Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Diamond in the Pocket

Yoko had unusually woken up early, finished her morning makeup, stretched both legs out languidly on the veranda’s rattan chair, and kept glancing at her wristwatch while sipping cocoa. When the parlor clock struck nine, as if on cue, the entrance bell rang, and the student lodger announced that Sugimura, the jewelry merchant, had arrived. While presenting himself as a jewelry merchant, in reality he was a pawnbroker who moved covertly among society ladies. Since he also handled exchanges of rings and watches, he was considered indispensable. Maintaining an unfailingly smooth tone and scattering flattery, he slowly took rings out one by one from his briefcase to arrange them on the table while the maid went in and out delivering tea and sweets—but once her figure disappeared from view, he produced a different item he had kept in his inner pocket,

“It’s said to have been purchased in Paris—the cut is modern too—a piece of this caliber is exceedingly rare.” “How does this strike you?” “I consider 2,500 yen quite a bargain—”

It was a ring set with a pure white diamond that appeared to be over three carats. Yoko tried slipping it onto her waxwork-slender fingers and stared fixedly. I want this, she thought—want it! Yet unfortunately, she lacked sufficient jewels to exchange for this ring. If she were to insist on obtaining it, she would have no choice but to provide a substantial cash deposit. For a twenty-one-year-old bride married barely six months, procuring such funds posed considerable difficulty. She wanted it—ached for it unbearably—but since restraint was necessary, she instead resolved to borrow a marquise ring for her pinky, concluding the transaction by supplementing her ruby ring with a modest sum of money.

Sugimura was putting the ring into his briefcase while, “I hear there will be a grand ball for the American tourist group.” “You will be attending, I presume?”

“Yes, since the invitation has come, I plan to attend.” “For that purpose—everyone is going through such trouble.” “This is strictly between us, but—most of our premium items have already been reserved for the occasion.”

Even after Sugimura left, the three-carat diamond would not leave Yoko’s sight. Being Countess Umeda yet not possessing even one diamond of that caliber felt wretched to her; as she thought of finding some way to acquire it and gazed absently at the garden, hurried footsteps sounded on the veranda—her second elder brother from her maiden family, Haruki Hiramatsu, came to visit.

"Oh, Brother." When she saw her brother’s face, she was suddenly overcome with a childish urge to seek comfort and found herself tearing up for no particular reason. "I want that diamond," nearly escaped her lips, but Yoko suppressed the urge and bit down on her lip. She must not say it—if Haruki, who cared so deeply for his sister, were to learn just how desperately she wanted it, he would never stand idly by. No matter what reckless lengths he went to, he would surely bring her the diamond—but those very lengths were what terrified her.

“Brother, you’re going to the ball too, aren’t you? They say lots of Western ladies will be there—it must look simply splendid.” “With more than half being Americans, I bet the diamonds will be dancing around. Someone like you shouldn’t wear any jewels there. Put on a cheap ring and you’ll just look shabbier than ever.” As if her brother’s words hadn’t registered at all, Yoko sat absorbed in thought—then suddenly perked up and rose to her feet,

“I gave up thinking I couldn’t buy it anyway, but—Brother, I’m going to Mitsukoshi now.” “Since they accept end-of-month payments there—when the time comes, I’ll manage somehow.” What perfect timing for this realization! I’ll go to Mitsukoshi—and see that diamond. “It’s decided!”

“Idiot! I told you to stop—a paltry little diamond like that would look downright disgraceful on you—”

“So—I’ll buy a big one,” she declared, bouncing into the dressing room, patting her face with the powder puff, slipping into her coat as she floated out buoyantly.

Haruki forced a wry smile and lit a cigarette, "Well then, maybe I’ll come along too."

The two of them left together.

In front of Mitsukoshi, Yoko parted from her brother and entered the elevator with brisk steps. She was no longer thinking of anything but the diamond.

Exiting the elevator, she headed straight for the jewelry department without glancing around. When she peered into the show window, there was a large diamond that caught her eye. In the center, surrounded by many rings, it was shining like a queen. It was far more splendid than anything Sugimura had shown her. Immediately summoning a familiar clerk, she tapped the glass with her fingertips— “Excuse me, could you show me this ring?” she said.

The clerk handed Yoko the ring with its 5,800-yen price tag dangling casually and showed her five or six other pieces that might catch her fancy. She tried each one on her finger, utterly captivated, but ultimately found herself most taken with the first 5,800-yen ring that had caught her eye. I want it, I thought, and before I knew it, a sigh escaped me. What should I do about the money? If I can’t pay when the time comes—the thought made everything go dark before my eyes. But—it’ll work out somehow, never mind—I’ll buy it! Her face flushed as she stared fixedly at the diamond until her head went strangely fuzzy. Coming to her senses with a start, she began thinking again. What’s the point of doing something so reckless? There’s absolutely no way I can come up with that much money—if I act on this reckless idea, the end of the month will be disastrous—I suppose—there’s nothing to do but resign myself. She reluctantly removed the ring, placed it back in its box, and feebly attempted to return it—but found that the clerk who had been beside her was nowhere to be seen. When she looked around, there was a woman beside her who was similarly gazing intently at a ring. At first glance, Yoko thought she might be a foreigner—so perfectly did her Western attire suit her—with everything from her hat down to her shoes in pale gray. She was tall, slim, and had a pleasing figure. Yoko gazed intently. Perhaps because she had stared too intently, the woman slipped away in the opposite direction. Since the clerk had returned, Yoko handed over the ring,

“I’ll come back properly another time. There is one I like—well, it exists—but…” she said dejectedly as she left Mitsukoshi.

As she wandered Ginza, evening fell, so she hailed a taxi and returned home—but was so dejected that even removing her coat felt burdensome. The more she thought about it, the deeper her gloom sank. Ah, I want that diamond!

With a sigh, she accidentally let it slip out loud, then suddenly felt ashamed, blushed crimson, stood up, and grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket—clink! There was something on the floor. When she thought "Huh?" and looked down, a pale gleaming thing came tumbling down to rest by the wall in the corner of the room where lamplight caught it sharply—a needle of light stabbing her eyes.

It was a diamond! A diamond ring! The very 5,800-yen ring she had clearly handed back to the Mitsukoshi clerk. From her crown to her toes surged an electric jolt, leaving her body rigid and immobile. Why had that diamond been in her pocket? "I want it!" Could it have tumbled there through sheer force of will from that moment she'd so desperately convinced herself? She couldn't possibly believe such a thing—yet she'd once seen a psychic perform object attraction. If such feats were truly possible—or perhaps—

Yoko grew frightened.

Won’t Mitsukoshi contact me any minute now? Even if I didn’t consciously do it, couldn’t someone have seen me putting it in my pocket? What if they sue me? Maybe I should just go return it. ――That’s strange too. I might end up being suspected instead. Then—should I stay silent and keep up the pretense of ignorance—?

She wrapped the ring in Japanese paper, temporarily placed it deep in the back of a drawer within the chest where prying eyes wouldn’t reach, locked it, and stepped out onto the veranda intending to cool her fevered head. Should she confide in her husband and seek his counsel? But that too filled her with anxiety. Her fastidious husband might misinterpret things in any number of ways.

And there was another anguish that pierced Yoko’s heart. That could only mean one thing—her brother.

Haruki was handsome in appearance, excelled academically, and possessed considerable talent—yet for some reason, he had harbored a compulsion to steal since childhood. But here's how he would put it: The world was full of fools—nothing but idiots. They were so careless they practically begged to be robbed. They practically begged to be stolen from with their carelessness plastered all over their faces, yet they had the gall to pin theft habits on others—it was downright absurd. She understood that feeling all too well. Moreover, Haruki would steal things not with any intention of using them, but simply to secretly pilfer items that others cherished and kept close—this delighted him, for in that moment, he felt an indescribable thrill. It was solely to savor this feeling that he kept committing crimes, yet once the theft was done, he had no attachment to the stolen goods; he would look up the owners' addresses and send the items back. He thought no one would ever suspect that the second son of Viscount Hiramatsu was a thief; only his sister knew, he reckoned. However, that pleasant game should have ended cold turkey on the very day Yoko married into the Umeda family. But if kleptomania were hereditary—if it had taken root unnoticed somewhere in her heart—the thought filled her with such unbearable anguish that she felt stripped of both body and world.

Woman in Pale Gray

Yoko awoke from a dream of being summoned by the police. The gauze nightgown clung to her skin with sweat.

Her husband was up, reading the newspaper. Wondering if something had been written about it, she glanced up furtively to gauge his expression.

“You were muttering something in your sleep.” Startled, she turned her face away, composed herself, then casually—

“In the newspaper—might there be anything interesting printed?” she asked.

“Hmm. “There’s an article titled ‘The Street Demon of the Ministry of Railways’ about a gang of thieves being arrested—with a photo of Detective Yamanishi who caught them. This man actually came to my office the other day and spoke with me briefly, so I know him quite well,” he said, reading from the newspaper. He seemed particularly interested since he knew the detective, but Yoko felt an inexplicable unpleasant sensation. But thinking silence would be improper,

“What’s Detective Yamanishi like?” she asked as flattery. “He’s still young, but quite a capable man. “He’s considered the most handsome in the department, with a gentle, almost feminine face—though among thieves, they call him Oni Yamanishi.” “It’s so cruel to call someone as beautiful as that a demon.”

Wanting to put an end to this conversation, Yoko glanced at the bedside clock and, “Oh my! It’s already past eight,” she exclaimed in feigned surprise, springing up and hurrying out of the bedroom. In the large full-length mirror of the adjoining room, her face appeared deathly pale. Her head throbbed with pain. Once my husband goes out, I’ll go to my family home and consult Haruki. When it came to matters like this, he would understand better than anyone. He’d help me, and he’d surely offer some clever plan without fail.

She concealed her inner anguish and made every effort to appear spirited. After promptly seeing her husband off at the entrance, she immediately tried calling her family home, but her brother had not yet risen. She left a message saying she had urgent business and would come later, but when she tried to exit the telephone room, a maid was waiting before the door, “A lady has come to call, Madam—she earnestly requests the honor of an audience.” Yoko, without quite knowing why, gasped—

“What?” “A lady, you said?” “What is her name?” “She hasn’t given her name, but says she’s a friend from your school days—that you’d recognize her if you saw her—”

“What kind of person is she?” “She is a modern lady—tall, with large eyes, and quite beautiful. The pale gray Western dress suited her exquisitely—” As she listened, her knees began trembling violently. Woman in Pale Gray! Tall, big-eyed—that woman, no doubt. At Mitsukoshi’s jewelry department, that woman had been gazing at rings just like I had—but had she ever truly been a customer? In the clothing department area, you often came across such modern-looking people—so perhaps that woman had actually been one of the staff members all along. The more she thought about it, the more anxious she grew. Even Mitsukoshi couldn’t act recklessly toward someone of Countess Umeda’s standing—maybe they’d first sent a clerk to settle matters discreetly.

Without inquiring about the visitor’s business and forgetting even her husband’s usual admonition not to meet strangers, she had the unknown woman—who hadn’t even given her name—shown into the parlor.

“Just tea will do. “Don’t come until I ring the bell—understand?” she blurted out harshly before she could stop herself, her heart pounding as she swiftly opened the parlor door. Indeed— The Woman in Pale Gray smiled amiably and bowed once, “I must apologize for yesterday. “It was so sudden—you must have been quite startled, no?” she said with undue familiarity.

Yoko wanted her to state her business quickly, yet—

“No,” she said with a smile, then remained silent.

The woman struck a match and lit her cigarette with deft hands. Her heart raced with apprehension about what might come next as she watched the smoke drift, until finally the Woman in Pale Gray forcefully stubbed her cigarette into the ashtray. “The sudden matter I came to discuss—Madam—you must already understand?” With a meaningful look, she smirked. Yoko’s lips quivered as she lowered her eyes to her lap. “What do you mean? I... I don’t...” she answered in a faint voice.

“Oh my, you still don’t understand?” “What I entrusted to you yesterday—I’ve come to retrieve it.” “What?”

“Ohohoho!” “Are you playing dumb?” “Madam, how wicked of you.” “That diamond ring—I slipped it into your pocket—” She was so shocked one might have thought her breath had stopped. The diamond ring—had it been this woman’s all along?

“Ohohohoho!” “There’s no need to be so shocked.” “You know nothing at all.” “No—you’ve done nothing wrong at all, you know.” “I stole that diamond and merely took the liberty of borrowing Madam’s pocket.” “It’s something we comrades often do—but borrowing from an amateur like you—this is my first time.” “Please return it now.”

Yoko was momentarily dumbfounded, but upon realizing this woman was neither a Mitsukoshi clerk nor anything of the sort—but rather a female thief—she felt somewhat relieved. Once they knew who had stolen it, there could be no suspicion left hanging over me. If Mitsukoshi were to come asking questions, I could simply tell them about this woman.

She returned the ring and felt relieved. The Woman in Pale Gray looked delighted as she placed it on her palm and gazed at it, but— “Madam, it simply won’t do for you to be startled by someone like my meager skills.” “You’ll undoubtedly be attending tomorrow night’s ball, but I hear that tourist group includes a world-class master thief.” “I hear she’s an extraordinary beauty—anyone who sees her would think her nothing less than a noblewoman. Why, throughout the world, she’s revered like a queen among us thieves! Isn’t that simply splendid?” “I myself would at least like to catch a glimpse of her—”

All formality had vanished from her manner, her tone now as if addressing a fellow conspirator.

Despite having been so utterly convinced about the diamond, she found herself no longer wanting it at all now. After returning it, she instead felt unburdened—so much so that her heart had grown lighter.

As soon as the Woman in Pale Gray left, Yoko went to her family home, met Haruki, and recounted everything that had happened since the previous night,

“I handed over the diamond, but—do you think it’s all right? I keep worrying—what if they charge me as an accomplice—” “You’ll be fine as long as you’re not caught in the act. Of course, if you had a prior record, that’d be different—but anyway, she’s that caliber of woman; nothing to worry about. And hey—world-class one’s mixed in with the tourist group? That’s delightful. Think you could introduce me?” Haruki said, eyes gleaming.

World-Class Master

The grand welcoming ball for the tourist group was held in the grand hall of the Grand Hotel.

Haruki Hiramatsu, dressed in refined attire, hurried to the venue accompanied by his sister Yoko who was beautifully adorned. At the entrance, over a dozen gentlemen and ladies representing the hosts stood lined up in a row to receive guests. Yoko hesitated timidly for a moment but, glancing at her brother, spoke rapidly. “Everyone looks so magnificent—I feel utterly self-conscious—please take this necklace off me right away.”

Haruki gave a wry smile, "You're such an idiot. That's why I told you to stop wearing it." As he said this, he removed the ruby-and-pearl-studded necklace for her.

Yoko walked ahead of Haruki and passed before the line while greeting each person individually. When she reached about halfway through, she casually glanced at the next woman's face. She was so shocked that her legs froze. Wasn't this the Woman in Pale Gray she had met yesterday? Moreover, the diamond glittering brilliantly on her left finger—that was unmistakably familiar. Why was a thief standing there as one of the hosts? As Yoko stood frozen in utter bewilderment, the woman grasped her hand with apparent delight, smiled cheerfully, and said in an amiable tone, "My apologies about yesterday—how wonderful you could come this evening," before introducing her to the neighboring lady as Countess Umeda. Since Haruki had been behind his sister, he shook hands with and introduced himself to the Woman in Pale Gray whose name he didn't know.

When they passed through the line and entered the hall, Yoko, looking around her surroundings, brought her mouth close to her brother's ear.

“It’s terrible!” “Brother.” “That Woman in Pale Gray is a thief!”

“Wait—but she was standing in the hosts’ receiving line! It must be a case of mistaken identity—carelessly calling someone a thief could lead to real trouble.” “But—she apologized yesterday. It certainly isn’t a mistake.”

“If that’s really true—how delightful! I’m going to take another look at what sort of woman she is,” he declared, brushing off attempts to stop him as he turned back toward the entrance.

Yoko watched her brother’s retreating figure in exasperation but soon made her way to their group. Haruki’s chic appearance and smart social graces pleased the Westerners, making him particularly popular among the young women. Instantly, the program cards were filled with reservations. The suffocatingly strong perfume, the cloying scent of skin, the soft-looking nape, the creamy plump chest—none of these gave him any stimulation, but the allure of diamonds filled him with a terrifying temptation that sometimes made him lose all self-restraint. Haruki averted his eyes from the jewels and danced through the hall, repeatedly crossing paths with the Woman in Pale Gray. At first they exchanged silent bows, then smiles, until finally they grew so familiar as to signal each other with their eyes. Those eyes spoke volumes. Whenever their eyes happened to meet abruptly by chance, Haruki felt a chill run through his body. Were they Japanese? Western? Or perhaps those of a mixed-blood child? Whatever their origin, they were eyes possessed of a mysterious allure.

It was said that a world-class master thief was among them, yet all appeared upstanding with not a single suspicious individual in sight. Nevertheless, Haruki—determined to somehow uncover the truth—kept his gaze sharply focused on each successive woman he danced with. As midnight struck, a drum resounded through the hall to announce dinner. No sooner had dessert forks been set down than the music recommenced. Though muttering "How rushed!" under their breath, everyone appeared thoroughly amused as they tossed napkins onto tables and hastened back to the ballroom. Fortified by champagne and steadying his unsteady legs, Haruki first danced with the Woman in Pale Gray; moments later he took the hand of a silver-haired matron whose corpulent frame declared her wealth—this woman wore a gaudy necklace ill-suited to her years, its massive diamond pendant dangling brazenly from her décolletage to glitter ostentatiously for all eyes.

Aided by alcohol's intoxication, he—now thoroughly emboldened—pretended to dance absorbed while using the hand he'd slipped behind her back to unhook the thin chain digging into her neck. Before he knew it, the necklace had slid smoothly into his pocket. Because the silver-haired noblewoman was dancing in high spirits, she hadn't noticed it at all. After several dances had passed, she suddenly realized the diamond on her chest was gone and began causing a commotion.

Suddenly, the hall buzzed with commotion, and the manager—his face pale with bewilderment—escorted the silver-haired noblewoman to a separate room.

What was happening? they asked and answered one after another, and the rumors spread instantly. As if they had agreed among themselves, the noblewomen checked again whether their own jewels had been stolen.

“She was quite drunk from the champagne.”

said one of them. “Perhaps she dropped it somewhere?” “No. It was stolen, you know. That lady’s an American millionaire, I hear.”

The ball had completely lost its spark.

Necklace

While the uproar over the missing necklace was unfolding, Haruki Hiramatsu was merrily drinking in the basement bar. He was somehow unbearably happy. He would grab waiters to joke around with and pour them drinks, but once they were gone, he suddenly looked lonely, sitting listlessly as he began sipping his drink in small, slow draughts. Then, light footsteps sounded from behind, and the Woman in Pale Gray slipped into the room.

“Give me a rum!” she declared, surveying the booths as if weighing where to sit—but when her eyes abruptly found his face, she flashed a sly grin and scurried over to him. Haruki hastily scooted aside to make room.

“Are you here all alone?” “I had absolutely no idea when you slipped out of the hall.” “Even though you went and made a promise to drink together, how cruel of you to leave me behind like this!” “I’m exhausted—I planned to rest a bit before heading back.” “Have a drink to perk yourself up—well, how about it?” “Won’t you dance with me again?”

The woman looked startled,

“My, you don’t know anything? The ball has already come to an end, you know. It seems there was a bad fellow who stole the silver-haired lady’s necklace. The hall is in an uproar over it right now.” Haruki snorted,

“Who did it, I wonder? I wonder if they haven’t slipped it into some pocket or another?” “Ohohoho! Your sister has already told everything—how dreadful!” The woman laughed while glaring with her large eyes. He grew slightly serious. “But—” “That story seems fishy.” “I heard from my sister and called Mitsukoshi right away to check—they said not one diamond was missing.” “There’s nothing odd about that.” “I wouldn’t touch Mitsukoshi’s diamonds.” “That was my fake.” “I used it.”

“You’re quite thorough.” “But even if you have me return a fake, there’s no profit in that.” “In that case, I had a different purpose—it was perfectly acceptable not to make any profit.” “What purpose?” “Because I wanted to meet you.” “I thought I could have you introduce me to your sister—that’s why I went through all that trouble and even scripted this charade.” Haruki felt slightly irritated, but even so, he didn’t feel bad.

“Tonight I came lured by your story—but I can’t tell which of them are supposed to be these ‘international thieves.’” “I’m disappointed.”

“Oh my!” “You take such an interest in strange things.” “World-famous masters are mostly predictable.” “From my perspective—” she began, rising slightly, but her shoe slipped unexpectedly, nearly pitching her forward. He crouched and steadied her shoulder. She righted herself, blushing fiercely,

“This—I’ve taken it,” she declared, placing something cold and gritty onto his palm. “The Diamond Necklace!” she announced with emphasis. Haruki’s heart jumped. He stared at it fixedly. The Woman in Pale Gray had proudly held up the slender chain when she let out a soft, muted cry. It was unmistakably a necklace—but not diamond, rather a cheap piece studded with rubies and pearls that looked nothing like the silver-haired lady’s. Haruki flushed crimson, snatched it away, and shoved it into his own pocket,

“Cheeky bastard! But this isn’t mine.” “Then whose is it?”

“It’s my sister’s. That Yoko—I told her again and again to stop, but she wouldn’t listen and came here with this cheap thing hanging around her neck. When we reached the hall entrance, she got embarrassed, took it off, and made me keep it.”

She wore a look of disappointment as she smiled bitterly. "But you’ve got quite the skill yourself," he remarked with genuine admiration, then suddenly clicked his tongue and, "But—damn it all! I’ve never been bested by anyone before—" "There’s no helping that." "It’s because you’re up against me, you see." "What did you say?" "If you go up against a world-class master thief, even Young Master Hiramatsu wouldn’t stand a chance!"

“Hmm, so it was you after all.” “I’d had my suspicions all along.” “But this business about some master thief joining the tour group—seems you’re making waves.” “Keep underestimating the police like this and they’ll haul you in.”

“Don’t you worry~” “Even with the police scrambling to catch me, here I am—cool as you please—swaggering through Tokyo’s heart and dancing the night away~” “Just like my beloved snakes—try to grab them and they’ll slip right through your fingers~” “Their net’s weave is simply too loose for someone like me~” He stood speechless, overwhelmed. The woman abruptly softened her tone,

“Even a world-trotting scoundrel like me isn’t immune to longing for her hometown.” “That’s why I secretly slipped into the tour group.” “This return to Japan wasn’t solely for business—I came thinking I’d see my mother and sisters, even if from afar.” “Because I can’t meet them openly—isn’t that pitiful?” “My father is a very strict man—if he saw me, he’d apprehend me without mercy and haul me off to the police.” “Since I lack the courage to break free from my parents, I gave up meeting them entirely—content to watch their figures from afar, sometimes rejoicing, sometimes grieving,” she said, her voice tinged with dejection. As Haruki listened, pity for this woman welled within him—yet when he reconsidered, irritation flared; *This is the thief who stole from me*, he thought, hatred surging unbearably. Precisely because he’d believed himself unmatched by any other, he now tasted profound humiliation.

“I’m thoroughly impressed by your skills.” “You truly live up to being called a world-class master—it’s genuinely remarkable.” “But don’t think you can underestimate me.” “I’ve got no boss, no partners.” “Never had anyone teach me—” “Well, naturally.” “Among my associates, there isn’t a soul who hasn’t heard of Young Master Hiramatsu.” “Can’t say I know your exact caliber, but I do know you’re no amateur.” “Still—you’ve never seen the real deal, have you?”

“Then I’ll show you!” “Ohohoho! If you get so full of yourself, you’ll end up failing. Since we can’t have you suffering disgrace, let’s save this demonstration for another time—you can show me properly then.”

“Don’t say that! By all means, I want you to see this!”

Grabbing the woman’s wrist, he stood up.

Caught in the act.

“Well, anywhere nearby will do.” Haruki led the reluctant-looking woman along. Just then, the hotel entrance was in chaos as ball guests departed. He pushed through the crowd with an excited expression, scanning for targets.

He saw a noblewoman in an evening gown desperately stretching upward as she scanned for her automobile with searching eyes. Haruki approached her from behind and, with a slight bump against her back, removed the diamond pin with speed imperceptible to the eye—clutching it tightly as he thrust that hand into his coat pocket. At that precise instant, his deft wrist was seized in an iron grip. To his ear—as he gasped and whirled around—came a gravelly voice thick with terrifying authority:

“Thinking of your honor—I’ll handle this discreetly for now—” That was an insufferably arrogant way of speaking. Moreover, wasn’t the owner of that voice none other than the Woman in Pale Gray? Haruki panicked. “Behave yourself!”

A chill raced down his spine. The woman glared intensely and declared sharply.

“Caught in the act!”

“Huh?!” He felt as though his head had been struck by a single thudding blow from a gennou hammer. He staggered and stared fixedly at the woman’s face from straight on.

The Woman in Pale Gray shed her skillful disguise.

“Ah! Demon Yamanishi!”

The cross-dressed person—that was Detective Yamanishi, the most feared among the thief community.