust this matter to me. Should it remain unsolved within one week, then no one in this world—no matter who—will ever resolve it. With that, I shall take my leave today. No—I shall make contact once daily starting tomorrow...”

With that, Detective Fukuro Nekoneko departed.

Art Dealer Visits the Residence

After Detective Fukuro Nekoneko had left, the art dealer Iwata Tenmondō came to visit Count Shishido.

Count Shishido had intended not to meet anyone afterward; however, since Iwata was an art dealer, he thought that Iwata might already have heard something about the whereabouts of the stolen famous painting, so he decided to meet with Iwata alone.

Master Tenmondō entered Count Shishido’s study in his usual mismatched attire.
Though dressed in traditional haori and hakama attire, he sported a mustache and a neatly rounded goatee beneath his chin, his hair meticulously slicked back with pomade, and brown-framed glasses perched on his face.

“Ah, your lordship.
“I am most profoundly delighted by your esteemed good spirits, yes.”

He bent his waist at an angle greater than ninety degrees.

“Hmph. I’m in a foul mood today.”

Count Shishido spoke in a petulant tone.

“Good heavens! This is most unexpected of your lordship’s words. What matter could have impaired your lordship’s spirits, pray tell—my, my, this is a most unusual painting you have hung here.”

One might indeed praise him as a true art dealer, but Iwata Tenmondō—mid-conversation—caught sight of the painting on the wall and let out a cry of astonishment.

“Can even you tell?”

Count Shishido asked in a pitiful voice.

“On the contrary—this is a truly rare painting indeed.”
“Where did your lordship acquire this painting?”
“And by what manner of jest does your lordship have it displayed here?”

“You say such rude things,” Count Shishido retorted, a thick vein bulging on his forehead.

“Oh no—how terribly rude of me!”
“I prostrate myself in contrition.”
“But to be honest, this dullard Tenmondō cannot comprehend it at all.”
“If I might be so fortunate as to receive your lordship’s explanation…”

Thereupon, Count Shishido softened his expression and recounted the theft of *The Card Players* and how this mysterious painting had been left in its place.

As he listened, Iwata Tenmondō repeatedly let out cries of astonishment, tugged at his goatee without regard for his lordship’s presence, and even clicked his tongue.

“What an utterly dreadful scoundrel exists!”
“If they were going to steal it, they should have just taken the whole thing—no—that was an improper remark, I beg your pardon—leaving behind such a worthless thing is truly the act of a thief who mocks their victim.”
“Even someone as lowly as myself feels sick to the stomach upon seeing this painting.”
“Ugh.”
“I feel sick.”
“What a mockery, what an insult—indeed, your lordship must find this utterly revolting as well.”
“I can only begin to fathom your lordship’s distress.”

Tenmondō studied the Count’s face intently as he spoke.
Count Shishido’s face transitioned from a despondent expression to an indignant one.

“It’s utterly unpleasant.”

“Hey Tenmondō.”
“Get rid of this painting.”
“That’s right—take it out to the garden and burn it.”
“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you ordering me to burn it, your lordship?”
“That is truly—no—your anger is entirely justified.”
“In accordance with your lordship’s esteemed command, I shall promptly remove this mysterious painting from your august presence; however, should your lordship wish to burn it, I most humbly beseech you to transfer it to Tenmondō at a suitable price instead—yes.”
“I shall most diligently apply myself to this endeavor.”

Iwata took out a large wallet from his pocket and tapped it with a thump.

“What? You’re acting strange too.
“What do you intend to do by purchasing such an outrageous forged copy of a famous painting?”

“No, of course—should it come into my hands, I shall turn it into a means of profit.”
“I shall concoct an utterly preposterous explanation—claiming that Cézanne’s disciple went mad while copying *The Card Players* and produced this very work—but in any case, since this bears the brushwork of a French disciple of Cézanne’s, I shall declare it worth five thousand yen per canvas and pass it off to buyers.”

The Count’s heart stirred.

“Then at what price will you take it?”

“Precisely.”
“I shall make a most generous offer—how does one thousand five hundred yen strike your lordship?”

“Hey, you’re planning to make an outrageous profit, aren’t you?”
“Just now you said you’d foist it on buyers for five thousand yen, but when buying it from here, it’s a mere fifteen hundred?”

“Ha ha ha, your lordship leaves me speechless.”
“Selling it requires considerable effort on my part, and I simply cannot proceed without anticipating that degree of profit… Well, very well then.”
“In particular, I shall make an exceptionally grand effort and, stretching myself to the utmost, humbly accept it for four thousand yen.”
“I do humbly request to make a profit of one thousand yen, yes.”

In the end, Iwata Tenmondō purchased this mysterious painting from Count Shishido for four thousand yen, and since a store employee happened to arrive by automobile to pick up Iwata just then, he rode it home.
Of course, he took the mysterious painting with him at that time.

Regarding Uttei Tenku

It was the following day.

Detective Fukuro Nekoneko arrived at the Count’s residence, his back hunched even more deeply than usual, his large face behind the black glasses flushed a mandarin-orange red like fully ripened fruit.

“I have determined the master thief’s whereabouts.”

And Detective Fukuro Nekoneko made this declaration before he had even looked at Count Shishido's face.

Even Count Shishido was astonished by this.
Though he had been inwardly disappointed yesterday, certain the detective was incompetent, this unexpectedly favorable report left him both astonished and suspicious.

“Is that true?”

“Ah—I suppose I must provide an explanation regarding this matter for your lordship to grant me your trust.”
“In truth—having traced clues from that master thief’s modus operandi—truly—truly—he proves a most formidable fellow!”

“I don’t care who the thief is—but when will that famous painting return to me?”

“As for how to retrieve the famous painting, I still have absolutely no confidence, but I have indeed ascertained the thief’s whereabouts...”

“Wait.”
“As I just said, I don’t care who the thief is.”
“The issue is whether that famous painting will return to me or not—I want you to report on that quickly.”

“I shall proceed methodically with the investigation in due order and humbly present my reports to your lordship.”
“However, the reason I have humbly presented myself today is to inform your lordship that I have established investigative procedures as outlined herein, in hopes of providing your lordship with even a modicum of reassurance…”

“Let’s hear it—your story.”
“Let us hear about the criminal’s identity and other particulars.”

Count Shishido was somewhat disappointed but eventually changed his mind and said so to the detective.

“This is a bullseye none but I could have struck—the perpetrator of this crime is none other than that detestable phantom thief Uttei Tenku.”

“What? Who is this Uttei Tenku? Is that the name of some fair-skinned female thief?”

“No, that’s incorrect. The male member of the duo is Uttei Tenku. This fellow is a most peculiar thief, one who steals nothing but unusual items. He has stolen clock towers from buildings in a single night, made off with the taxidermied head of a hippopotamus from science museums, and—most extraordinary of all—even pilfered a man’s heart from his romantic rival.”

“He does such cruel things.”
“What a hateful murderer.”

“Ah, no—he does not commit murder.”

“But if he extracts a man’s heart from his romantic rival, that man will die.”

“However, as per the constitution steadfastly upheld by the master thief Uttei Tenku—‘Those who steal must not fail to pay compensation to their victims. Even pickpockets must leave chocolate in the pockets from which they take wallets.’—such are the principles of this extraordinary thief… nay, this detestable scoundrel!”
“Even pickpockets must leave chocolate in the pockets from which they take wallets”—such are the principles asserted by this master thief… nay, this detestable scoundrel!
“Therefore, in the case of your lordship’s theft as well, he inserted another painting as compensation—a master thief of rare dutifulness—nay, rather, a monstrous villain who deserves nothing but hatred.”

“I see.”
“This is utterly bizarre!”

Count Shishido was shocked, as this was the first time he had heard about the master thief Uttei Tenku.
However, he found himself bothered by certain parts of Detective Fukuro’s words that occasionally grated on his ears.
In some parts, the detective’s words even sounded as though he respected Uttei.

In truth, this had deep origins.
The thief Uttei Tenku and Detective Fukuro Nekoneko had been playing their game of cat and mouse for many years.
They had endured countless shoulder throws from one another and made each other drink copious draughts of bitter water.
As years passed, they found themselves seething with fresh resolve to finally defeat their opponent—even as a peculiar nostalgia for that same adversary welled up within them.
This too must be counted among the subtleties of human emotion.

“So, has this Uttei Tenku fellow confessed to stealing my famous painting?”

“No, no—it hasn’t yet come to that.”
“Having judged from the nature of the crime and its methods, I deduced that this incident must undoubtedly be the work of that Uttei Tenku, and thus I have come to report my findings to your lordship.”

“Then bind up that Uttei Tenku or whatever his name is without delay and have him brought before me.”

“Ah, regarding that matter—in truth, I have been keeping Uttei under constant surveillance. But for some reason, he hasn’t been at headquarters these past six months, you see.”
“In other words, he has gone into hiding.”
“Given who he is, I don’t believe he’s dead.”
“Since his subordinates are still vigorously and methodically carrying out their activities, leader Uttei Tenku must not be dead but rather hiding somewhere.”
“Therefore, I have resolved to henceforth investigate Uttei Tenku’s whereabouts with the utmost diligence.”

“That’s another flimsy account, isn’t it?”
“Even the conclusion I heard earlier—that the culprit is Uttei—has now grown unreliable.”
“You—are you quite all right?”

Count Shishido assumed a pathetic expression.

“Absolutely no problem! In all the world, I alone possess the capability to apprehend the master thief Uttei Tenku. No matter what happens, I will seize him by the tail, apprehend him, and lay him at your lordship’s feet!”

“Wait a moment. As I always say—rather than catching the criminal, devote your efforts to returning my famous painting to my hands.”

“Speaking of famous paintings—what has become of the substituted one? Did you remove it from the wall and dispose of it?”

“Well, I sold that phony masterpiece to the regular art dealer for four thousand yen.”

“How very... expedient of you.”
“Such promptness on your part.”

“Every time I see it dozens of times a day, it turns my stomach, so it’s better not to have it at all.”

“However, your lordship acted a tad too hastily.”
“This is most…”

With that, Detective Fukuro Nekoneko crossed his arms, tilted his head, and sank into deep thought.

The Phantom Thief’s Intrusion

Three such famous painting substitution incidents occurred within that week.

However, only one instance was reported to the authorities. In one other instance, the victim did not notice [the substitution], and in another instance, due to circumstances, they did not report it to the authorities. The circumstances were that the famous painting had been acquired through channels that could not be made public, and they refrained from reporting it out of fear that doing so would stir up a hornet’s nest.

Detective Fukuro Nekoneko knew about these three incidents. That was likely due to his diligence and the reliability of the surveillance network he had established.

He examined the three incidents side by side in strict secrecy.
As a result, he discovered two things common to the three incidents.

The first was that the thieves always operated as a pair, with one of them being a female thief.

The second was that after each incident, buyers of mysterious paintings would always come and purchase the worthless artworks at inflated prices.
In all cases except the Count’s, the buyers were not Iwata Tenmondō. However, since the spiel used when purchasing the works was nearly identical across all three incidents, this made the detective suspect they might belong to a single network of merchants—prompting Detective Fukuro Nekoneko’s investigation to delve even deeper.

Around that time, there was a nouveau riche named Kitaoka Sangorō. He stood out as unusually aesthetic-minded among his peers; using a portion of his amassed wealth, he purchased a former prince’s villa in its entirety and became engrossed in collecting Japanese paintings, Western paintings, and other artworks. However, given the short period, he could not have gathered any truly significant pieces—yet among them was one painting that could be called the finest of its kind. It was Rubens’s *Three Nymphs with a Cornucopia*.

This was a vertically oriented painting where, true to its title, three nymphs stood upon the canvas holding a conical tube called a cornucopia from which flowers and fruits overflowed.

This famous painting, Kitaoka had hung on the reception room wall.
He would show this famous painting to each and every guest and make them listen to his patched-together explanations at great, boastful length.

Detective Fukuro Nekoneko had his eye on this famous painting.
He thought it would inevitably fall prey to phantom thieves targeting famous paintings.
The master thieves possessed considerable discernment—or rather, an appraiser’s eye—and would only take away pieces that were genuine masterpieces commanding high prices.
Even if another major work hung beside it, they would discern its inferiority by several degrees and leave it untouched.
Therefore, he thought, the master thieves would undoubtedly target this Rubens masterpiece.

However, he did not give Mr. Kitaoka any prior warning about this.
Was this his unkindness?

Whether because of this or not, the master thieves finally infiltrated the Kitaoka residence.
It was the quiet late night after the storm had passed.

Of the two thieves wrapped in black garments, one was a tall, broad-shouldered giant who was unmistakably male. The other thief stood around five feet two inches tall—considerably shorter—but with a noticeably protruding waistline. This one appeared to be a female thief. She wore something like a nightcap on her head and covered the upper part of her face with a large black blindfold.

The man took the lead in handling the intrusion tasks and proceeded to dispatch them efficiently. He seemed quite experienced at breaking in, as he easily pried open the sliding door at the end of the garden-facing corridor and beckoned his companion inside.

The two made their way through each room, surveying the interiors.
And using a small container, they blew something mist-like into the room through the gap.

“If we leave it like this, they’ll sleep soundly for at least four hours.”

The male thief said to his companion with a laugh.

Finally, they entered the reception room.

“Ah, truly worthy of Rubens.”
“What a masterpiece.”

The male thief spread his broad shoulders wide and gazed enraptured at the canvas.
After a moment, a gentle force was applied to his left arm.
The female thief had embraced it.
The female thief pressed her body tightly against him.

For some reason, the male thief shouted “This!” and pulled away from his companion.
He gingerly rubbed his left arm.

“Let’s put aside these trivial matters and get to work.”
“You can work undisturbed for one full hour—I’ll ensure complete security. Focus on your task without hesitation.”
“If any interference comes from outside, I’ll handle it in five minutes.”
“Now, let’s get to work.”

What was this "work"?

The male thief withdrew and took up watch.
The female thief stepped forward.
She stared intently at the canvas of Rubens’s *Three Nymphs with a Cornucopia*, then gave a slight nod, pulled a small desk closer, placed a black bundle atop it, and untied it.

From inside emerged a paint box and a glass bottle wrapped in paper that held liquid, among other things.
The female thief arranged these on the small desk and finished inspecting them, then opened the lid of a small can and held it in her left hand, took a brush in her right hand, and approached the painting.
Just as one might wonder what she was about to do, she dipped the brush into the small can and stirred it around, then abruptly slapped it onto the canvas.

Then the canvas turned white only where the brush had touched.

What was she planning to paint over? Even so, it was a bizarre act by the thief.

The female thief created three white-painted areas on the canvas.
The face of the rightmost nymph disappeared.
The left hand of the middle nymph was erased.
The face of the leftmost nymph was painted white, and its right hand vanished under white pigment.

The male thief walking behind occasionally stopped to stare intently at his companion's work.

The female thief's strange procedure continued.

When finished, she next took a palette from the paint box and grasped a brush in her right hand.
Then with consummate skill and speed, she began painting a new composition over the freshly whitened areas.
This altered imagery flowed seamlessly into the original painting's untouched sections.

In other words, while the rightmost nymph in the original painting faced a three-quarter angle, it had been redrawn by her hand to face directly sideways.
The left hand of the central nymph, which hung down in the original painting, had been redrawn by her to appear as though embracing the cornucopia.
Then the leftmost nymph had been adjusted to face frontally, and the shape of her hand had also been altered.
When that was done, the female thief began hurriedly putting away the tools.

Then the male thief approached.

“Hmm.”
“Truly remarkable.”
“Ms. Fujishiro’s skill is truly awe-inspiring.”
“The pigments may have been meticulously prepared, but I must say, achieving brushwork indistinguishable from Rubens’ own is nothing short of astonishing.”
“With this, no one who sees it would ever suspect such alterations were made.”
“Hmm…”

The male thief adopted a completely changed attitude from before and praised his companion.

"The only time you ever give me kind words is right after we've done this sort of work."
"You impossible man."

“Come on, let’s hurry. Once the job’s done, we make our exit.”

The male thief urged the female thief and promptly exited the room.
The garden-facing door closed tightly again as before after letting out the two thieves.
The famous painting *Three Nymphs with a Cornucopia*, now transformed into a mysterious work through these alterations, had come to rest in that good, quiet parlor.

Two days later, art dealer Iwata Tenmondō came and purchased this mysterious painting.

Underground Studio

In a certain location of a certain mountain range, there existed an underground mansion owned by Uttei Tenku.

That one room was quite spacious and was now the Famous Paintings Chamber.

That day, Uttei brought in a new painting.
It was a mysterious painting resembling Rubens’s *Three Nymphs with a Cornucopia*.

Beside him stood a fair-skinned, refined woman nearing forty, assisting in the task.

The mysterious painting was placed face up on the central table.
The oval-faced, pale-complexioned handsome man Uttei Tenku urged the woman with an impatient look.

“Even if you rush, it won’t make any difference.”

“No—I won’t feel at ease unless you remove the covering and show me the original beneath.”
“Ms. Fujishiro, hurry…”

The middle-aged woman addressed as Ms. Fujishiro seemed to take some pleasure in keeping Uttei in a state of mild agitation.
Even so, she finally set to work.
A bluish chemical solution was poured into a white vat.
She soaked a white gauze into it, letting it thoroughly absorb the liquid.
The woman picked it up, pressed it against the canvas, and rubbed several times.

Then the face of the rightmost nymph, which had been facing sideways, shifted to a three-quarter angle. Paint had adhered to the gauze.

The woman washed the gauze in the white vat and performed similar treatment on other areas of the canvas. The position of the central nymph’s hand shifted, and then the leftmost nymph, which had been facing front, turned to face right.

“Splendid, splendid!”
“Ms. Fujishiro, this is remarkable.”
“At last—the masterpiece makes its grand appearance!”
“Now then, let’s hang that over there on the wall.”

Uttei was in excellent spirits as he hung the restored masterpiece between the walls and gazed at it in fascination.

The oil painting metamorphosis technique he had Ms. Fujishiro perform had followed the methods and techniques of the thief George Dean, who once stole da Vinci’s *Mona Lisa* from the Louvre Museum and made numerous copies to amass a fortune.
In other words, there existed a certain chemical solution that, when applied to the canvas, allowed any subsequently painted layers to be wiped away cleanly.

As Uttei Tenku and Ms. Fujishiro stood enraptured while gazing at eight collected masterpieces in this quiet studio, the door opened soundlessly, and through it entered a man—hunched severely, wearing black glasses and a long overcoat—who gave a light cough.

Uttei Tenku shouted “Ah!”, turned around while deftly retrieving his familiar pistol, was about to pull the trigger, but managed to stop himself at the perilous last moment.

“Well—an unexpected arrival.”
“Welcome indeed, Professor Fukuro.”

“I knew it would come to this. How tasteless.”
“Nonsense—it’s perfectly legitimate. I’ve conducted no unlawful dealings.”

Uttei Tenku stood firm.
Ms. Fujishiro, for her part, shrank bashfully into the corner.

“But you ought to quit this sort of business now.”
“There’s only one trick at play here.”
“Repeating it time and again hardly becomes you, Uttei Tenku.”

“Hmph. Offering advice now?”
“I’ll concede repeating methods grows stale—but with so many dullards about, I presumed this technique remained undetected.”

“You’re losing your edge.”

With that, Detective Fukuro marched over to *Three Nymphs with a Cornucopia*.

“To disguise yourself as art dealer Iwata Tenmondō and use the same trick twice—what a blunder.”
“And what’s more—you do realize this painting is a fake too, don’t you?”

“A fake? This painting…? Save your lies! This is genuine!”

Uttei shouted in a rage.

“However—much to your chagrin—this happens to be counterfeit.”
“Following your lead, I’ve obtained similar chemicals myself.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me—”

With that declaration, Detective Fukuro strode past Uttei Tenku and Fujishiro Joshi, produced a flask from his overcoat pocket, uncorked it, and showered the canvas with its brown contents in one sweeping motion.

“Ah! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Uttei Tenku lunged at Detective Fukuro Nekoneko and struck down the bottle, but it was already too late.

“Don’t make a fuss—take a good look at the canvas.”

Detective Fukuro Nekoneko said calmly.

To their astonishment, the nymphs and cornucopia on the canvas began fading rapidly. After about a minute and a half, Rubens’ painting had completely vanished, replaced instead by a crudely drawn landscape of a wooded grove that had been hidden beneath.

“Oh my. What do we have here?”

Detective Fukuro grinned at Uttei’s astonishment,

“I trust you now understand—on my side too, I have skilled copyists at my disposal. There exists a painter who can create Rubens’ masterpiece over a landscape painting in a single night.”
“Furthermore, by imitating the chemical solution you possess, I have also prepared a most convenient solution that dissolves and erases different paints with properties distinct from yours.”
“So, Uttei-sama.”
“You really should stop employing such antiquated methods.”
“There’s simply no need to go through the trouble of paying exorbitant sums—even if they’re mere thousands—and enduring all manner of physical and mental hardships just to gather worthless counterfeit masterpieces there.”

This contest seemed finally decided as Uttei's defeat.

Of course, this occurred some time later, but it goes without saying that Cézanne’s *The Card Players* was safely returned to the Count’s possession.
The Count has declared that he would never sell this painting—not even over his dead body.