Pathway to Japanese Literature

I "Well now, this should be a separate bill!... With all these girls here, I'm shocked none have come over. At least settle the account for me!"

The old gentleman seemed to be in a very good mood. In front of Chinchintei’s stand, monopolizing the most conspicuous spot possible, an old gentleman was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Why, that will be 185 yen, please.”

As for handling such matters—a seventeen or eighteen-year-old waitress— “185 yen? “That’s cheap—surely you don’t mean 850 yen by mistake, do you?” He thrust his amiable face—framed by a salt-and-pepper goatee curled upward—right before the waitress’s nose. “I haven’t made any mistake—it’s 185 yen!” Deeming the situation troublesome, he grabbed a handful of gold, silver, and copper coins from his pocket and scattered them with a clatter before the waitress who was haranguing him in a confrontational tone— “Here—take however much you like from this.”

“Ah!” The waitress’s shock was understandable—the handful of gold, silver, and copper coins he’d produced consisted entirely of antiquated currency: koban oval coins, nibu-kin gold pieces, isshu-gin silver coins, Tenpō coins, Bunkyū coins, komahiki-sen horse-pull coins, even Eiraku-sen treasure coins. Without needing to sift through them, it was clear not a single modern coin lay among the lot. “Oh, you mustn’t joke like that! They’re all old coins, aren’t they?” Perhaps sensing her opponent was somewhat naive, the young miss refused to back down.

“Well this won’t do, will it? The trouble is I’ve no cash today—though mind you, saying ‘no cash’ doesn’t mean I’m skipping out on the bill! See here? I’m no pilgrim Otsuru, but I’ve koban aplenty…”

“You mustn’t joke like this! Even without joking, we sometimes get stuck with Western silver coins or Chinese silver coins and get scolded by the cashier.” “If I accepted koban or such, who knows what would happen!” “My apologies—it was truly my fault.” “But hear me out—this is how it came to be.” “Collecting old coins is my hobby, you see. When I left home, I should’ve had plenty of cash on me, but I got sidetracked buying coins at two or three places along the way—and ended up like this.” “In my purse here, there’s not a single post-Meiji coin left—ha ha ha! Surprised, are you?”

He tossed the empty purse onto the pile of old coins on the table and burst into a rattling laugh.

Around 1 PM—the busiest hour at Chinchintei—this little farce instantly became the center of attention for the entire café. First off, the appearance of this coin collector—the comedy’s protagonist—was rather unusual. Though not entirely bald even on the left side of his head, he appeared to be in his mid-fifties, sporting a goatee and clad in a baggy suit—the finest fabric tailored in the most unflattering manner—with a necktie as large as a wrapping cloth and a grease-stained sailor’s pipe clenched between his teeth.

With this appearance so divorced from modern sensibilities, when he tossed koban and Tenpō coins onto the table, all the customers in the café burst into cheers of delight. Even in Ginza, such an eccentric sight was rarely witnessed. “Ladies and gentlemen, you mustn’t laugh! I am Minami Ichitaro—secretary of the Old Coin Research Society, also known by my artistic name Old Man Aisendō. When I return home, I’ve enough gold to feed a horse! If you doubt me, check the credit registry! Though I may look like this, I’m a millionaire! … What’s 185 yen to me?!”

The old man—it was impossible to tell how far this would escalate.

At that moment,

“Pardon me—this is terribly rude of me, but…”

The distinguished middle-aged gentleman who had been drinking tea at the neighboring table interjected, seemingly unable to bear watching any longer. “Wh-what is this about?” The old man turned his unperturbed face in that direction.

“This is terribly rude of me, but might I be permitted to settle your bill instead?” “Th-that won’t do! You’re a complete stranger! Minami Ichitaro does not yet accept charity from others!”

“Not at all—it is simply that you may repay me whenever convenient.” “Ah, I see—you grasp matters well! Very well—185 yen it is. I shall gratefully borrow the sum. As collateral, one Tenpō coin, one Eiraku coin, and…” “No need for that. If you are indeed the secretary of the Old Coin Research Society, I happen to have some items requiring appraisal. Might I trouble you to accompany me to my residence?”

This was a middle-aged gentleman who stood in stark contrast to Old Man Minami—wearing a morning coat of coarse fabric yet unrivaled in its tailoring that clung perfectly to his frame, carrying a red leather bag, and exuding an air of one whose pockets never lacked money nor whose eyes ever lost their faint smile.

2

As the train rocked, the middle-aged gentleman spoke to elderly Minami Ichitaro.

“...That being the case, there remains a modest collection of old coins my master left in my possession.” “I’m aware certain coins fetch thousands—even tens of thousands—of yen per piece in trade, but being wholly unversed in such matters, I’ve no inkling which might hold such worth.” “Rather than rashly consigning them to some dealer’s mercies—though I mean no disrespect in saying so—I conceived that having an authority of your renown appraise them, then purchasing any valuable specimens at equitable rates... While this arrangement naturally serves my interests, I fancied it might likewise prove mutually advantageous...”

“I see, I quite understand. Such offers often lead to unexpected windfalls—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for collectors like us…”

The train, carrying the two of them, raced through an old suburban town. "By the way, what exactly was your master's name?" As if suddenly remembering, Old Man Minami asked. "Haruyama Noboru... was his name." "Oh! That wealthy Mr. Haruyama—I knew him well indeed! As a numismatist, he's Japan's foremost authority. My, how fortunate you were to have such an eminent master! So tell me—what exactly was your position in Mr. Haruyama's household?"

“I served as both steward and secretary, handling all affairs. As you can see, he was not one to concern himself with trivial matters.” “Ah yes, Mr. Haruyama was as magnanimous as a daimyo… By the way, is it not true that this same Mr. Haruyama has been missing these many months?” “Yes, precisely—such is the situation that even lowly persons such as myself find ourselves deeply troubled…”

He lowered his solemn face and dropped his words gloomily. Though a mere employee, he was the butler of a millionaire—his demeanor and bearing were truly befitting such a station.

“By the way, how about Mr. Haruyama’s heirs?” “That’s the difficulty. Mr. Haruyama lived his entire life single, with old coins as his companions—he has no wife, children, or siblings whatsoever. There are two distant relatives—one being a young man residing with his mother, and the other a young lady with her father—who have lived here since my master’s lifetime. However, as both share an equally remote familial connection, there is no legal basis to designate either as the rightful heir. Moreover, it has only been eight months since my master’s disappearance; finalizing inheritance procedures by confirming his legal status as missing still requires some time. Within this period, I alone am anxious to either verify his survival or, failing that, at least discover a will.”

“I see—that is indeed a worrisome matter. The police must have been involved, yet whether he lives or dies remains shrouded in mystery—most peculiar.” “Given his standing, the police spared no effort in their search, yet uncovered not a single clue.” “As you’ll recall from the newspapers of that time—eight months past, around ten o’clock one evening—he was seen entering his study bedroom escorted by Miss Yōko, a young relative residing at the mansion. Yet come morning, when Kōichirō—that young man dwelling there too, locked in silent struggle with Miss Yōko’s family—came knocking on the master’s chamber regarding some business, he found it half-vacant, the master vanished like smoke.” “Then ensued great tumult. They summoned police aid, engaged every celebrated private investigator, combed through every blade of grass—yet all they ascertained was this: that the master had apparently wandered out in nightclothes and slippers, and that the entryway stood open. Beyond these facts—nothing.”

“Hmm… I do believe I’ve read about that in the newspapers somewhere. And then…” “For a time, suspicion fell upon Miss Yōko and her father as well as Kōichirō and his mother due to the inheritance dispute. Though they contest the succession rights, both parties are upstanding individuals who would never harm others. The suspicions were soon lifted, and now we have no choice but to wait for the truth to reveal itself naturally.”

“I see, I see—that must be quite troubling. Now then, what might your name be?”

“Ah—my apologies for the delay. I am Sakyō Michinosuke, butler of the Haruyama household.”

At this moment, the train suddenly slowed down and entered the station.

When they got off the train, they passed through two or three suburban side streets and quietly entered a magnificent large iron gate within a certain forest.

3

Upon passing through the gate, plantings flanked both sides, and a short walk between them led to a Western-style grand entrance. As they proceeded straight ahead, two figures emerged abruptly from the plantings on either side—as if startled and flung backward—coming to stand flanking the entrance: a beautiful young woman on the right, and a well-built young man who appeared to be an athlete on the left. The eyes of the two youths clashed like fire.

“That is the very pair embroiled in the inheritance dispute. “On the right is Miss Yōko, on the left is Kōichirō…”

Into Old Man Minami’s ear, Sakyō Michinosuke whispered thus. “Yōko! What are you doing? You shouldn’t be looking at that thieving tomcat of a man!” The stony-faced, half-grayed old man—Yōko’s father—suddenly thrust his face out from the bushes, glared at Kōichirō, and made to seize Yōko’s hand to drag her back into the shrubbery. “What do you mean, ‘thieving tomcat’? Who exactly are you talking about?” The young man involuntarily flushed and gripped the riding crop in his hand. He stood clad in riding boots and gallant equestrian attire, slightly sweaty, as though he had just returned from a long ride.

“Kōichirō, now, now.” Sakyō Michinosuke, who had alighted after Old Man Minami, took hold of the young man’s arm as if seizing him, “You mustn’t lose your temper over this recurring matter. After all, with the other party being an elderly gentleman and a young lady, it can hardly escalate into a proper quarrel.”

“I understand that, but that old man says such rude things.” “Now, now—such matters can be resolved among ourselves.” “Today I’ve brought along a most peculiar guest. Allow me to make the introductions.” “This is Kōichirō, and this is Old Man Minami.” “How do you do?” “A pleasure.” “Anyway, please come inside. Let me have some tea prepared for you.”

The three entered Sakyō Michinosuke’s butler’s room located behind the study. Though called the butler’s room, as one would expect of a mansion belonging to a renowned millionaire, its opulence surpassed what ordinary wealthy masters could ever hope to match.

The building formed a U-shape with a reinforced concrete fortress-style design. The front—the base of the U—housed the study, where the missing master Haruyama Noboru had used the entire front section and rear second floor. The right wing was rented by Yōko and her father, the left wing by Kōichirō and his mother. Though sharing the same connected structure, they lived like sworn enemies—a relationship archaically phrased as “Wu and Yue,” but bluntly put, as bitter rivals. “Shall I show you the old coins at once?”

When Sakyō Michinosuke offered a chair and spoke, Old Man Minami,

“Yes, please.”

He leaned forward with the eagerness of one who’d snatch coins from thin air.

“My uncle was Japan’s—no, the world’s—most renowned numismatist, so he should have possessed an extraordinary number of rare and valuable items. Yet after his passing, not a single decent coin remains. It’s truly baffling.” While Kōichirō was telling Old Man Minami such things, Sakyō brought in two or three hundred old coins arranged in a glass case.

“I doubt there’s anything noteworthy here, but please do take a look.” “Hmm, indeed—there appear to be some serviceable pieces here. Should you desire them, you may take the lot... How does fifteen hundred yen strike you? If unsatisfactory, I might stretch to another two or three hundred.” “What?! This collection merits *such* value?!”

Even the dignified Sakyō Michinosuke seemed slightly flustered, his usual composure slipping. “Don’t you have a bit more?” “It is not entirely out of the question.”

“I’ll examine them properly later. By the way, while collecting old coins is one hobby of mine, I have another rather peculiar pastime.” “What manner of peculiar pastime might that be?” “To put it bluntly—it’s this season’s raging detective mania.”

“Huh?” “I’m a detective, you see. Just like Sherlock Holmes, it’s a wonder how I can unravel great mysteries that even the police can’t solve—quite remarkable, you see.” “Hmm…” “What’s this? That doubtful look won’t do. If you question my detective skills, just as Sherlock Holmes could discern an owner’s traits from a mere hat or watch, I’ll demonstrate by deducing your entire background!”

“Mine?” “Exactly so—your background… You’re supposed to have only a mother, you see. Then, you’re quite fond of horses, you see. And then…” “Enough already—if you’re wearing riding clothes, it’s obvious you like horses. As for having only a mother, you probably heard that from Mr. Sakyō anyway.” “Impressive! You’re an even greater detective than I am, Kōichirō! Ha ha ha ha!” “Ha ha ha ha!” Truly, with such an extraordinary self-proclaimed detective in their midst, even Sakyō Michinosuke couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

IV

Before long, the three of them made their way together to Kōichirō’s residence.

Within the over a dozen rooms of this mansion’s left wing, four or five had been allotted, and Kōichirō and his mother were living there. “This gentleman is the detective?”

Having been introduced by Butler Sakyō and her son Kōichirō, the mother—who had paused her knitting—gazed at Old Man Minami’s face through her reading glasses. “This person is that detec—” Nearly bursting into laughter, the old woman busily moved her knitting needles. A goatee, an ill-fitting Western suit, a tie as large as a wrapping cloth, short trousers revealing blue socks—upon seeing this exquisitely absurd appearance that must have required Herculean effort to assemble into such a preposterous ensemble, the old woman fastidious about attire found herself utterly at a loss to manage the hilarity welling up from the depths of her belly.

“There is nothing I cannot uncover through investigation.”

Old Man Minami was not one to be fazed by such matters; using the magnifying glass he had borrowed from Kōichirō, he crawled on all fours from room to room, inspecting every nook and cranny. “Mr. Minami, the master’s disappearance happened a full eight months ago. Do you really think any traces would remain in such a place by now?” “At the time, the police had come and meticulously examined every inch of it. Since then, this room has been cleaned two hundred forty or fifty times.”

Cautioned by Butler Sakyō,

“Oh... I see.” He straightened up, now belatedly impressed. However, Aisendō Rōjin—also known as the amateur detective Minami Ichitaro—was not one to be deterred by such matters. For a while, he tapped walls, stepped on floorboards, turned on lights, and peered behind picture frames, until suddenly— “By the way, how is Mr. Haruyama’s inheritance faring?”

“That’s what’s strange.” Sakyō Michinosuke answered in a manner that suggested he had been waiting for this. “The real estate remains unchanged, but we simply cannot determine where the vast quantities of jewels, cash, securities, and other assets—along with a tremendous number of old coins—are hidden.” “According to my estimation, I believe that would amount to a value ranging from three million to five million yen.” “My, that is astonishing!”

“As for this mansion’s interior, experts spent half a year meticulously studying it, and banks along with all business associates thoroughly investigated, but we simply couldn’t determine its whereabouts.” “Outside—weren’t there any items left behind or stored away?”

“There is nothing.”

Kōichirō, who had been silently listening until now, interrupted the two men’s conversation,

“There is—just one thing: that old coin and key.” “What is that?” When Old Man Minami pressed the matter, Butler Sakyō interjected, “Allow me to explain—though this is a rather trivial matter… Shortly before the master went missing, he summoned Kōichirō, myself, and Miss Yōko, and handed us a small box with the instruction: ‘Should anything happen to me, open this…’” “After he went missing, about a month later, we remembered this matter and took out the entrusted small box from the safe. When we opened it in the presence of all three of us, only two mysterious items emerged from within.” “One was an ancient Chinese copper coin labeled ‘For Miss Yōko,’ its handle end formed into a ring, the tip slightly flared like a sword blade and extending about four sun [~5 inches] before tapering to a squared-off edge. The other was a charming silver key inscribed ‘For Mr. Kōichirō.’” “However, we have absolutely no idea where to use those old coins and key or how they could be of any help.”

“Hmph, interesting. Mr. Kōichirō, could you lend me that key for a moment?” Kōichirō glanced between his mother’s and Sakyō’s faces, and seeing no particular sign of opposition, detached the small silver key from his watch chain and placed it upon Old Man Minami’s palm. “And now, I believe we shall go call on Miss Yōko and her father across the way.” “Kōichirō!” The mother, startled, called out to stop her son who was trying to follow Old Man Minami and Sakyō.

“You mustn’t go there!”

“……”

“If you go to the side of such villains, nothing good will come of it—you must stop.” She removed her glasses and gently placed them atop her knitting, but across her face flashed an anger difficult to unravel.

Five Not long after that, Old Man Minami and Sakyō Michinosuke went to visit Yōko and her father’s room in the right wing of the building. “Who is this person, Mr. Sakyō?” “He is both a researcher of old coins and a detective—a gentleman referred to as Mr. Minami.” “What’s this ‘detective’? What business brings you here?” “He wishes to investigate the master’s disappearance.” “What? If that’s all it is, you should’ve given up right away. Countless famous detectives spared neither time nor money researching what they couldn’t solve—no offense—but there’s no way you could understand it.”

“Hmm.”

Old Detective Minami Aisendō Rōjin also seemed about to be swept away outright. “Go away! Go away!”

“The other party showed us everything without reservation, yet you on this side refuse to show anything—this is most disagreeable.” “What preposterous things are you saying? If there’s anything suspicious to see, then see it you shall! Let you look to your heart’s content—every nook and cranny! That thieving cat from the other party must’ve planted something extra, no doubt.”

When he rang the bell, the daughter came out. “This gentleman is a detective, I tell you—it’s rude to laugh… Though truth be told, expecting a young lady not to chuckle at such a spectacle might be asking too much… Heh.”

The daughter too could no longer contain herself and hid her face behind a handkerchief. Old Man Minami, without concerning himself with such details, patiently repeated similar statements—that it had been in Kōichirō and his mother’s room—and bent his head in a scholarly manner, but— “I would like to see the Chinese old coin said to have been left by Mr. Haruyama.” At this request, the daughter silently withdrew to her room and brought back a slightly worn bronze sword-shaped old coin. Watching her father’s nodding face, she handed it to Old Man Minami.

“I would like to borrow this for a day.” “If I refused, you’d drag out that thieving cat from the other side. Not that I trust you—but I’ll be damned if we’re seen as more secretive than them. Take it wherever you like.”

“That’s most kind.”

Old Man Minami nonchalantly slid it into his pocket. But he turned around, “Ah, this is truly beautiful.” With hands clasped behind his back in a pose of examining a hanging scroll in the alcove—just when one might wonder what he was looking at—he gazed intently at the face of the daughter, Yōko.

Bathed in the evening sun streaming through the window, the beauty of the maiden's face—radiant against her wisteria-hued dress—was such that even one other than Old Man Minami would have been captivated. Dreaming eyes, mist-veiled brows, a nose as if chiseled from ivory, lips like ruby-toned jade—the charm and freshness emblematic of a modern girl radiated from this maiden’s visage. “Oh...”

The daughter, startled, fled.

“Ha ha ha ha! No offense meant, I assure you. Now then, Mr. Sakyō—I trust it would pose no inconvenience for me to impose upon you here tonight.” “Oh, nothing—a long chair or even a bed would suffice. I’d like to leisurely examine those old coins in your possession through the night and solidify my own detective methodology… My residence?” “That’s no trouble—I’m quite accustomed to such arrangements. A telephone briefly borrowed would serve perfectly well.”

The reluctant face of Butler Sakyō, the bitter face of Yōko’s father—such things did not even enter the old detective’s eyes.

Six

At five minutes before noon the following day, Yōko—her eyes fixed on the clock’s hands—addressed her father thus.

“Father, five minutes left.”

“So, you’re actually going to try it?” “Er, er.” “Do you really think you can trust what that strange detective says?” “Although his manner is a bit odd, there’s something strangely compelling about him. I can’t help feeling it’s best to do as he says and at least give it a try.” “Hmm.” “Now, three minutes left.” “What should I do with this old coin?” “After moving the piano aside, you’ll find a small metal plate affixed to the wall. In the center of that plate is a groove large enough to fit the looped end of the old coin. Insert the coin’s head into it and turn it twice to the right—that’s what he said.”

“Like this?” “Not yet, Father—you mustn’t turn it. One more minute.” “Is it all right?”

“Alright.” Though still uneasy, urged by his daughter’s resolve, the father inserted the old coin’s head into the groove of the brass plate and turned it once, twice—whereupon the section between the pillars, which they had always taken for a solid wall, slid smoothly inward, revealing a pitch-dark passage yawning open before them.

“Father, let’s go.”

“Yōko, wait.” “I must do this—no, I feel I must do this. From the moment that foolish detective called me early this morning and told me to proceed thus, I had already resolved myself entirely.”

Encouraged by his daughter’s resolve, her father promptly followed after her. The path—so narrow one had to turn sideways—continued for three or four ken; beyond it, an alarmingly steep staircase yawned open beneath their feet, seemingly descending all the way to the abyss’s depths. “Is it all right?” “These are steep ladder-like stairs; do be careful.” Father and daughter, by the light of their flashlights, descended some thirty of those steps and now emerged into a slightly wider corridor. Even calling it wide would be generous—at most about three shaku—and it remained that same terrifying darkness, so pitch-black that pinching your own nose wouldn’t help you see it.

After traveling twenty to thirty *ken* (approximately 36 to 54 meters) down that corridor, they entered a slightly larger dark room. The damp, unpleasant air assaulted their nostrils—so oppressive it seemed on the verge of suffocating them. The dark room measured about five *tsubo* (approximately 16.5 square meters), with small entrances on both sides. Its four walls were stacked with bricks, the floor entirely concrete—constructed more sturdily and ominously than a prison. Yet strangely, at the room's center lay an iron plate six *shaku* square (roughly 1.8 meters per side), upon which was affixed a silver basin about one *shaku* (30 centimeters) across. Bathed in their flashlights' beams, it gleamed brilliantly.

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings—from the precisely opposite entrance came a swift flash of light and unmistakable human voices— “Mother, are you all right?” “How dreadful! What a terrifying path this is! Can we really trust what that peculiar detective says?” “Well, I don’t know either—but somehow, that detective appears to see through everything. We had no choice but to follow his instructions exactly.”

It was unmistakably Kōichirō and his mother. Realizing this, the expressions of Yōko and her father turned cold as the iron plate lying beneath their feet. As their flashlights illuminated each other from both sides and the four adversaries realized they had converged in this strange dark world—*(Had that bumbling detective tricked them?)*—this thought flashed simultaneously through all four of their minds.

However, events developed so rapidly that they had no time to dwell on it further. Before long, from the path down which Kōichirō and his mother had descended came a sudden whiff of cigar smoke heralding its approach—the aroma of a fine cigar in that cold, moldering underground chamber. What an incongruous combination that was! “Would you kindly refrain from smoking?”

It was the voice of Old Man Minami. “No, you must allow me this one indulgence—the air here is damp, foul, and utterly unbearable.”

It was the voice of Butler Sakyō Michinosuke. “Ah! You’ve all gathered now! I thank you for believing my words and venturing out to such an eerie place.”

Illuminated by three flashlights, Old Man Minami with the goatee began speaking.

“First, please lend me Miss Yōko’s old coin. Place this on the silver basin…” On the silver basin was indeed a sword-shaped indentation about four inches long—the same length as the old coin. When the bronze coin was fitted snugly into it and given a firm twist to the right, the basin detached with a pop, revealing a small keyhole in its place. “Now I’ll borrow Kōichirō’s key… Behold… Mr. Haruyama Noboru did not wish for these two heirs to quarrel—you understand, don’t you? Without both this key and coin being combined, one couldn’t open the secret vault... Mr. Haruyama left this old coin and key divided between Kōichirō and Miss Yōko so they might share the inheritance amicably.”

He inserted the key into a small hole in the iron plate and twisted it once—immediately, the large iron plate slid smoothly sideways and vanished, leaving behind a gaping square hole one ken across (approximately 1.8 meters) that yawned open like a monstrous maw. “Now now—no need for alarm.”

When Old Man Minami directed his flashlight inside, there lay—contrary to expectations of gold, silver, and jewels—a human corpse lying face down and a single pitch-black barrel.

“Ah!” Neither in surprise nor fear, Yōko and Kōichirō’s mother raised their voices. “Please look closely—this is the corpse of Mr. Haruyama Noboru, the missing master of this house. Due to the air, humidity, and other factors, the remains have not decayed but have instead turned entirely into adipocere. However, observe closely: there is a terrible contusion on the head—clear proof that he was murdered.” “What?!” “Huh?” “Do not be alarmed—the culprit who murdered Mr. Haruyama and threw him here has stolen all that was stored here: old coins, jewels, gold and silver, securities—amounting to roughly five million yen.”

“What?!” “Huh?” In the underground darkness—taut as a drawn bowstring with terror and astonishment—Old Man Minami, whose skill none had imagined to exist here, delivered an unequivocal verdict, his voice even rejuvenated.

Seven

“Who is the culprit?” “I know perfectly well—critical evidence had been left beside the corpse.”

“Who is it?”

“The culprit is here.”

“What?!” “That.” The one he pointed at was Sakyō Michinosuke, the butler who had been regarded as the epitome of integrity—now, having already sensed the shift in circumstances, he fixed a sharp glare at Old Man Minami while poised to flee. “What?! You meddlesome old fool—who the hell are you?!” “Would you like to know?” “Hmm, surely it couldn’t be some obscure numismatist like Old Man Minami—a nobody from who-knows-where—who saw through such an elaborately devised mechanism?” “Exactly.” “Who the hell are you?”

“Hanabusa Ichirō.”

“Ah!”

It wasn’t only Sakyō Michinosuke who was shocked. No one could have possibly suspected that Hanabusa Ichirō, the famed detective, had disguised himself as an elderly numismatist to infiltrate. “Now, Sakyō—what’s this skulking about? Trying to flee’s useless! This mansion’s exits are sealed tight—not even a crack for an ant to crawl through. If you’re a villain, act like one—surrender meekly!” “Hmph! Sakyō Michinosuke still won’t surrender!” “There, there—bask in your arrogance while you can. …As for how I knew—when I learned that the butler of the missing Mr. Haruyama visited Chinchintei every day without fail at tea time, I scattered old coins across the table and put on a little act.” “Since it’s been eight months since you killed the master, you were just about to try converting those hidden old coins into cash—so you fell right into my trap, didn’t you?”

“Hmm.”

Sakyō Michinosuke gnashed his teeth, then darted back in a flash. "Now listen, all of you! That barrel beside the corpse holds over a hundred pounds of gunpowder." "This was precisely why I prepared it eight months ago - now the final trump card rests in my hands!" "Stay back! This cigar serves a purpose! Throw it into the barrel, and this mansion becomes dust! Detective, girl - we'll all perish together! Now!"

As he raised the lit cigar,

“Aaaah!”

The four men and women desperately tried to flee, but given that the basement was already narrow from the start, there was no way they could be caught now, no matter how much commotion they made. “Hah! Drop dead!” The cigar flew swiftly into the hole—and what’s more, right into the very center of the barrel. “Gah!”

Amidst the men and women crawling, tumbling, and thrashing about, there arose once more a piercing scream.

But no matter how much time passed, not only was there no explosion of gunpowder—there wasn’t even a sputter.

“Hm, heh heh heh… Hah! Hah hah hah hah!”

Hanabusa Ichirō finally burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” “Didn’t you notice I’d disposed of the gunpowder last night and replaced it with mud?” “What?!” Blundering—as Sakyō Michinosuke leapt back attempting to flee—he was pursued and grabbed from behind; no sooner had hands seized him than he was flung like a ball—and by the time he was yanked upright, handcuffs were already fastened. “Tch! Look at the trouble you’ve caused!”

The six men and women—both virtuous and wicked—each immersed in their own profound emotions, once again retraced the dark stairs and emerged into the light.

Outside was a beautiful spring afternoon.

“Farewell, everyone.” The famed detective Hanabusa Ichirō, without so much as turning around and still sporting his ill-fitting tweed suit and goatee, tries to have Sakyō Michinosuke escorted away by his subordinate who had been waiting at the exit.

“How did you figure out that secret passage and the underground vault? At least tell me that before you go.”

When Kōichirō chased after him and asked, he stopped amiably and,

“It’s nothing remarkable. When Mr. Haruyama went missing, I was away on official business and unconnected to this case—so I disguised myself as a numismatics researcher and restarted my investigation as a detective.” “But the first things I obtained were those old coins and key you know about. Previous investigators likely overlooked them, but in this case, that absurd little keepsake became our most vital clue.” “Playing the fool, I searched both rooms and—just as expected—found strange keyholes behind the piano and beneath the grandfather clock.” “So I borrowed the coins and key overnight, then slipped into the underground chamber from your room last night to investigate.” “Opening the silver trays and iron plates was simple enough. Finding adipocere and gunpowder in the cavity, I removed just the gunpowder and arranged for everyone involved to enter from both sides at noon today—that’s all.” “No need to worry about interruptions—the elders were obsessed with inheritance squabbles, while Sakyō stood guard trembling lest his crime be exposed.” “The assets Sakyō stole will emerge soon enough—no need to squeeze confessions from him……” “Still puzzled how Sakyō—ignorant of passages and lacking keys—managed to dump the master’s corpse and gunpowder before escaping? ……I considered it too until seeing it firsthand.—Beneath that corpse-filled pit lay another passage leading under the main building’s floor.” “After hiding his treasure, Mr. Haruyama had prepared materials to seal this third passage. Knowing this, Sakyō used it to swap treasure for corpse before sealing it with those very materials.” “The route we took today likely eluded even Sakyō. The coin-and-key trick proved too whimsical—a villain of his cunning would ironically overlook such playfulness.” “Otherwise he’d never have followed us meekly underground—he’d assumed no way existed to open it from above.” “Well? No errors there.”

The detective glanced back at Sakyō, bound with rope, and said this.

But after walking a few steps, he stopped again, “Before we part, I have one last word of caution to offer.” “—Now, everyone.” “Especially, I would like the elders to hear this.” “The inheritance disputes and property conflicts will likely settle down now—but while you elders were blinded by material greed, the young people were delving into the wellspring of life.” “At first, when I saw Mr. Kōichirō and Miss Yōko exchanging glances in the entrance hall, I realized the fiery light in their eyes bore no resemblance to base material desire.” “To put it plainly—while you elders became engrossed in your inheritance dispute and were busy hating one another, a tender love had taken root in the hearts of this young pair, and they came to cherish each other.” “Please, unite the two of them and let them properly inherit the Haruyama family fortune. That is the only reward I ask for.”

Bathed in the setting sun, with the abruptly flushed faces of the young pair behind him, the renowned detective Hanabusa Ichirō—still wearing old Minami’s visage—departed with an air of nonchalance.