Pathway to Japanese Literature

Rattling open the entrance shoji, a small-statured student in a student mantle entered the dim earthen entryway, his snake-eye umbrella—still glistening with rainwater—folded in half.
The Master of the House, having already finished preparing for the next morning’s work, was sipping his two *go* of sake at the edge of the dining tray as though savoring it when he turned his gaze toward the earthen entryway, cup still in hand.

“Welcome.”

It was indeed the Mr. Student Lodger from that estate at the foot of the slope that he recognized—yet try as he might, he couldn’t quite recall which particular estate’s Mr. Student Lodger this was.

“Do you have silk-strained tofu?”

“Silk-strained tofu?”
The Master of the House said this and looked toward his wife across the table—who had long since finished her meal and was warming herself by the hibachi—muttering, “Silk-strained tofu, he said. There should still be some left, shouldn’t there?”

“Ah, there’s a little left.”
The wife twisted her body toward the entrance as if trying to see through to the guest, but his figure remained hidden in the shoji screen’s shadow.
Still, she said, “Welcome.”

“Three pieces would suffice,” said the student lodger, coughing three times in succession.

“We have about three pieces available. Which household would you be from?”

The wife started to rise.
"The estate below... let me see."
The Master of the House still couldn't recall.
"It's the Kirishima residence below," said the student lodger.

“Ah yes—Mr. Kirishima! You always forget your container, you see. As for the silk-strained tofu—we end up mincing it into scraps or such.”

“How about this—he mentioned cutting it into cubes.”

“I see—cubed, then. I’ll deliver it right away.”

The wife stood up and came forward, showing her face.

“Welcome, and thank you ever so much for your trouble. We heard His Lordship has taken gravely ill—how does he fare now?”

“It seems his kidneys are quite unwell. For those attending tonight’s vigil—given the cold—they’re saying to serve something warm along with sake.”

“I see—that must be terribly difficult. Truly, even someone of such high standing isn’t immune to illness.”

“Even with two doctors attending to his care, when it’s a troublesome illness like this, it doesn’t heal right away, you see.”

“Truly.”

“Shall I take it with me?”

“Oh, no need—I’ll deliver it right away.”
The Master of the House added afterward.

“It’s perfectly fine if I take it with me—it’s late, and it’s raining besides.”

“Oh, no need—I’ll deliver it right away.”

If only he hadn’t made that unnecessary remark, they could’ve had Mr. Student Lodger take it—the thought of her husband’s superfluous words grated on her nerves.

“Then I’ll take you up on that immediately.”

The student lodger nodded slightly, then turned sharply and went outside.
With that, the shoji closed, followed immediately by the sound of an umbrella snapping open.

“You’re the one who’ll end up taking it, aren’t you? If you’d just said you’d take it, then take it already! If you hadn’t opened your big mouth, I could’ve asked Mr. Student Lodger instead. Catching a cold over two or three measly pieces of tofu in this freezing weather—what’s the point of that?”
The wife snapped and looked down at the Master of the House.

The Master of the House had been holding a cup while waiting for the student lodger to leave.

"It's one of our regular households—an esteemed customer! Don't speak that way."

"Whether customers or mansions—if it's Mr. Student Lodger, what's the problem? Take it there now!"

"Now don't say such things—they're valued patrons. You take it there."

"I won't! Since you said you'd take it, take it yourself!"

"Enough—you deliver it and come back straightaway. They're important clients."

“You won’t go, will you? Even on moonlit nights, you’re scared of passing by the temple! Tonight’s pitch black, and it’s raining besides. I’m scared too! You take it there already!”

“Don’t say such things—you go and come back! If it’s dark, there’s a lantern, isn’t there?”

“You take that lantern and go deliver it.”

“Don’t say such things.”
The timid Master of the House, having no choice, drank the sake from his cup and, while pouring himself another, said, “Stop talking nonsense and go already.”

“Scared as you are, if you hadn’t gone and said all that unnecessary stuff.”

Having finally said what she wanted to say, the wife—her body now feeling lighter—descended to the earthen floor and began making clattering sounds in the dim lamplight.
While hearing the sound, the Master of the House formed a bitter smile and muttered something under his breath.
That growl sounded strange to the wife’s ears.

“Really, because you had to go and say unnecessary things in this cold… It can’t be helped.”

The wife went out carrying an okamochi lacquered box filled with tofu and a bangasa oil-paper umbrella.
The Master of the House watched her retreating figure, but when the shoji screen closed, he clicked his tongue.
"Idiot!"

A dim electric light hung above the dining table.
The Master of the House glanced at the electric light bulb before stealing a quick look to his right.
There stood a shoji leading to the kitchen.
Two or three holes pierced the shoji paper, with dim lamplight spilling through them.
A shadowy figure seemed faintly projected onto the shoji.
Feeling a slight chill, the Master of the House timidly fixed his gaze there.
He saw nothing resembling a shadow.
Finally relieved, the Master of the House took his cup and drank a sip.

He grew uneasy about the earthen floor area.
The Master of the House again directed his gaze to his left.
The sound of damply falling rain reached his ears.
The Master of the House's thoughts followed after his wife who had gone to deliver the tofu.
Carrying the lacquered food pail, his wife descended the steeply sloped hill before turning left along the temple's stone wall at its base.
At the temple gate entrance, dim lamplight reflected off a red pine's trunk.
Along an extensive stone wall stretched a cedar hedge through whose gaps stone monuments peered.
Utility poles appeared one after another following that stone wall.
The houses on their right stood shuttered - faint lamplight leaking through door cracks where needle-fine cold rain caught illumination to weave faint streaks emerging in darkness.

The town bent slightly to the left, and at the corner came a utility pole into view.
A cluster of will-o’-wisps resembling blue fireflies flew from nowhere and collided violently with the utility pole.
The moment they struck, they shattered into fragments and scattered downward...

The Master of the House felt his breath catch in terror.
He clung to the dining table as if grasping for support but, unsettled by his surroundings, forced himself to first look toward the earthen floor before turning to peer at the shoji screen on his right.
He sensed a sinister eyeball glowing through one of the torn holes in the shoji.
He threw himself under the futon laid over the foot warmer, curling up like a cat or dog as he buried himself completely.

The Master of the House’s heart finally began to calm.
He remembered it was about time for his wife to return.
He thought he must get up before she came inside if she returned.
He slightly lifted the futon covering him and strained his ears for any clatter of wooden sandals.

All that could be heard was the sound of damply falling rain. He recalled again the will-o’-the-wisp story someone had told him two or three days prior. A cluster of blue will-o’-wisps, resembling fireflies, collided with a utility pole, and the image of them shattering into fragments floated before his eyes.

(That must be Kirishima’s student lodger’s will-o’-the-wisp—they say he was killed by a car with an unknown driver, but there must be some tangled reason behind it. Otherwise, why would he appear as a will-o’-the-wisp?)

In the tenement that had become the left neighbor of the Kirishima residence, a story he had once heard revived in the Master of the House’s ears.

(He was such a fine man—a student lodger who wouldn’t disgrace even the mansion’s young master. There must have been some reason behind it all.)

The words spoken by the master of the barbershop at the foot of the slope also floated up.

(Such a grand mansion—there must be all sorts of things happening there that are beyond our understanding.)

The Master of the House was picturing something akin to the upper-class family scandals seen in newsreels.
Then came the sound of shoji screens being opened frantically with a clatter.
The Master of the House, startled, flung off the futon and tried to sit up.

“Cold, cold! What a terrible ordeal I went through!”
The Wife entered, shivering as she clutched the handle of her dripping-wet umbrella, but upon noticing the Master of the House—who had flung off his futon and propped himself halfway up—she said, “Truly a coward, aren’t you? Have you no shame?”

“Idiot! What’s there to be scared of? I was waiting ’cause there was nobody to serve the meal!”

The Master of the House, thinking to avoid letting his wife notice, pretended calmness as he took out the foot warmer and sat back in his original spot.

“If you’re not scared, then why don’t you just go ahead and eat by yourself? It’s all set out so you can eat anytime.”

The Wife went to place the lacquered food pail on the dark shelf.

“Would the Master of the House ever serve himself rice alone?”

“Now that you don’t have to go out anymore, you’re suddenly acting all high and mighty, aren’t you?”
While stepping up onto the narrow veranda, the Wife resolved to scare the Master of the House.
“But it’s a good thing I didn’t make you go. I was scared too, but if it had been you, who knows what would’ve happened.”

“Wh-what is it?”

The Master of the House turned pale.

"There was something unpleasant..."
With a frightened face, the Wife passed between the long brazier and dining table, straightened the futon the Master of the House had kicked off while settling into the foot warmer, and said, "I saw it. I'd thought it was just hearsay, but I truly saw it."

"What? What?"

"On my way back, when I reached that corner with the utility pole, a blue will-o’-the-wisp came floating softly and collided with it."

The Master of the House clung to the dining table as if grasping for support.
The Wife stared fixedly at that.

“I was at a loss about what to do. When I came running down to the base of the slope in a panic, three student lodgers were descending from above, so I finally came to my senses.”

The Master of the House let out a deep, shuddering breath instead of replying.
The Wife burst out laughing.

“Truly a coward, aren’t you?”

The Master of the House also realized that his wife had been teasing him.

“What? You’re making fun of me? There’s nothing scary about that.”

“You really are such a coward.”
The Wife stopped laughing and became serious. “Now, eat your food quickly.”

“Quit joking. I’m not scared of anything.”

The Master of the House spread both his arms wide.

Finally roused by his wife sitting at his bedside shaking him awake, the Master of the House—still unbearably sleepy—scratched the wrist of his outstretched right hand with his left fingertips while emitting a groggy sound.

“It’s still too damn early. Ain’t no use gettin’ up at such an ungodly hour.”
“It’s not early. It’s already four o’clock. Hurry up and get up.”
“It’s fine even after four o’clock.”
“It won’t do. If you don’t hurry, during these short days, there’ll be no time to get anything done. Get up.”

Because his wife shook him again, the Master of the House reluctantly got up, squatted on the futon, and blinked blearily with sleepy eyes. The dim electric lamp shone coldly. The Wife already wore a black work jacket while an iron kettle boiled on the long brazier.

“How’s the rain?”

“It’s stopped. I’ll make breakfast now—light the gas lamp and open the front door.”

The Master of the House did not want to be exposed to the cold wind.
And outside the house lay a dark night thick with ghostly malice.

“It can wait until after the meal, can’t it?”

“It won’t do! If you don’t open it now, you’ll throw off our whole schedule!”

From the kitchen came the smell of burnt rice.
The Wife headed toward the kitchen.

The Master of the House found this irksome, but if he kept dawdling, his wife would mock him again as a coward or worse. Reluctantly, he heaved himself up, grabbed the match lying on the edge of the long brazier, stepped down into the earthen-floored workspace, stretched on tiptoe to turn the gas valve, and lit it with the match.
A bright pale flame burst forth, illuminating the stone mill for grinding beans and the tofu cauldron.

Once the gas flame stabilized, he put the matchbox into his pocket, went to the entrance to open the shoji screen, then placed his fingers on the hanging padlock. The padlock was as cold as ice. He removed it with such force that his fingertips ached, placed his hand on the storm shutter, but feeling as though some unidentifiable monster stood beyond the door, fearfully opened it.

A cold wind blew in from the darkness.
The Master of the House drew a tense breath near shoulder level.
However, since nothing seemed amiss after all, he finally relaxed and stepped outside intending to remove the storm shutters.

“Mr. Tofu Seller.”

Startled by the sudden voice, the Master of the House pressed a hand to his racing heart and peered through the darkness.
A boy wearing a student’s cloak stood before him.

“My apologies for keeping you out so late last night.”

This was the student lodger from the Kirishima household who had come to order tofu the previous evening.

“Oh! You’re Mr. Kirishima’s student lodger?”

“Indeed—this is Kirishima speaking. We require another substantial order today. Would you accompany me to the mansion at once?”

The Master of the House immediately grew concerned about the utility pole at the corner, but thinking dawn would break before long, decided it would be acceptable to go.

“My apologies for asking at such an early hour, but would you come along?”

“Let us go.”
Having said that, the Master of the House turned toward the interior,

“Hey, Mr. Kirishima says there’s some business, so I’ll go over for a bit.”

A reply from the Wife was heard from inside the house.

“Go ahead then—but even so, isn’t this absurdly early?”

“Because His Lordship is ill, all household members keep vigil through the night—there’s no longer any difference between evening and morning.”

The two began walking together.

“Ah yes—how dreadful,” he said deferentially. “Might His Lordship’s condition have improved somewhat?”

“It’s really not improving at all—quite troubling.”

The Master of the House looked up at the sky as he walked.
In patches between broken rain clouds of the dawning sky lingered faint starlight.
The Master of the House felt relieved thinking that regardless of anything else, this was undeniably dawn.

After they began descending the steep slope, the conversation between the two ceased.
The Master of the House walked slightly behind and to the right of the student lodger.
On the trunk of the red pine at the temple gate, the light of the electric lamp still hung.
When they had been atop the slope, it had seemed dawn might break any moment, but upon descending, they found only pitch darkness devoid of any morning light.
The Master of the House grew anxious.

"Can it still be this early?"

The white half of the student's face came into view.

"It'll be dawn soon."

Along the stone wall, utility poles loomed in terrifying shapes.
When he peered through the upper part of the hedge, a stone monument’s top appeared to emit an unnatural glow.
The Master of the House’s heart sank.
He walked pressed close beside the student lodger.

The road’s bend came into view there.
The Master of House fearfully looked toward that utility pole.
The jet-black standing column showed nothing suspicious.
Still, he passed beneath it while holding his breath.

After walking half a *chō*, Kirishima’s estate appeared.
Above its large gate built from granite blocks shone an electric lamp.
Over that lamp’s light stirred faintly a cherry tree’s bare branches.

The student lodger entered through the side gate on the left.
The Master of the House also followed him in.
Inside the gate stood a small frosted-glass building meant for the gatekeeper, its light still burning, but no trace of the gatekeeper himself could be seen.

The student lodger headed toward the main entrance.
To reach the kitchen entrance, one had to turn left there along the bamboo fence.

"Isn’t it this way?"

The Master of the House stopped momentarily.
The white hand of the student lodger moved as if beckoning 'Come here'.
The Master of the House walked toward the student lodger.
A cold wind was blowing through the branches of the garden shrubs.

In front of the entrance was a circular planting bed with a large sago palm.
The light of the electric lamp shone brightly on its saw-toothed leaves.
Two automobiles were parked on its left side.
At the entrance, about ten pairs of shoes and geta were visible, and the shoji screen was closed.
The student lodger entered the entranceway.

"I will be waiting at the inner entrance."

The Master of the House thought that by no means could he enter through the main entrance.
The student lodger slid open the shoji without making a sound, turned back, and raised his white hand in a beckoning gesture.

“But this is too much.”

The student lodger continued beckoning in silence.
The Master of the House reluctantly entered.
By the brazier in the entranceway was a student lodger, sleeping with one elbow propped against it.

The student lodger who had brought the Master of the House continued deeper inside without pause.
The Master of the House reluctantly followed after him.
The Master of the House found himself walking down a corridor before he knew it.
In the rooms lining the left side, electric lights burned brightly in every chamber.
When they turned left down the corridor and reached the end, they found a Western-style room with its door shut tight.
The student lodger opened it and entered, holding the door with one hand while beckoning again with the other.
The Master of the House stepped inside and looked.

The room felt as warm as late spring.
There lay a couch where a man with black hair and sallow complexion struggled to breathe, his head resting on the pillow's left side.
The Master of the House thought this must be the Lord Count who was said to be ill.
At the pillow's head, two nurses sat sleeping in their chairs.
At the foot of the couch, five or six men sat on a rug spread over carpeting, all asleep—some slumped forward, others leaning against the back wall.

The Master of the House stood alongside the student lodger.
The Master of the House wondered what he intended to do by bringing him to such a place and cautiously peered at the student lodger’s face.
The Master of the House was so afraid that he felt his vision blur.
That was the face of Yamawaki, a student lodger who had been run over by an automobile and met a gruesome death several months prior.
The student lodger’s face appeared directly reflected in the Master of the House’s eyes.

“Tofu Seller, you will do as I say.”

The Master of the House trembled violently.

“There’s no need to be afraid. If you do exactly as I say, there will be nothing to fear at all.”

“Y-yes.”

The student lodger put one hand into his breast pocket and took something out from within.
It was a small black cord looped like a sash.

“Wrap this around the Lord Count’s neck. Just wrap it around—no matter what noise you make, no one will wake. It’s safe. Wrap it around.”

“Y-yes.”

“Hurry, do as I say and wrap it around! Are you refusing to obey? Hurry and wrap it around! Just wrap it around—that’s all you need to do. You don’t have to do anything else.”

The small cord came to rest in the Master of the House’s hand.
The Master of the House, trembling violently, took hold of it.

“Now go quickly and wrap it around!”

The Master of the House reluctantly walked toward the couch.
As he walked, he thought that if he were noticed and seen by anyone, it would lead to disaster.
He could not tell what his feet were stepping on.

The Master of the House went to the Count’s side.
The Count was groaning.
The Master of the House took out the small cord and attempted to gently wrap it around the Count’s neck.
Then, as if blown by the wind, the small cord drifted back toward his hand.
The Master of the House thought he had failed, so he looped the cord under the chin once more, but no sooner had he done so than it drifted back again.
He thought it wasn’t wrapping properly because he was flustered.
And so, steeling himself, the Master of the House once again put the cord to the neck.
But that cord too returned to his hand.

The Master of the House returned trembling violently, but afraid to look at the student lodger’s face, kept his head bowed and timidly spoke in a hushed voice.

“I don’t know why—it keeps springing back and won’t stay wrapped.”

“I see. It might not hold. Then place this at his bedside.”

The student lodger took two small stones from his breast pocket and showed them.

“Place these at the Lord Count’s bedside. Anywhere will do. These stones will work. Go and place them.”

The Master of the House, still holding the small cord, accepted the stones and went back to the Count. He quietly placed them at the bedside and returned as if fleeing.

“Come here. We can’t wrap the cord here, so let’s go where we can.”

The student lodger opened the door to leave and turned back.
The Master of the House followed as if dragged along.
The Master of the House walked through the front garden.
In the garden, pond water glowed mouse-gray in the darkness.
Circling the pond's edge brought them to a detached house's veranda.
The student lodger climbed onto the veranda and slid open the dim room's shoji screen.

A strange painting hung there.
A woman lay on a couch, stretching her pale left hand to prop up her ear as she conversed with a man seated before her nose.
Light from a green-lamped fixture cast seductive shadows around the couch.
The Master of the House recognized at once: this was the Countess with her wooden-doll face, and there sat the chauffeur.
He felt he'd stumbled into forbidden territory, yet it all seemed like a fever vision now—nothing more to unsettle him.
He looked at the student lodger's face.
All fear of this uncanny youth had left him.
The student lodger bared a ghastly smile, then raised his right hand in a silencing gesture.

The Countess and the chauffeur seemed unaware that the two had entered and continued their conversation as before.
Their voices could not be heard.
The Master of the House began to feel as though he were watching a theatrical performance.

“Wait a bit longer. Something momentous is about to occur.”

The student lodger’s voice reached the Master of the House’s ears.

“What could these two be doing here?”

The Master of the House spoke thus and ventured to ask.

“Taking advantage of the Count’s illness, these two are carrying on like this—this too is part of my revenge.”

“And what might be the reason for that, might I ask?”

“It all began with this immoral Countess. When our relationship risked exposure, she ordered that villain here—this chauffeur—to wait for me one night as I returned from my senior’s house in Waseda. They ran me over by Ishikiribashi Bridge. The world thinks some unknown motorcar killed me, but it was that scoundrel’s doing. That villain wanted to expose my affair with the Countess, drive her out, and install his mistress from Shitaya in her place. But fearing complications with his status as an adopted son, he schemed to eliminate me first and deal with her later. Wait just a little longer—the time to exact revenge on that villain has come.”

The Student Lodger laughed horribly again.

“When you say ‘villain,’ do you mean the Lord?”
“Exactly—the Count. That House of Peers member puts on airs like some noble statesman, but he’s a villain,” said the student lodger, suddenly jabbing the Master of the House’s shoulder.
“Look at that tableau—the play’s about to begin.”

The Master of the House looked toward the couch.
The Countess’s hands were coiled around the man’s neck like serpents.
Simultaneously came a faint feminine chuckle.

“Move closer this way. The players will soon make their entrance.”

The Student Lodger seized the Master of the House’s collar and yanked.
Obediently, the Master shuffled nearer.
Before them gaped the shoji screen left ajar by the lodger.
The Master fixed his gaze upon that paper partition.

A faltering tread echoed through the stillness.
Figures materialized in the doorway.
There stood the Count—the invalid who should have been confined to his Western-style sickbed—his face ghastly pale.
The Master’s eyes bulged at this walking contradiction of a man who’d required round-the-clock care.
The nobleman lurched forward, but upon witnessing the obscene tableau upon the couch, unleashed a feral snarl.

The chauffeur shook off the Countess’s hand and raised his body from its sideways position.
The Count’s left hand grasped his collar.
The Countess, startled too, tried to right herself on the couch.
The Count’s right hand seized that thick-haired head.
The Count growled like a beast once more.
Then he drew a great, labored breath.

“What are you doing, Your Lordship? Such barbaric conduct—I must insist you refrain from behavior befitting base commoners.”

The Countess attempted to pry loose the Count’s hand, but he would not release his grip.

“Please release me. If Your Lordship insists on such violent conduct, I shall be quite distressed.”

The Count let out a growl again.

“Master, now that things have come to this, I won’t resort to cowardly tricks either. Please let go—if you keep this up, I can’t breathe. Let’s talk this over calmly. There’s no need for any fuss,” the chauffeur said coolly, trying to remove the hand but failing.

“Now’s the time! Go now—put that cord around him! It’ll work now for sure!”

The student lodger, having said this, made as if to prod the Master of the House.
The Master of the House’s legs wouldn’t move.

“Since they’re occupied like that, they won’t notice however close you get. Just loop that cord around his neck—that’s all you need to do.”

The Master of the House reluctantly approached the Count.
The Count was breathing heavily.
The Master of the House spread the loop of thin cord he’d been clutching in both hands and cast it over the tall Count’s back.
The cord settled softly around the Count’s body.
At that same instant, the Count’s body toppled backward.
The Master of the House fled back to the Student Lodger’s side.

“Good, good. It worked.”

The student lodger welcomed the Master of the House and laughed contentedly.
While listening to that remark, the Master of the House glanced back over his shoulder.
The Countess and the chauffeur stood by the Count’s bedside whispering something, but soon the chauffeur parted from her and hurried out of the room.

“If people come, it’ll be troublesome. That guy’s about to flee anyway. Our business here’s done—let’s head back together.”

As the Student Lodger began to leave, the Master of the House immediately followed close behind.
By the pond and through the woods, the figure of the Student Lodger could be seen.
The Master of the House followed, resolved not to fall behind the student lodger.

The dimly lit lamplight of the gatekeeper’s room appeared.
A misty rain as fine as hair was falling from the pitch-black sky.
The Student Lodger’s figure had already passed through the side gate.
The Master of the House also exited through the side gate behind him and felt a sense of relief, his mind easing.

Before the gate lay an automobile with lamps casting a yellowish-orange light.
The Master of the House had assumed it must be waiting for visitors coming to pay their respects.
Then the Student Lodger walked toward it and entered.
His face now floated within the automobile's yellowish lamplight.

"Hey Tofu Seller—tonight succeeded thanks to you. With your help, I've struck down my enemy. Two accomplices remain, but that's for three or four months later. Don't fret—when the time comes, I won't need your hand anymore. Let's part ways now. As a farewell token... here—I'll show you something."

The Master of the House turned his gaze to the Student Lodger’s right hand.
On that palm rested the Count’s head.

The automobile began to move without making a sound.
The Master of the House collapsed.

“He’s come to! He’s come to! He’s come to!”

Hearing a woman’s voice thick with anguished relief, the Master of the House opened his eyes. His wife was peering into his face.

“You’ve come round now, have you? How do you feel?”

The Master of the House couldn’t make sense of it. He opened his eyes fully and surveyed his surroundings. At his bedside sat two or three familiar neighbors—the Master of the Clog Shop from next door and the Master of the Sundries Shop among them.

“What on earth happened? I don’t get it at all.”

“So you’re feeling alright now?”

“I’m fine. What happened?”

“You went to open the front door, collapsed right there and passed out, so I had to get the neighbors to come and call a doctor—it was a huge uproar.”

The Master of the House then recalled—had that experience of going to the mansion with the student lodger been a dream?
When he thought this, he felt relieved.

"Oh... Oh... So I was having another strange, preposterous dream."

However, the Master of the House did not speak about that preposterous dream.

By midday of that day, news came that Count Kirishima had passed away.
The Master of the House of the tofu shop turned deathly pale upon hearing this.

When the new year began and spring arrived, Count Kirishima’s widow and the chauffeur died under mysterious circumstances on Kamakura’s coast.
The Master of the House of the tofu shop had gone mad from that time onward.