Pathway to Japanese Literature

Corpse Thieves

A gleaming golden funeral car, seemingly without any particular destination, was driving round and round through the streets of Tokyo. Inside the car, upon closer inspection, there was indeed a coffin covered with a white cloth. It was unclear whether there was a corpse inside the coffin, but for a funeral car carrying a coffin to drive round and round from town to town without any accompanying vehicles was downright strange. It didn’t appear to be returning from having been hired for a funeral either. That said, if it were heading out to be hired now, the timing would be odd, since the long spring day was already drawing to a close.

Had the driver gone mad from the weather? Or had he forgotten where the garage was located? The funeral car was truly bizarre, but since not a single soul was following its trail, it continued to drive round and round, round and round, completely unsuspected.

Eventually, as the lights of the town’s streetlamps gradually grew brighter and stars began to twinkle in the sky—as if it had been waiting precisely for full nightfall—the deranged funeral car came to an abrupt halt in the very center of an exceedingly desolate residential district near Yarai in Ushigome. As the car came to a stop and its headlights were extinguished—perhaps that was the signal—a pitch-black, old-fashioned gate without even an entrance light creaked open, and a Western-clad man, incongruous with the gate, appeared like a shadow.

“Did it go well?” It was a very low whisper. “It went well. But driving round and round from four o’clock at the funeral until now without arousing suspicion ain’t no small feat, you know.” The funeral car driver spoke in the manner of a thief’s henchman as he stepped down from the driver’s seat. “Heh heh heh, good work, good work. And you’re certain the deceased is properly loaded in there, yes?” “That’s handled. They had no idea there’d be two golden cars showin’ up, so they fell right into our trap, just like we planned. By now, that empty fake coffin must be crackling away in the crematorium furnace.”

From the sound of their conversation, it seemed he had stolen someone’s corpse from the funeral parlor. They must have cleverly swapped the empty coffin in the real funeral car with the one containing the corpse through some sort of trick and transported it all the way here without arousing anyone’s suspicion. “Let’s save the talk for later. Please carry the coffin into the house.” “If someone comes, it’ll be troublesome.” “Righto.” “Then gimme a hand.”

There, the two suspicious figures hoisted the heavy coffin and entered through the gate. It was a dilapidated mansion so weathered by time that one might wonder if such an old building even existed in Tokyo. It had likely been built by a hatamoto or some such. The entire structure was not at all modern. The two men ascended the pitch-black entrance hall and, stepping onto the damp tatami mats, carried the coffin into the inner room. A ten-tatami room with a shoji window. Though that room alone had a relatively bright electric light hanging down, the dimmed fusuma panels, torn shoji paper, earthen walls stained by rain leaks, and soot-blackened ceiling—every detail felt unnervingly gloomy, as if they had stepped into Soma’s haunted ruins.

In the electric light, the appearances of the two figures were revealed. The man who had driven the funeral car was a hideously unattractive brute—narrow forehead, flattened nose, absurdly large mouth—reminiscent of a gorilla. His hair alone was slicked back with a greasy sheen, its repulsiveness so visceral it made one’s skin crawl. A dirty black suit—no dress shirt visible beneath it, just the collar of a knit shirt—clothing befitting a cheap chauffeur.

The other man wore a loose-fitting black velvet suit, with long, thick hair flowing down to his shoulders, a pale face adorned with black-framed Lloyd glasses, and a thick mustache—giving him the appearance of an artist.

“You’ve done well,” the Man with Lloyd Glasses commended his subordinate in an approving tone. “You managed not to arouse any suspicion.”

“Nah, weren’t nothin’ at all,” the Gorilla-like Man snorted through flared nostrils, tongue swiping across his lips. “Yoshi, you bastard pulled it off slicker’n grease. If that guy hadn’t been bunkin’ down at the funeral parlor playin’ driver, this whole caper’d be belly-up. See, while he was camped out in the real hearse with that empty dummy coffin, I scooped up the real deal in our phony funeral car—swapped ’em clean on the road to the burners. Them suckers never twigged to the golden-car switcheroo! Bet they’re bawlin’ their eyes out sendin’ that taxidermist’s bone-box—some poor sod’s leftovers—to the furnace, thinkin’ it’s their precious little missy!”

“Heh heh heh, well done, well done.” “I suppose I must reward you all handsomely.” “By the way, we’re done here now—go back and prepare your groom’s attire.” “Tomorrow morning, don’t forget about the photographer.” “The prints are quarter-plate.” “Got it all figured out.” “Just you wait ’n’ see what a fine groom I’ll make.” “Never even dreamed I’d be weddin’ such a looker.” “Sure wanna peek at that bride’s mug.”

“Very well.” “If you see her now, it’ll ruin the effect.” “You must endure until her makeup is fully completed.” “I’ll show you my skill.” “It’s just one night’s endurance.” “Well then, I suppose I’ll just have to endure it.” “The wait feels endless.” “I’ll leave it to you to make her as gorgeous as can be.” “Heh heh heh, certainly.” “Understood.” Thereupon, the Gorilla-like Man bid farewell and stepped outside, then drove the pitch-black funeral car—resembling a shrine—away into the night with its headlights off, destination unknown.

The Macabre Wedding

When he was alone, the Man with Lloyd Glasses pried open the coffin lid and peered inside at the corpse. “Hmph. A beauty—even as a corpse—still has a certain allure about her.” She hadn’t become too emaciated either. “This should work out perfectly.” Muttering to himself, he hoisted the eerie corpse with a grunt and laid it down on the tatami mats outside. The electric light directly illuminated the corpse’s waxen face.

Ah, what a beautiful corpse this was. Her age had likely not yet reached twenty. Though she had likely succumbed to illness, her face and body showed no significant wasting, retaining a well-proportioned fullness of flesh. However, though one might call it beautiful, being a corpse, it was a beauty devoid of any vital hue. No, upon closer inspection, an indescribably repulsive deathly pallor emanated across her entire face. A bone-chilling, otherworldly stench hung in the air. Even though she had been a beauty, a corpse was still terrifying.

“Now, Young Lady, I shall apply your makeup.” “Tomorrow is your joyous wedding, Young Lady.” While speaking to the corpse, the Man with Lloyd Glasses brought out makeup tools from a large trunk in the corner of the room. On the engawa was placed a metal basin filled with water. Special oil for dissolving pigments was also prepared. Now, he began preparing the corpse’s face as an actor would. Keeping her lying sideways, he first thoroughly washed her face with water, then applied cream as a base, followed by thick foundation paste, rouge, lipstick, face powder, and eyebrow ink—for a man, he had quite mastered the art of makeup.

But that alone proved insufficient. However much he enhanced her complexion’s luster, her facial features refused to take on vitality. It remained either a corpse or an inanimate doll. The eyes were lifeless. When he forced open her closed eyelids with his fingers and maintained pressure for some time, they stayed open—yet these were unmistakably not the eyes of a living person. He then took up a paintbrush, applying subtle shadows beneath her eyes and rouge at their corners before coloring even the desiccated eyeballs themselves with oil pigments.

Next was the mouth. No matter how red he made the lipstick, the muscles around her mouth had slackened limply, leaving them devoid of vitality. Thereupon, he kept pressing upward on both corners of her lips with his fingers for about twenty minutes—and once the muscles, which had already begun to stiffen, settled into this forced position, they transformed into a seemingly joyous smiling expression. The corpse had begun to smile cheerfully.

“Ahh, radiantly gorgeous—utterly flawless.” “Now we move to coiffure.”

He lifted the daughter’s corpse, propped it against the large trunk, and began deftly styling her hair. The hair tools had also been properly prepared inside the trunk. Even for an artist, to go so far as to style her hair—what a remarkable man he was. Moreover, what he had styled in about an hour was a magnificent *takashimada*—a hairstyle so elaborate that even a professional would find laborious. After crafting her face and styling her hair, next came dressing her in the wedding attire that had been prepared in advance within the trunk. Dealing with the unwieldy corpse alone was quite a struggle, but he managed to dress her in a gaudy crested kimono and even tie the brocade obi smartly.

Then, he hung the prepared pair of hanging scrolls in the tokonoma alcove, placed a vase, arranged two zabuton cushions facing forward, and seated the resplendently attired bride precisely upon one of them. To keep her from toppling over, he inserted the trunk’s support rod into the bride’s buttocks. By the time all preparations had been completed, the pallid light of dawn had fully spread across the sky.

Several hours later, precisely at the promised ten o'clock in the morning, the Gorilla-like Man arrived triumphantly. “How’s this for a groom’s getup?” When he was shown into the tatami room, he first flaunted his own appearance. A crested Sendai-hira hakama and the cords of his snow-white haori stood out. “Splendid. You make for a flawless groom. By the way, what of the photographer?”

“He should be arriving any minute now. After all, I’d told him ten o’clock...”

Having said that, the Gorilla-like Man in crested hakama abruptly cut off his words, looking startled. “Hey now, what’s got you so startled?”

“What the—” Gorilla-like Man stammered, “Th-that… That’s the corpse bride we’ve been talkin’ about? That’s her?” It was no wonder he was shocked. With her back to the tokonoma alcove, the bride sat upright; no matter how one looked at her, she did not appear to be a corpse. The loveliness of her face, smiling sweetly with lips pursed tightly. She looked ready at any moment to place both hands on the floor, flush faintly red around her eyes, and begin an Ogasawara-style greeting.

“It came out splendidly, don’t you think?” “Good lord, I’m downright flabbergasted. “This here’s really the corpse? “I ain’t lyin’—if a dead ’un can look this pretty, I’d take ’er for my wife right proper!” “That’s exactly why we’re staging this wedding ceremony.” “But just sittin’ side by side for photos ain’t satisfyin’. “Can’t we fix it somehow?”

“Hahahaha! You say ‘do something,’ but there’s no way we can actually do anything with a corpse, now is there?”

Just then, a voice sounded at the entrance. The photographer had arrived. “Now sit there next to her. Don’t let them catch on. Keep a straight face and don’t say a word.” Having left these words behind him,the Man with Lloyd Glasses hurried out toward the entrance.

Before long, the photographer, accompanied by his assistant, was shown into the tatami room. “Everything has already been properly prepared—we’re scheduled to leave for the ceremony hall right away, so please hurry up.”

The Man with Lloyd Glasses made a show of bustling about frantically.

The photographer thought there was something odd about the house, but since he had already received an advance payment and had no particular grounds for complaint, he promptly adjusted the focus and ignited the magnesium flash.

“Since we’re scheduled to move out of this house within two or three days, we’ll come pick up the photos once they’re ready.” “Please ensure you don’t miss the promised deadline.”

The Man with Lloyd Glasses escorted the photographer to the entrance, reiterated his instructions, and upon returning to the tatami room, was startled.

The Gorilla-like Man was gripping the corpse bride’s hand, kissing her palm, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and murmuring softly to her as if they were a real newlywed couple—that was precisely what he had been doing. “Hey, this is no joke. Cut it out with the stupid antics.” When he called out, the Gorilla-like Man startled and jumped away, “Heh heh heh... I just... she was so beautiful, you see?” He looked thoroughly sheepish.

“There, that’s done.” “The groom’s services are no longer required.” “Go change into your kimono.”

“But I still ain’t gettin’ it. What’s even gonna come of doin’ all this? So that photo’s gonna be some kinda leverage or somethin’?” “You can leave that to me. All you need to do is keep quiet and follow my instructions. Within two or three days, even you all will come to understand my brilliant grand scheme.” “And then—what about this young lady’s corpse? Surely you’re not just gonna dump her here and leave her?” “I’ve got that covered too. Just you wait and see. Just imagine the looks on their faces when they realize. You know full well what I’m capable of, don’t you?”

“Ufufufufufu... Not that I don’t kinda get an inklin’ myself, y’know.” “I bet you’re gonna pull off somethin’ real wild again, just like always.” “That’s why I can’t tear myself away from the boss’s side, y’know.” “Ufufufufu.” The Gorilla-like Man licked his lips and gave a creepy, suggestive smile, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

The Mysterious Automobile

Changing topics, on the very same night that the corpse bride’s wedding had taken place, a large automobile—its four headlights of varying sizes glaring imposingly—drove majestically down a certain main street in Kojimachi Ward, brushing past rundown taxis. Both the driver and the assistant wore suits without a trace of sweat stains, their hair and beards neatly groomed. They neither rushed nor panicked, maintaining a dignified composure, yet before long had overtaken one car after another on the road. Even their driving technique somehow appeared polished and sophisticated.

The middle-aged gentleman seated within the car was none other than Mr. Shobei Nunobiki—a millionaire known as the director and president of Nunobiki Bank. For a man like this, such an automobile and such a driver were only to be expected. With his plump, ruddy face; short beard streaked with white; thick lips clamped around a cigar—outwardly, it was the usual Mr. Shobei. But upon closer inspection, there was something deflated about him. He lacked his customary vigor. He was lost in thought. It was not a business matter. Even bankers are not always thinking about interest rates. He had become utterly absorbed in a more human sorrow.

The source of his grief lay not in external matters. Mr. Shobei Nunobiki had lost his beloved only daughter Teruko mere days before and had only just concluded her funeral the previous day. A passing chill had developed into acute pneumonia, and despite their devoted nursing efforts proving futile, she had vanished like fleeting snow. Her prospective husband had already been settled upon. Junichi Torii—a handsome, brilliant, and resourceful young man employed at Nunobiki Bank—had met the president’s discerning approval, mutual consent had been secured, and they stood poised to select an auspicious wedding date.

As her condition worsened—perhaps having already come to terms with her impending death—Teruko begged her parents to summon Junichi Torii and refused to leave his side even for a moment. And then, on the very brink of drawing her last breath, she grasped Torii’s hand, “Father, Mother, please forgive me.” While apologizing, she begged Torii for one final kiss. Torii, tears streaming down his face, pressed a chaste kiss to Teruko’s forehead, which had already begun to grow cold.

Mr. Shobei Nunobiki couldn’t help but have that scene flickering before his eyes like a phantom even now. Ah, poor thing—how she must have wished not to die, he thought. Quite right. Quite right. He whispered complainingly in his heart to the deceased. While he had been lost in such thoughts of his deceased beloved daughter, the car suddenly made a sharp turn, jolting his body sideways, and the great banker abruptly snapped back to reality. When he looked, there before him loomed a large automobile blocking the way. Just before a collision could occur, it was narrowly avoided thanks to the deftness of their driver.

“I’m terribly sorry.”

The driver of the opposing automobile stuck his face out the window and was apologizing politely.

Our driver, given the prestige of the luxury automobile, maintained his dignity and refrained from crude shouting. Instead, he drove straight ahead in silence, ignoring the other party's apology, and quietly set the car in motion. The opposing automobile also began to move. Having nearly collided, both departing cars passed each other with their windows so close they nearly grazed as they headed in opposite directions. Mr. Shobei Nunobiki naturally looked at the opposing car’s window. The window—mere inches from his eyes—imprinted itself on his vision despite his efforts not to look. The glass was open. Inside was a face like a white flower.

Since this window was also half-open, their faces came directly opposite each other without any obstruction. In Mr. Shobei Nunobiki’s head, something like a blazing firework whirled around and around. He could neither speak nor even breathe—it was as if his breath had stopped from the sheer intensity of it. Then a familiar, dearly missed voice cried out rapidly—“Oh, Father! Father! Help me—” No! She had started to call out— Before the “ta” in “Help me” could leave her lips, someone clamped a hand over Teruko’s mouth and smoothly drew down the window blind.

It was unmistakably my daughter Teruko. “Ah, Teruko! Hey, stop the car! Chase that car!” Inside the car, Mr. Shobei stamped his feet and shouted.

However, our driver did not understand the details of the matter. Startled and unsure what was happening, our driver hesitated, and in that moment, the opposing car shot off like an arrow. “No matter what—chase that car right now! Hurry! What are you dawdling for?” At Mr. Shobei Nunobiki’s frantic command, the driver finally turned the car around and began to give chase. Though it was quite a fast car, he took time with the U-turn and other maneuvers. Moreover, though small in build, the opposing car was moving at an absurd speed.

Within four or five blocks of racing down the nighttime boulevard, the opposing car had veered off into some side street and vanished in an instant. They circled around and around that area but could not find an automobile that fit the description anywhere. With no other choice, Mr. Shobei Nunobiki abandoned the search and directed the car back toward his residence, but upon reflection, he couldn’t help feeling as though he’d been fox-bewitched. Teruko had taken her last breath before his eyes just days prior and had even been given a proper funeral. He had indeed witnessed her coffin being placed into the crematorium’s furnace. That dead Teruko could not possibly have been riding in a car around town at this hour.

But the girl from earlier had unmistakably borne Teruko’s very face. He could not conceive of another person resembling her so perfectly. Not only that—she had even cried out, "Father!" Another girl would have no reason to utter such words. It was truly unfathomable.

Was this a trick of my mind? Could some strange coincidence have caused me to experience those visions and auditory hallucinations? Or could it be that my deceased daughter’s ghost had wandered out from the netherworld—blending into night’s shadows—to visit her beloved father? Mr. Shobei Nunobiki stood confounded before this phantom that had vanished like a street-stalking demon across his vision. The absurdity overwhelmed him; even at home he withheld this madness from Sonoko his wife. To speak such folly would only wring fresh tears from Teruko’s mother—this conviction stayed his tongue.

Though the voice of his daughter crying “Father, help me…” clung to his ears and weighed on his mind heavily, Mr. Shobei Nunobiki could not very well take such a dreamlike story to the police and request a search. Therefore, he forced himself to conclude it must have been a hallucination and strove to forget it.

Torii, the young man

But the mystery did not end there. Four or five days later, one morning, Teruko’s former fiancé Junichi Torii arrived pale-faced. On his way to work at the bank, he went out of his way to make a detour and visit the president’s residence.

At that very moment, Mr. Shobei Nunobiki was in his customary morning bath, but upon hearing of urgent business, he hurriedly left the bath chamber and came out to the parlor. “A truly strange thing happened. “I felt as though I were going mad and couldn’t keep still, which is why I ended up disturbing you so early in the morning.” When Torii saw the bank president’s face, he suddenly blurted out something strange. It was something unbecoming of a usually composed young man.

“What’s the matter? Please sit down.” Mr. Shobei Nunobiki settled into a chair himself and picked up a rolled cigarette from the table.

“I must ask something rude—but did Teruko-san ever marry anyone during her lifetime?”

Torii said accusingly, his pale face tinged with faint anger.

Mr. Shobei Nunobiki, startled, gazed at the other’s face. He couldn’t help but suspect that this poor man had been driven mad by grief over losing Teruko. “Don’t speak such nonsense—as you well know, Teruko was a pure virgin without the slightest blemish. You were her one and only fiancé—why would you ask such a thing?”

“Please look at this,” he said. “An unknown person sent this by mail this morning.” Torii hurriedly untied the furoshiki cloth, pulled out a large quarto-sized photograph, and thrust it before the president’s eyes. “Who on earth is this person? Since they’ve gone so far as to appear in this photograph, you must certainly know who they are!” He spoke with blazing eyes, as if lunging forward.

Mr. Nunobiki took the photograph, and the moment he saw it, even he couldn’t help but pale. There, in Takashimada bridal hairstyle and resplendent in a furisode, was my daughter Teruko, photographed alongside an unfamiliar, ugly young man. It was clearly a commemorative wedding photograph. The great banker stared at it fixedly; for a while, he could do nothing but groan. But soon, “Who on earth could have sent this?” he asked.

“I don’t know who it is. There’s no sender’s name.” “Hmph—I haven’t the faintest idea either. I’ve never seen such a man before. And no matter how eccentric my daughter might have been, she would never have married this gorilla-like ugly brute! It’s a prank. Clearly someone’s prank.”

Mr. Nunobiki declared angrily.

“But there’s no way a photo trick could be executed this flawlessly. I thought someone might have pasted only the Young Lady’s face onto the body of a woman dressed in formal attire, so I examined it closely—there are absolutely no traces of such alterations. It’s definitely genuine. Moreover, the name of the photo studio is printed on this mounting board. It even has the phone number written on it. If you summon this photographer and question him, you’ll know immediately.” “Ha ha ha… There’s no need to summon the photographer. I declare—my daughter would never have held a wedding with such a man!”

“But just to be sure.” “If it’s a prank, we must track down whoever did this and punish them.” “In any case—I think we must at least question the photographer.” When stated this way—it made perfect sense. Even if she was deceased—he couldn’t simply abandon his daughter having suffered such an insult.

Thus, they telephoned the photo studio noted on the mounting board and had its proprietor summoned. Before long, the photographer—already familiar to readers—appeared in the great banker’s parlor, bowing deferentially.

When presented with the photograph in question and asked, "Do you remember taking this photo?" he immediately recalled and answered.

“I remember it. “It was taken on an assignment just four or five days ago. “It was quite a rush job—we developed it with almost no retouching. And yes, if I recall correctly, the name was Mr. Arameda. “Because it was such an unusual name, I remember it clearly.” The photographer amiably rattled off. “What did you say? “Four or five days ago? “That’s absurd! How could such a photo even exist? “But where exactly did you take this?”

“It was at an old mansion in S-chō, Ushigome Ward.” “Ah, right… that was… Yes, I remember now.” “It was last Sunday.” “I distinctly remember that the children’s school was closed that day.” “Huh? Sunday, you say?”

Mr. Nunobiki and Torii, the young man, cried out almost simultaneously. “You there—is that truly accurate?” “Ah, there is absolutely no mistake. In the afternoon, a light rain began to fall—that was the day.”

Indeed, if one were to speak of recent days when light rain fell in the afternoon, there was none other than Sunday. “You aren’t telling some sort of joke, are you? “The woman in this photograph is my daughter. “She passed away from a sudden illness, and today marks the eighth day. “Do you understand? “The bride pictured here passed away last Thursday and was cremated on Saturday. “Is it possible that this corpse—cremated on Saturday—could have dressed in such resplendent attire and held a wedding on the very next day, Sunday?”

“Wh-wh-what do you mean?” This time, it was the photographer who stood dumbfounded. The voice on the phone.

Such a thing was impossible. A dead person thrust her face out from the car window and called to her father. A dead person held a wedding ceremony.

Should one believe in ghost stories in this modern age? If not a ghost story, could such a bizarre event truly occur? Even after the photographer left, Mr. and Mrs. Nunobiki and Junichi Torii put their heads together and discussed this inexplicable matter at length, but in the end, nothing came to mind beyond feeling creeped out.

“Could it be that Teruko is actually still alive and being held captive somewhere?” “I can’t help but think that way.” “Darling, isn’t there any way to confirm that?”

With eyes that seemed to chase the phantom of her deceased beloved daughter, the wife clung to her husband’s wisdom.

“But that’s theoretically impossible.” “First of all—how do you explain what’s inside the bone urn enshrined in our household altar right now?” “That is undoubtedly Teruko’s bones.” “Surely there can’t be a substitute corpse.”

When considered, it was undeniably so. A dead person who had been cremated and had their bones collected had no reason to be alive. The idea of reporting this matter to the police was raised, but since doing so would only amplify the commotion and disturb the deceased who was finally resting peacefully, it was decided that it would be better to leave things be until more concrete facts could be obtained.

“There must be some grave mistake somewhere.” “Every last one of us might be going a little mad.” “We must refrain from rashly making a commotion.”

It was only natural that Mr. Nunobiki feared having baseless rumors spread and being exposed to public shame.

And so, with Junichi Torii heading to his company and Mr. Nunobiki likewise going out on business matters, the day ultimately ended in ambiguity. But then, late that night, as if coordinated, extraordinary events befell both Mr. Nunobiki and Junichi Torii.

First, regarding Mr. Nunobiki—close to midnight on that same day, he was awakened by a maid’s voice just as he had fallen asleep. “Um… There’s a telephone call for you, sir.” “They… They insist you come to the telephone at once…”

“You’re being noisy.” “Tell them to make it tomorrow.” “Where on earth is it from?” Mr. Nunobiki rebuked the maid in a sleep-slurred voice.

“Um, um…” The maid, for some reason, hesitated in her speech and fidgeted nervously. When he looked, she was unnaturally pale, her voice trembling, clearly terrified by something.

“What’s wrong with you? Who is calling?” “Um—they said it was Teruko. It was unmistakably the voice of our young lady who has passed away.”

The maid finally said it and, fearing she might be severely scolded, timidly looked at her master. “Teruko? Now why are you saying such foolish things?” “There’s no way a call could come from a dead person!” “But she keeps insisting on speaking to Father—no matter how many times I ask again, she just repeats ‘Teruko! Teruko!’” The maid’s voice had grown tearful.

As he listened, Mr. Nunobiki found himself drawn into an uncanny suspicion and began to feel that perhaps it truly was Teruko. At any rate, he had the bedroom desk telephone connected and picked up the receiver.

“This is Nunobiki. Who are you?” “Ah, Father! “I’m Teruko.” “Do you understand?” “Teruko is alive, you know.” “Hey, Teruko! “Are you really Teruko?” “Where are you?” “What on earth happened?”

Even the stalwart veteran businessman couldn’t help becoming flustered upon receiving this shocking phone call.

“Father! I can’t say anything. There’s someone here with me. I can’t say anything beyond what I’ve been ordered to. Otherwise, I’ll be killed.”

“Alright, I understand.” “Be at ease. I will surely rescue you.” “Now, go ahead and tell me what you were ordered to say.” After the phone call ended, Mr. Nunobiki considered having the telephone exchange trace the caller’s address and deliberately pretended to be nonchalant.

“Father! I’m sorry. “I can’t believe I have to ask something so awful of you, Father.” “...Um, the person here says to tell Father to buy me back.”

“Alright, I understand. Go ahead and tell me quickly. Just how much ransom are they demanding?” “Fifty thousand yen… and they say you must bring it in cash yourself, Father.” “There, there. There’s no need to worry. Father will pay that ransom for you. So, where should I take it, then?”

“Well, um… Father called a photographer today, didn’t you? Didn’t you inquire about the vacant house in Ushigome S-chō at that time?” “Yes, I heard. Are you there now?” “No, I’m not there now. But tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, I will be taken there. And they say they’ll send me back in exchange for your money. Do you understand? To that vacant house in S-chō tomorrow morning at ten… right? Do you understand?”

“Understood, understood.” “Wait calmly there. Father will surely come to get you, all right?” “And—if you tell the police about this or anything—I’ll be killed, I tell you.” “I can’t say anything now—there are so many on their side…a terrifying group beyond imagination…please be careful…Oh! I won’t say another word.” “Yes—hanging up now—hanging up—” “Well then, Father—truly—”

At that moment, the man who had been beside her must have forcibly hung up the receiver, for her voice abruptly cut off.

Needless to say, Mr. Nunobiki immediately contacted the telephone exchange and had them trace the caller's location. However, all this revealed was just how exceedingly cautious the other party had been. The call had originated from a public telephone in some outlying district. Naturally, the culprits must have already fled far beyond reach. No matter how great a commotion he raised now, catching them would prove impossible. Mr. Nunobiki resolved to comply with the criminals' demands and refrain from notifying the police. He had often heard of cases where defying such demands led to catastrophic outcomes. The culprits wanted fifty thousand yen. If he simply paid them, they would likely do no harm. Though fifty thousand yen was no small sum, it amounted to little when measured against Mr. Nunobiki's fortune. More importantly, it would buy back the life of his irreplaceable only daughter. "There's no bargain quite like this," declared the magnanimous Mr. Nunobiki, swiftly settling on his course of action.

Nightmare

Now, the story shifted to the young man Torii Junichi.

At nearly the same moment that Mr. Nunobiki heard the voice of the deceased in that strange phone call, Junichi Torii was approaching the eerie vacant house in Ushigome S-chō as if pulled by invisible strings.

That night, he wandered through darkened streets from town to town, shrouded in nightmarish doubts—"Had his lover truly died? Or was she still alive?"—until before he knew it, he arrived almost unconsciously at the gate of the eerie house in S-chō.

Though he thought there was no way that lavishly adorned bride could still be in this house now, the decaying antiquated building somehow drew him in.

He staggered unsteadily into the pitch-dark gateway. The gate door opened effortlessly with a single push.

As he took a step into the garden, a stench of decay permeated the darkness, giving him an indescribably eerie feeling as though he had entered a cave inhabited by monsters. Ahead, tree branches grew unchecked, their lush forms intertwining; as he pushed through them, a clammy spider web immediately clung to his face. The overgrown weeds reached up to his knees; his shoe soles squelched damply, as if trudging through a muddy swamp. In that darkness so thick he could almost feel it, he thought: Ah, I must be having a terrible nightmare now. The inside of the vacant house was so dark, so quiet, so divorced from reality.

As he rustled through the tree branches and turned through the garden, ahead he saw a rectangular white object resembling a movie screen. It was that one of the storm shutters on the veranda was open, and inside, a single candle burned forlornly. The dim reddish-brown light of the candle appeared white as a screen to eyes accustomed to the darkness. There was another reason it looked like a screen. Within the rectangular space of the single open storm shutter, there was a dim human figure.

The candle’s round light—fading gradually as the flame drew away—illuminated the figure from the chest upward, making it seem to float into view. “Ah, Teruko-san!” Junichi Torii involuntarily burst out but managed to bite it back.

Swaying faintly in the dim light of the candlestick, sitting in the depths of the veranda was none other than Teruko Nunobiki. It was the figure of his beloved who was supposed to be dead. So it was true after all. Teruko-san was alive. And she had been waiting for him to come rescue her. It was Teruko-san’s mysterious thread of the heart that had drawn him here. Junichi Torii approached his lover as though swimming through air while cold oily sweat streamed down from his armpits.

“Oh, Mr. Torii! My, you’ve come.”

Suddenly, Teruko within the reddish-brown halo of candlelight spoke without moving or changing her expression. The sight truly had a nightmarish, maddening quality, but the young man had no time to entertain such doubts.

“Ah, thank goodness.” “Teruko-san, I’ve come to pick you up.” “Were you here all alone in this desolate place?” “Were you being held captive by someone?” “Where did they go?” “Are they keeping watch in the darkness deeper inside?”

He drew near, placed his hands on the veranda, leaned his face toward Teruko sitting about one ken further inside, and asked in rapid-fire succession.

“No… There’s no one else here… I’m all alone… I was waiting…” Teruko answered from within the candle’s halo with a forlornly cold expression，not even offering a smile.

Somehow she seemed not of this world—more like a divine woman from another realm altogether. The words “I’ve been waiting” were uttered forcefully, imbued with some strange meaning. It was such a bizarre, unfamiliar accent that he nearly startled, thinking, “Oh! Is this really Teruko-san?” “Come on, let’s go home. Hurry and come down from there. I’ll escort you home.”

Even as the young man urged her on, Teruko did not so much as stir. “No, I can’t go home now.” “Rather than that, do come up here.” “And then, in this quiet room—just the two of us—let’s have a nice long talk.”

Something was wrong. Could it be that Teruko-san had suffered terribly at the hands of villains and lost her mind? When Torii suddenly thought this, his lover—looking so dejected and lonely—seemed so pitiful that tears began to spill.

He took off his shoes and stepped up onto the veranda to lift Teruko, who showed no sign of moving. Teruko’s hair was arranged in the same takashimada bridal hairstyle as seen in the photograph, now slightly disheveled with stray strands hanging over her forehead. When he noticed, she wore only a single long underkimono with a gaudy red pattern, her chest exposed and pure white skin laid bare in a manner of indescribably monstrous allure. As if signaling Junichi Torii’s hesitant placement of his hand on Teruko’s soft shoulder after a brief pause, the veranda candle went out. When the sole ray of light vanished, what remained was a true darkness like spilled ink.

“Oh no! I’ve put out the flame! I’ve got matches—I’ll light it now.” A lukewarm woman’s hand tightly grasped his hand as he frantically tried to find the matches. “No, it’s all right. It’s better without the candle. You see, Mr. Torii—you don’t understand—that candle was blown out by me.” Along with that voice came something soft and fluffy coiling around his body like a serpent until he couldn't move at all. The other’s hot breath stirred against his cheek where fine downy hair grew.

The young man, covered in oily sweat, was dragged relentlessly into the nightmare. He found the maddening eeriness unbearable, yet of course he had no will to resist.

“Hohohoho, Mr. Torii. Do you understand? The meaning of this...” After he flinched, a cheerful laugh echoed through the darkness.

“Huh?! Is that... your voice? Who are you? Aren’t you Teruko-san?” The young man Torii, who had collapsed limply, opened his eyes wide in astonishment into the darkness. Neither her actions nor her words seemed like Teruko’s. And then that completely different voice. Had Teruko truly gone mad? If not, then was the soft-bodied creature in the darkness from the start not Teruko, but some other woman? “No—I’m Teruko. Your fiancée Teruko. Hohohoho!”

The voice in the darkness laughed again. It was Teruko’s voice after all.

“You know, I think I might as well kill you.”

At the same time as that voice, a soft snake slithered up and coiled around the young man’s neck. “Stop it.” “Come now, let’s go back.” “Father and Mother are worried to death about you.”

The final words he had started to say could not be fully uttered. Because the coiled snake had gradually tightened its grip and stopped his breath. “U-uh... I can’t... breathe!” “What are you—what are you doing?!” “Have you gone mad…?”

The young man, unable to shake off the frail woman’s arm, thrashed about wildly. “Hohohohoho, I’m not doing a thing.” “I’m going to strangle you to death.” “Do you understand?” “Mr. Torii.”

The voice had changed completely again.

The young man heard it with his ears, bloodshot and ringing violently. And then, the moment he realized what was happening, he suddenly thrashed about like a fish in a net, desperate as if fighting for his life. "I know... I know... Y-you're... You devil! Devil!"

While struggling, a death scream gushed from the young man’s mouth. He clearly realized, in his final moments, that the woman in the darkness was not Teruko but a certain astonishing woman.

Terrifying Double Suicide

The following morning, when the appointed ten o'clock arrived, Mr. Shobei Nunobiki prepared the ¥50,000 ransom and stealthily made his way to the vacant house in S Town. Passing through the gate, opening the lattice door of the entrance, and whispering a request for guidance—perhaps due to the storm shutters being closed—a man emerged shuffling from the pitch-dark inner room. It was a grotesque, gorilla-like monster dressed in the usual funeral car driver’s uniform. Mr. Nunobiki, though his clothing differed, instantly recognized him as the groom from that photograph and was overcome by an indescribably unpleasant feeling.

“I am Nunobiki. I’ve brought what was promised over the phone.” “Now please hand over my daughter.”

Mr. Nunobiki suppressed disgust so intense he wanted to strike [the man], and said meekly.

“Ah! Mr. Nunobiki.” “We’ve been awaiting you.” “Now then—do come up.” The gorilla spoke with an unexpectedly human manner.

“No, I won’t come up.” “Bring my daughter here immediately.” “I have the money right here.”

“But since the Young Lady is currently changing, please do come up for a moment.”

“I see. Then please guide me to the room where my daughter is.” Mr. Nunobiki, lulled into carelessness by his opponent’s gentlemanly manner of speaking, ended up stepping into the entranceway.

“It’s awfully dim in here, isn’t it? Are the storm shutters closed?” “Heh heh heh heh heh, it’s a vacant house, you see.” The monster laughed creepily. “Are you the mastermind behind this scheme? I saw that photograph, but you surely didn’t actually marry my daughter, did you?” “Heh heh heh heh, you’re quite welcome. The Young Lady is valuable merchandise, you see. We wouldn’t dream of doing anything to anger you, the buyer. That photograph was taken, so to speak, as proof that the work we’re doing isn’t a lie.”

The Gorilla-like Man was, uncharacteristically, all but rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“So, where is my daughter?” “She is here.” “She is on the other side of this sliding door.”

The Gorilla-like Man placed his hand on the sliding door and tried to open it. “From what I can see, it looks like you’re alone here—is that wise? Haven’t you considered the possibility that I might take my daughter and leave without handing over the money?”

Mr. Nunobiki suddenly felt like mocking the man and said. “Heh heh heh heh heh, do you think I’d overlook that? “Though it may seem like I’m alone, I’m certainly not by myself, you see.” “Inside that sliding door, besides the Young Lady, there is also a man you know quite well.” “Heh heh heh heh. And we’ve also scouted out that you came here all alone like a gentleman, keeping it secret from the police, you see.”

“Hmph, you truly are a villain,” Mr. Nunobiki retorted. “But I’ve made some preparations of my own. If you try to deceive me and refuse to hand over my daughter—look here! I’ll have you know I’m quite the expert marksman with this.” He produced the pistol he had prepared. “Oh, perish the thought,” the Gorilla-like Man simpered. “Deceive you? Unthinkable. This transaction holds great importance for me as well. I wouldn’t dream of cheating our most valued customer.” His tone shifted abruptly. “Well then—if you would…”

As he spoke, the Gorilla-like Man smoothly slid open the sliding door. But beyond the sliding door lay an impenetrable darkness where not even shapes could be discerned. Even if Teruko had been there, he wouldn’t have been able to see her. "Oh—it’s pitch black in here!"

Mr. Nunobiki stuck his face out through the gap in the sliding door and fixed his eyes on the pitch-black room. Then, from behind the sliding door, something white abruptly flew out and covered his nose and mouth. When he startled and tried to pull back, before he knew it, the Gorilla-like Man had locked both his iron-like arms around him from behind, allowing not even the slightest movement. “Mmph, mmph…” While groaning and shaking his head, an intense odor—so sharp it stung his eyes—seeped through his entire body. And then, helplessly, Mr. Nunobiki lost consciousness. The white object that had flown out from behind the sliding door was, needless to say, a cloth soaked with anesthetic; another villain had been lying in wait there and struck him by surprise.

How much time had passed? When he opened his eyes as if waking from a dream, Mr. Nunobiki found himself lying in a pitch-dark room. Realizing he’d been had by the criminals, he checked his pocket—and sure enough, the furoshiki bundle containing the banknotes was gone. It seemed they had even taken the pistol; no matter how he groped around the area, his hands found nothing. Ah, I was mistaken. Treating thieves as gentlemen and showing magnanimity had been a disastrous miscalculation.

Mr. Nunobiki stood up with a bitter smile at his own childish failure. Fortunately, there was no sign that he had been harmed anywhere. At least they had spared his life.

He groped his way to the engawa and opened the rain shutters. In any case, in such darkness he couldn’t see anything around himself—which was precisely why he had done so.

As he slid open one rain shutter after another, a dazzling brightness—though it was a cloudy day—streamed into the room.

Mr. Nunobiki turned around and gazed at the room. Then, he jolted and stood frozen in place.

He doubted whether he had not yet fully awakened from the anesthetic-induced dream.

What had caused Mr. Nunobiki such shock and terror? The reader has long since known.

There lay the strangest lovers’ corpses, entangled where they had fallen. What lay beneath was Teruko-san’s form, clad only in her long under-robe. Pinning her down from above was none other than the young Torii, who had parted from him just yesterday morning.

Indeed, the thieves had not lied. Teruko had indeed been in this room. There was also another “man you know quite well.” Yet both were dead. Utterly dumbfounded, Mr. Nunobiki stood staring fixedly at the bizarre lovers’ corpses.

Why had the criminals needed to kill these two? If they had already stolen the ransom money, there would have been no need to commit such a dangerous crime as murder—would there? When he moved closer to look, he saw a bluish bruise on young man Torii’s neck and realized he had been strangled. At the same moment, Mr. Nunobiki saw Teruko-san’s skin. And though she was his own child, an icy shudder ran through him, forcing him to turn his face away. Teruko had been plastered from face to chest with white powder as thick as a wall, leaving almost none of her natural skin visible beneath it—yet lurid purple blotches had emerged where the powder had cracked, marring her limbs and other areas. Her eyes had clouded to a milky pallor like those of a fish; parts of her skin had already begun decomposing, peeling away in limp folds.

The most gruesome was her chest. Countless scratch marks covered every inch of her flesh, and atop her breasts—swollen like jellyfish—young man Torii’s distorted fingers, contorted in his death throes, had clawed rake-like deep into the putrid flesh. What a terrifying lovers’ suicide this was. The man had only just breathed his last moments ago, yet the woman’s flesh had rotted and festered, bearing clear witness that several days had passed since her death.

The Horrifying Marks It goes without saying that Mr. Nunobiki reported this extraordinary incident to the police. Upon receiving the urgent report, investigators from the Prosecutor’s Office, the Metropolitan Police Department, and the jurisdictional police station rushed to the scene and immediately conducted a meticulous and thorough investigation.

At the scene, not a single concrete clue had been left behind. Not a single fingerprint—let alone any belongings left behind by the criminals—was discovered. Since the thieves had unlawfully occupied the vacant house, even when they investigated the owner, they gained nothing. Neither Mr. Nunobiki nor any of young man Torii’s acquaintances had the slightest inkling as to why Miss Teruko or young man Torii would have incurred such deep resentment.

However, there were two things that were clearly established. The first of these was the Gorilla-like Man whose face was exposed in the wedding photograph. That this man was one of the thieves was made clear by Mr. Nunobiki’s testimony.

Thus, the police focused all their efforts on tracking down the grotesque Gorilla-like Man, using the wedding photograph as their sole clue.

The second clue—though this was something still unknown to readers—was what came to be called the "criminal's propaganda," an audacious self-introduction on the part of the thieves that made this case all the more bizarre and supernatural.

The thieves had left their business cards at the crime scene. But these were no ordinary paper business cards.

Even the seasoned police officers, when they discovered this utterly sinister self-introduction by the thieves, couldn’t help but gasp “Ah!” and avert their faces. At that time, the officials had gathered around Teruko-san’s corpse to prepare it.

The corpse, decayed after several days postmortem, emitted an indescribable stench, its skin threatening to slough off limply at the slightest touch—making the task of removing its kimono excruciatingly laborious. The heavily made-up face alone was as beautiful as a doll’s, but right below the neck lay gray rotting flesh—an indescribably grotesque contrast. They gently turned the corpse face down and, working together—the police doctor and a patrol officer—proceeded to remove the alluring long under-robe. Beneath the red crepe silk that spiraled away, Miss Teruko’s gray back was gruesomely revealed.

“Whoa, these wounds are horrible!” Someone involuntarily shouted. The entire gray back was covered with dull black scars resembling squirming earthworms. But what complex wounds these were. No—these were not wounds. It was something indescribably strange… No, no—they were indeed scars after all. If they weren’t [scars], how could such horrible earthworm-like welts have formed? But even as scars went, these were by no means ordinary.

“Hey wait—these scars… they look like characters.” “Look! The top one is‘恐.’” “Then there’s‘怖’and‘王.’” “It spells out‘恐怖王!’” “‘The KingofTerror!’”

A detective shouted.

Indeed, upon closer inspection, the scars could be read as “King of Terror.” There was no way the effects of the corpse’s decay could have coincidentally manifested in such a form. The criminals had undoubtedly intentionally marred the corpse with a dagger or similar tool, carving this horrifying inscription into it. For what purpose?

While it was impossible to reach a definitive conclusion on the spot, from the characters' meaning they could only assume this was the thieves' self-introduction. Everyone present had arrived at the same realization. And that assumption proved entirely accurate.

And yet, what a heinous scheme those thieves had conceived! He hacked the beautiful young lady’s body to pieces and imprinted those grotesque human flesh business cards upon it. Through sensational reports that devoted nearly an entire page of the newspaper, this unprecedented bizarre incident spread nationwide, providing people with the perfect topic of conversation. Why did the thieves have to commit such a cruel murder? What was the purpose of the disguised double suicide? Who was this “King of Terror” carved into the beautiful corpse’s back? And was that Gorilla-like Man—so revolting to look at even in photographs—truly human, or some beast merely resembling one?

People lowered their voices and whispered these terrifying questions among themselves. The criminals had audaciously announced themselves through human flesh business cards. Moreover, they were even brazenly flaunting photographs of their fellow Gorilla-like Man. Strangely enough, despite all efforts by the police, not only the whereabouts of the thieves but also their identities and the motive for the murder remained completely unknown. Even the Metropolitan Police Department’s famed detectives could only stand by with folded arms, muttering, “We’ve never encountered a case as baffling as being bewitched by a fox.”

However, displaying what astonishing audacity—perhaps deeming the authorities’ investigation too lax—the thieves employed truly outlandish methods to parade their name—which should have been hidden away in utmost secrecy—before the public again and again, declaring: “Look at this! Even with this, can’t you catch me?”

If these thieves were not madmen, then they would have to be called villains of unparalleled cruelty and viciousness—the kind that appears once in a century, one in ten million.

Five rice grains.

Now shifting focus—among the friends of the victim, young man Junichi Torii—there existed a detective novelist bearing the curious moniker Rando Oe. Despite his old-fashioned moniker “Rando,” he was still a thirty-year-old young writer who had gained considerable fame in those circles for his bizarre writing style and his penchant for meddling not just in novels but also in actual criminal cases. Being such a Rando, when he heard the full account of young man Junichi Torii’s unnatural death, he not only lamented his friend’s misfortune but went a step further—seeming to harbor an ambition to personally investigate this bizarre criminal incident himself—and had reportedly been hinting at this intention to friends and others.

He was still single and living in an apartment, but he was no unfeeling block of wood when it came to love. Not only that—he had been blessed with a lover of extraordinary caliber. Speaking of Kyoko Hanazono, anyone who read the newspapers would know her. She was the daughter of Count Hanazono of the kuge aristocracy; a vocalist who had graced opera stages despite her noble status; and moreover, a woman of extraordinary beauty. What eccentric whim had led this aristocratic young lady to fall in love with a penniless novelist? It was likely her fondness for detective stories that had sparked it; yet among those who knew of this, there was not a single soul who did not envy Rando’s good fortune.

Kyoko Hanazono came to visit Rando’s apartment again that day. But unlike her usual self, she looked somewhat troubled.

“That’s strange—are you all right? You’re awfully down.” Rando immediately noticed this and asked.

“Yes, a little.” “There was something strange and inexplicable, you see.”

Kyoko took out a small paper package from the breast of her Western-style dress and placed it on the table. “What kind of strange thing?” “Early this morning, when I was seeing off a friend and waiting in Tokyo Station’s waiting room, a strange man suddenly spoke to me.”

“And then?” “He stealthily handed me this paper package. Then he said, ‘The promised medicine. If you partake of this, your voice will improve more and more,’ and hurried off somewhere.”

“Did you make such a promise?” “No, I don’t remember anything like that at all.”

“So, who was this man?” “Of course I don’t know him. He had long hair cut in a bob-like style and wore black clothes, looking like an old-fashioned artist.”

Dear readers, does this description of Kyoko’s not remind you of someone? You see, the man who received Teruko Nunobiki’s corpse from the Gorilla-like Man and applied that ghastly makeup. That was indeed the guy dressed like an artist in black clothes, wasn’t it?

But Rando Oe, having no way of knowing this, asked while opening the paper package labeled “medicine to improve one’s voice” on the table. “So, was there really medicine inside it?”

“Yes, but they’re these weird grayish rice grains—so ghastly.” “Of course you didn’t take them?”

“Of course not! If it were poison, that would be disastrous.” Sure enough, when he opened the paper package, there were five grayish rice grains meticulously wrapped. Could there really be such a thing as grayish rice grains? Or could they be pills shaped like rice grains? However, after rolling the particles between his fingertips for some time, Rando Oe abruptly stood up—apparently having discovered something—pulled out a magnifying glass from the desk drawer, picked up one rice grain, and began scrutinizing it intently.

“Kyoko-san, these are just ordinary rice grains after all.” “But why are they so grayish?” “You didn’t even examine these properly, did you?” “Yes, it was too creepy…”

“You see, these grayish ones have characters written on them.” “On the surface of the rice grains, there are characters written so small that even a magnifying glass couldn’t make them out—covered in them, you see.”

“Oh! Really?”

“Take a look. Look, see? The same three-character combination is lined up here—dozens upon dozens of them, crammed together.”

When Kyoko peered through the magnifying glass, beneath its lens lay two gigantic fingers like logs, pinching between them a rice grain the size of a large melon. And on its surface,

King of TerrorKing of TerrorKing of TerrorKing of Terror……… And there they were—rows upon rows of black characters crammed tightly together. “Oh! You mean the King of Terror…” Kyoko looked at the detective novelist’s face with a start. “That bastard forced my friend Mr.Torii into that horrific double suicide.” “So he’s pulled another one of these stunts,huh.” “First they carved ‘King of Terror’ into Teruko Nunobiki’s corpse to show off,and now they’ve done this.” “Those bastards…Perhaps they’ve noticed I’m taking an interest in this case.”

“Oh, how terrifying!” “What should I do?” “Could they have targeted me?” “And perhaps even you…”

Kyoko had already turned deathly pale.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Are you saying they’ll make you and me commit another double suicide? Even a devil couldn’t manage such deft tricks so readily. Rest easy—I’m here with you.”

However, the count’s daughter had become so thoroughly frightened that she asked Rando to escort her all the way back to her mansion, claiming she was too afraid to go home.

Mysterious Characters in the Sky

The following day, Rando Oe received a telephone call from a friend residing in Kamakura. A student’s voice explained that an urgent matter had arisen, but since [the friend] had unfortunately taken ill and was resting, he presumptuously requested the trouble of [someone] arriving here by noon.

When he promptly went to investigate, what was going on? The friend who was supposed to be bedridden with a cold had left for Tokyo in the morning and was not home, and when he asked the student, he claimed to have no recollection of making any phone call.

"Hmm," he thought. This situation felt strange. So after all—had yesterday’s rice grains been the culprits' challenge? He wondered whether something might have happened to Kyoko-san during his absence.

No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than he grew restless with anxiety. Just as he was about to immediately head back to Tokyo and stepped out of his friend’s entrance, something peculiar suddenly caught his eye.

It was a single sheet of paper resembling a newspaper extra, thickly printed with something in large bold type. As it fluttered across the ground, blown by the wind, Rando followed it with his eyes—and there, in a fleeting glimpse, he caught sight of the characters: “King of Terror.”

“Oh!” he thought and chased after it, but as a small whirlwind carried the paper fragment relentlessly onward, he found himself drawn along until he had descended the entire gradual slope leading to the coast. Finally catching hold of the paper fragment and reading it, he thought it might be an extra edition about the notorious thief—but no, he realized it was yet another eerie prank by the culprit. On the paper fragment, just as with those rice grains, large bold type reading “King of Terror” was crammed across its surface like a type foundry’s sample.

“It’s the criminal’s propaganda leaflet, huh. But what a lunatic! To go around advertising their own name everywhere like this… Are they fools? If not, then they’re unbelievably arrogant bastards.”

While it might indeed have been childishness, it was precisely those with such childishness who were endowed with exceptional originality. As one could see from perusing criminal histories across East and West, the greater the criminal, the more they possessed a childish, absurd vanity that defied ordinary comprehension.

While pondering such thoughts, he suddenly looked up and gazed at the coast—only to find himself wondering what was going on. On the coast, long past the season for swimming, a midsummer-like throng of people had gathered.

Of course, these people were not wearing swimsuits—a mix of fishermen’s wives, shop boys from coastal merchants, and even city-style gentlemen and ladies among them—all uniformly gazing up at the sky.

“Ah, an airplane.”

When he realized this, followed the people’s gazes, and looked up at the sky, he understood why an otherwise unremarkable airplane was holding the attention of this massive crowd. Above the open sea, calm as a tatami mat, beneath a clear navy-blue sky stretching high above, a single airplane soared, tracing daring curves through the air. A band of black smoke billowed out from the tail of that airplane. This was it. The crowd on the coast was engrossed in this smokescreen. As the aerial acrobat—inverting, rolling, spiraling—soared freely through the sky with uncanny skill, a smokescreen as venomous as a summer storm cloud swiftly painted over the navy-blue expanse in bizarre curves.

“Is that a navy plane?” When he approached the crowd and inquired, “Well, where could it be from? It’s completely unexpected.” “There was nothing in the papers about it.” That was their answer.

“Oh! Look!” “How magnificent!” “That airplane is writing characters in the sky!” “There! Look there!”

Someone suddenly shouted. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, there in the vast sky—a gigantic Roman letter K spanning an entire city block—was being drawn with *whoosh*, *whoosh*, *swirl*, *swirl*. Next came a sharp twist and reversal with a *zoooom*, billowing into view came a **y**, followed by **o**, **f**, **u**, **o**… By the time the final **o** was completed, the initial **K** had blurred and spread out, its form beginning to distort—yet precisely for that reason, with nightmarish intensity that made greasy sweat ooze unconsciously from underarms, those sky-filling grotesque characters pressed down from overhead: *Kyofuo*… *Kyōfūō*… **King of Terror!**

“King of Terror, King of Terror” No sooner had whispers surged up among the crowd than—like a tsunami of madness—they instantly spread and swelled into an eerie chorus enveloping the entire coast. “It’s the King of Terror! The King of Terror! He’s on that airplane!” But what could they do against this aerial demon soaring a thousand meters high? Ignoring the clamoring crowd on the coast shouting “Look there! Look there!”, the demonic airplane, concealed within the smoke-screen characters it had drawn itself, rapidly diminished in size until it vanished into the distant horizon where sea met sky.

Flight Path Even after the airplane had flown away, the smoke-screen characters he left behind kept expanding hazily into infinite blurs, lingering in the vast sky like an eerie mirage. Rando Oe—perhaps overwhelmed by the demon’s excessively elaborate propaganda—remained standing vacantly on the coast long after the crowd had dispersed. But when he suddenly came to his senses, he discovered a peculiar figure standing about eighteen meters ahead at the water’s edge, staring fixedly at him.

“Strange. Why is that guy staring at me?” A turbulent surge of suspicion welled up within him. Hair like tangled mugwort. A tattered old padded kimono. A belt fastened with rope. He might be a beggar—but why would a beggar have been staring at him like that?

When he glared back fixedly at him, the beggar-like man turned away awkwardly and trudged off. As he walked, he kept glancing back furtively. The way he kept glancing back was undeniably suspicious.

Unable to abandon his pursuit, Rando ended up starting to follow the beggar-like man.

Across the wide sandy beach—veering right and left, sometimes even doubling back—the beggar-like man kept trudging onward. His gait appeared utterly like an aimless stroll, yet perhaps this was his ploy to bore Rando into giving up his pursuit. Circling round and round—had they wandered the sands for thirty minutes?—when Rando suddenly noticed five or six children clamoring atop a high stone wall. They were pointing at both the beggar and Rando while shouting something in frenzied excitement all the while.

“That’s letters!” “Those guys are drawing letters!” “Can you read it?”

“Can't ya read it? Look! That's the English letter K!”

This bizarre conversation struck Rando’s ear. Wondering just what the children were talking about, he turned to look behind him, but he couldn’t spot anything resembling letters. But he couldn’t dismiss the remark about “the letter K.” He suddenly noticed something and ran up the steep slope to the top of the high stone wall. “Hey, what are you kids talking about? Where are these letters you’re talking about?”

When he asked the children,

“Whoa, Mister! You drew it yourself and you don’t even know?” “C’mon, look! There! Right there!” When he surveyed the sandy beach they were pointing at, there on the deserted expanse of ground—where the beggar-like man’s footprints overlapped with Rando’s own shoe prints—stretched far into the distance an eerily contoured curve. Sure enough, when he climbed up here, those footprints had clearly formed the shape of Roman letters. Spanning half a block—an absurdly gigantic character. Due to its sheer size, while tracing it with my own footprints, I had failed to notice it at all.

Kyofuo... So it was indeed the six letters of "King of Terror." Hmm... Could the earlier smoke screen in the sky be casting shadows on the ground? With this strange suspicion, I looked up at the sky—but the smoke had already dissolved, leaving not a trace of haze behind.

Then had the smoke letters fallen to the ground and simply seeped into that sandy beach? Even the great detective novelist could not help doubting whether his mind had gone awry. What a wasteful, absurd—yet extraordinary—act of self-promotion by this criminal! Letters festering on a corpse’s skin, microscopic characters carved onto rice grains, smoke-screen letters in the sky indistinguishable from storm clouds, and now sand letters traced by footprints—what on earth was the meaning of all this?

The criminal was scattering demonic propaganda leaflets indiscriminately everywhere. Every last grain of rice became his calling card. The entire expanse of the sky turned into his calling card. Was he insane? No—no madman could execute such meticulously ordered schemes. He was sane. Perfectly sane while perpetrating this ludicrous farce. This man was a mastermind! The Teruko Nunobiki case had been nothing but a preliminary exercise. Now he was finally sowing his calling cards across society. Once this self-introduction concluded, wouldn’t the true performance commence?

But this was no time to be thinking such things. The immediate culprit was that beggar. Those letters had only appeared because Rando had followed exactly in the beggar’s footsteps. Meaning this mysterious writing had been created by none other than that beggar. When he looked, the beggar was already five or six blocks down the coast, walking along like a tiny bean in the distance. “Damn it! You won’t escape!”

Rando scrambled down the stone wall and tore off in pursuit of the beggar. Five ken, ten ken, twenty ken—in the blink of an eye, the gap between them shrank. The beggar glanced back at his pursuer and abruptly broke into a run, though sprinting clearly wasn’t his forte. He lurched forward with a clumsy stride, but stood no chance against Rando’s towering frame.

“Wait. There’s something I want to ask you.” Finally, the pursuer’s simian arm caught hold of the beggar’s collar hair.

Widow Natsuko The beggar, whose collar hair had been grabbed, showed no sign of agitation; he stood defiantly still and turned around lightly. Oe’s face and the beggar’s face were now about a foot apart, directly confronting each other.

Against the backdrop of the ash-gray sky over the coast, the beggar’s face loomed large in close-up.

Rando was startled and involuntarily released his grip. Because his face had been hidden by long hair—undoubtedly a wig—he hadn’t noticed until this very moment that this beggar was none other than the Gorilla-like Man. Though Rando had never met the Gorilla-like Man before, those grotesque features left no room for doubt. From beneath the disheveled wig—like a specter’s tangled hair—emerged a narrow forehead, bulging eyes, a flattened nose, thick lips, and a row of large, bone-white teeth bared in a grin. He cackled raucously, as if taunting, *Surprised?* A laugh so hideous it made one’s hair stand on end.

He had deliberately let Oe catch up in order to show this face. And now, having staged yet another "King of Terror" demonstration as was their custom, he intended to escape once more.

The Gorilla-like Man—his strength and speed were beyond human limits. He seized the moment of Oe’s brief distraction and suddenly broke into a run. How fast he was! He ran not just with his legs but also his arms in a manner so simian it seemed he might as well have been an ape. “Damn it, stop!” Oe could not help feeling a strange fury toward this beast. There was no room to consider anything—it just grated on his nerves unbearably. He had no less confidence in running than anyone else. He abruptly started running after the Gorilla-like Man. Across the deserted beach stretching as far as the eye could see, a grotesque creature and a human were locked in a desperate race for survival.

The Gorilla-like Man ran two or three blocks, climbed up a sand dune, and turned toward the town. It was a desolate place where large, silent mansions stood lined up, flanked by woods and open fields.

The thief wove between the tall hedges and concrete walls of those buildings, darting right and left in frantic circles—but through some miscalculation, he ended up charging into a dead end formed by converging walls. Both sides were concrete walls over three meters high. The dead end was a high stone wall, with no gap to escape into. *Got him!* *Finally caught you!*

Rando Oe charged toward his enemy with eager vigor. Ten meters now separated them. Five meters now. The Gorilla-like Man crouched at the concrete wall's base and ceased moving. Had he finally surrendered? Or was he preparing to spring at his approaching pursuer? No—that wasn't it. No sooner had he nimbly vaulted onto the wall like a zoo monkey than he scrambled up and scaled the three-meter-high barrier with inhuman speed. He vanished into the garden of an anonymous mansion.

Rando was so taken aback by his opponent’s sheer speed that he stood blankly at the base of the wall for an instant. *Is that thing even human?* he thought. *Not even an Olympic jumper could match that speed.* Then, struck by how his opponent now seemed like some terrifying beast, he couldn’t help shuddering.

Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t even manage to get a handhold on the top of the wall. He hurried around to the front gate and informed the mansion’s owner—there was no choice but to capture the monster.

“Come on out! If you don’t come out on your own, I’ll wait here till nightfall!” Rando shouted loudly, took precautions to prevent the enemy from climbing over the wall again and escaping, then stealthily circled around to the front gate.

Fortunately, the gate had been left wide open, so he rushed inside and pressed the bell at the entrance of the Western-style mansion. Just then, the door opened, and a woman in Western attire appeared.

“Oh, Sensei!”

The woman exclaimed in surprise. When he looked closer, it was Natsuko Kitagawa - his ardent reader and acquaintance - now appearing before him as a young widow. "Oh! Ms. Kitagawa?" "I need to speak with this household's master immediately." Rando pressed urgently, "The master? This happens to be my home."

The young widow answered with a smile.

Rando Oe had met her before and had even received letters from her, so he knew her address; but having never actually visited, he couldn’t help being somewhat taken aback upon seeing this imposing mansion. “Oh, please do come in,” “I was just about to go out, but please don’t let that stop you.” “Please, do come in.” “You’ve really come all this way, haven’t you?” “No, there’s no time for that.” “I need to see the backyard.” “And do you have a live-in student or any man here?”

“No, I’m afraid there’s no live-in student here. But the backyard… has something happened to the backyard?”

The young widow wore an expression of bewildered astonishment, as though wondering if this detective novelist had lost his mind. “Just show me the backyard. I’ll explain the reason later.”

Having declared this abruptly, he opened the wicker lattice door and dashed toward the back of the building, but soon returned to Natsuko—who still stood at the entrance—with an air of disappointment. He muttered something strange.

“Because it’s a lawn, there are no footprints. He must’ve climbed over the wall and escaped after all.” “Did someone enter the garden? Oh, how creepy. Who was it?” The widow shuddered violently. “Please let me use the telephone. I must inform the police.”

Guided by Natsuko, Rando hurriedly rushed into the telephone room.

As Natsuko stood outside the telephone room straining to listen, she could hear broken phrases like “King of Terror” and “Gorilla-like Man.” She gasped and couldn’t help but lose all color in her face. “Mr. Oe, has something happened to the Gorilla-like Man? Could it be—” After hanging up and emerging from the call, Rando came face to face with Natsuko’s horrifically contorted visage. “There’s no need to be so startled. Actually, the Gorilla-like Man climbed over the rear wall of your residence and fled into the estate.”

When she heard this, Natsuko gasped “Oh!” and staggered back unsteadily. Sorcery.

Soon, several police officers arrived and thoroughly searched not only the garden but every corner of the mansion; however, the Gorilla-like Man had vanished without a trace. Most likely, while Rando Oe was making his way to the front gate, he had scaled the wall once more and fled. Even after the police officers had left, Natsuko did not let Rando go.

“As I’ve sent my live-in student on an errand some distance away, leaving only us women here—which makes me feel rather uneasy—would you be so kind as to keep me company until his return, even if it’s an imposition?”

Having been told this, Rando Oe couldn’t help but feel a certain bewilderment. For although she was a widow, Natsuko was still in the bloom of her mid-twenties and, moreover, strikingly beautiful—this was why. Moreover, before he knew it, night had fallen, the decorative lamps in the parlor were glowing crimson, and he found himself being treated to an elaborate dinner—this was why. As they discussed various topics—the King of Terror, detective novels versus real-life crime—sure enough, a maid appeared to inform them that dinner was ready.

The dining room was no less luxuriously appointed than the parlor and spacious enough to accommodate over ten guests; upon its large dining table, an appetizing array of Japanese dishes had been neatly arranged atop the snow-white tablecloth.

“Since my husband’s passing, I haven’t employed a cook, so please excuse the simplicity of the maid’s home cooking.”

Natsuko apologized with a radiant smile and took the bottle of Western liquor from the table. “Allow me to pour your drink.” While Rando felt increasingly bewildered, he reluctantly raised his cup. “Is this preferential treatment because I informed them about the Gorilla-like Man’s case? Because they respect me as the author of the novels they regularly read? Or perhaps…”

Rando Oe could not help but question himself. There was definitely something strange about this situation. That a young and beautiful widow would associate with a novelist and send him letters was already peculiar. Moreover, she was no longer at an age to yearn for literary fame. She must have another motive. In other words—he realized—there existed a certain sentiment symbolized by her alluring words “Allow me to pour your drink.” As he considered this, he even recalled the suggestively phrased passages from the letter she had sent him.

Though the pen name “Rando” was rather unimpressive, he was still a thirty-year-old young writer and a man of such striking handsomeness that he was renowned even among his fellow authors; thus, he was a fortunate man who had often encountered this sort of temptation. Thus, no matter how beautiful the woman before him might be, he was not some sheltered young man to be immediately swayed by such charms; and since he already had someone unforgettable in his heart—Kyoko Hanazono, the Count’s daughter—this young widow’s attentions could only ever result in bewilderment.

The sake he drank with nervous sips failed to intoxicate him, while Natsuko—after partaking in a glass or two herself—began to flush faintly at her cheeks, growing ever more voluble and seductive. “I must take my leave now,” he said. “They’ll worry at home if I stay too late.”

When he declined, “You speak of ‘home,’ yet you don’t even have a wife there.” And just like that, she counterattacked. “Oh, isn’t that perfectly fine? “This sake doesn’t quite suit your palate, does it? “Right now—I’ll go fetch something that better suits your palate this very moment.”

Natsuko staggered slightly to her feet and, signaling with her hand "Wait right there," exited through one of the doors. Though Rando claimed not to be drunk, the forced sips of strong Western liquor had left his head slightly feverish, and now this unexpected hospitality in the splendid mansion—no, more than that, everything from the skywriting and sand messages earlier that day to the Gorilla-like Man—began to feel unreal, as though he were trapped in some nightmare.

As he sat there dazedly, his cheek propped against the white tablecloth, suddenly—also like something from a nightmare—a woman’s piercing scream rang out from somewhere in the mansion.

“Oh?” he thought, pricking up his ears.

“Help! Help! Mr. Oe, help me!” The scream—shameless and unrestrained—was indeed Natsuko Kitagawa, the widow. He couldn’t abandon her. Rando stood up as if in a dream and ran out into the corridor. At the end of the corridor, the maids were packed tightly together, unable to move forward, and pointed at the room across the way. Undeniably, the scream pleading for help was coming from behind that door.

He abruptly opened the door and plunged into the room.

“Damn you! You were still holed up here!”

He inadvertently cried out and grabbed the back of a nearby chair.

It was the Gorilla-like Man. The Gorilla-like Man was straddling Natsuko and strangling her throat. Natsuko tore the hem of her sky-blue dress as she resisted, frantically struggling. “Don’t interfere.” “You—get the hell over there!” The thief, crimson as a demon, glared at Rando with terrifying eyes and growled in broken snarls.

“Stop.” “If you don’t stop—I’ll beat you to death!”

Rando raised the chair and prepared to strike down from above the Gorilla-like Man’s head. “Hurry, hurry! Smash him with it!”

Natsuko twisted her face obscenely and screamed in gasping breaths. “Ugh! Take this!”

Rando brought the raised chair down with all his strength. “Gyah!”

A bestial scream—"Gyah!"—rang out. The Gorilla-like Man, struck in the shoulder, finally stood up from atop Natsuko—then turned toward Rando, gnashing his large white teeth and emitting a terrifying growl as he lunged at him in the posture of a great ape.

The beast and the man locked together in a single mass, rolling across the floor. Rando had some knowledge of judo, but against this beast, it proved utterly useless. After being thrown once, twice, three times, he ended up pinned beneath the Gorilla-like Man. “You cocky brat—I’ll strangle you dead!” The Gorilla-like Man’s hairy hands began slowly and steadily strangling his throat. Rando had already exhausted his strength and had no energy left to fight back. His ruddy face, being strangled, rapidly swelled and turned purple.

“Heh heh… How’s that feel, brat? Suffocating?” “Just a little more patience.” “Soon you’ll black out and reach paradise.” “Any last words?” “Heh heh heh! Couldn’t speak ’em even if you tried!”

The brute, cruelly releasing and strangling, releasing and strangling, gradually increased the force of both hands.

And then, suddenly, no sooner had the crack of a gunshot rung out than the room’s window glass shattered into pieces. “Now let go—let go of those hands! If you don’t, next it’ll be your back.” Behind the two locked in combat, Widow Natsuko Kitagawa—now gripping a small pistol—stood braced with every ounce of her strength, teeth clenched. The hand gripping the pistol trembled unsteadily. Even the most formidable beast was no match for a firearm. The Gorilla-like Man reluctantly released his hands and stood up, then began inching backward toward the door.

“Mr. Oe, please pull yourself together. Are you all right?”

Natsuko kept the pistol aimed as she leaned over the fallen Rando and shouted. Rando rubbed his throat and slowly rose to his feet. He wasn’t beaten yet. Upon standing up, he shouted loudly and ran out.

“Wait, damn you! I won’t let you escape this time!”

While Natsuko was distracted by Rando, the Gorilla-like Man had slipped out through the door. Rando dashed out into the hallway in pursuit. The Gorilla-like Man hunched his back and scuttled crab-like down the straight hallway. But whether from confusion or panic, he fled in the direction opposite the entrance. The end of the hallway was a room. The Gorilla-like Man suddenly opened that door and hid inside. Without a moment’s delay, Rando also plunged through the same door.

It appeared to be a guest bedroom—starkly plain, containing nothing but a bed, a small desk, two chairs, and a small chest of drawers. The only place for a person to hide was nowhere except under the bed. The windows were locked from the inside. Moreover, iron bars were visible outside the glass window.

Nevertheless, when Rando rushed in and looked, there was no trace of him there. Needless to say, he looked under the bed. Behind the outer chest, behind the door—nowhere was the Gorilla-like Man to be seen. Strange. The monster had vanished like smoke.

At that moment, Natsuko timidly entered the room.

“He vanished. Surely there isn’t a secret door in this room, is there?” Rando asked vacantly. “There is no such thing. He really did flee into this room.” “That’s certain. By a split second after he did, I rushed in. It was a mere five or six seconds’ difference. And he had vanished without a trace.” Rando still felt as though he were trapped in a nightmare.

Rando still felt as though he were being tormented by a nightmare.

Then, after a long while, they searched every nook and cranny—not just that bedroom, but every single room, down to the corners of the kitchen—yet not a soul emerged, let alone even a single cat.

Was the Gorilla-like Man using ninjutsu? Or had he mastered some form of sorcery unknown to the human world—a dark art of the ape tribes? But no matter how inhuman a creature he was, there was no way he could have turned into smoke and vanished. There must have been some sort of deception there to obscure it from view. What that deception was would surely come to light in time.

The Bathtub Apparition

Once again requesting the police to come to the residence, a search was conducted as before—but to no avail—and by the time the commotion subsided and the host and guest once again faced each other in the same dining room as before, it was already past nine o’clock at night.

“Thank you very much. If you hadn’t been here, Mr. Oe, I don’t think I could be sitting here talking like this now.”

Natsuko had the table cleared， offered Rando tea， and finally began to speak in a composed manner. “No， I’m the one． If you hadn’t fired that pistol when you did， I would have been killed． Still， I have to say I’m impressed by your decisive action． That’s no small feat．”

Rando felt genuine gratitude for his life being saved and lavished praise upon Natsuko.

“Oh my, what should I do? I showed you such a shameful sight... But if I hadn’t done that, you would have been in danger.” “That’s right—it was dangerous. He was seriously trying to kill me.” “It’s mutual, isn’t it? You help me, and I saved you—that’s how it is between us. I somehow can’t help but feel it wasn’t a coincidence. I’d had a strange premonition that something like this would happen someday.”

This young widow appeared utterly delighted by their mutual acts of saving and being saved.

“Um… though it must be terribly inconvenient… well… would you please stay here tonight? The student lodger hasn’t returned yet either, and if even you aren’t here to stay, Mr. Oe, I simply can’t bring myself to sleep in this house. Please, won’t you? Besides, returning to Tokyo at this hour would be quite troublesome for you.”

Natsuko said coquettishly and looked up at Rando. “Well, I would be grateful if you were to let me stay, but it’s rather rude to impose on a lady living alone by herself.” “Then I’ll take my leave as soon as the student lodger returns.” “It’s fine even if the train has already left.” “Because I have friends in Kamakura too.”

Rando said with a genuinely troubled expression. “Oh, you’re so uptight.” “You shouldn’t make me feel ashamed.” Natsuko lowered her voice to a whisper, narrowed her eyes, and put on a resentful pout. Ah, how alluring she was! Rando felt as though he were gradually losing confidence.

“Pull yourself together—you mustn’t succumb to temptation! You have a sweetheart to whom you’ve pledged your heart, haven’t you? Even if only for an instant, how could you forget Kyoko Hanazono? To think you’d weigh that lovely, pure maiden against this brazen middle-aged woman in your heart—what a contemptible degenerate you are!” “Well, there’s nothing to be done then,” she said. “At least until the student lodger returns… You must be exhausted, Mr. Oe. And you’ve worked up a sweat—why don’t you take a bath? I had them prepare it earlier—it should be ready by now.”

Natsuko once again altered her approach and pressed closer alluringly. “No, I’ll manage that once I’m back home. Please don’t hold back on my account.”

Rando battled within himself and, growing increasingly resolute, said.

“Well then, I’ll excuse myself for a moment. It’s truly improper to ask you to stand guard while I take a bath, but I’ve become so disheveled that I’m ashamed to even face you, so I’ll just wash my face. It’ll only take a moment, so I’m terribly sorry, but please do wait for me, won’t you?”

Natsuko said something coquettish and, upon seeing Rando nod, hurriedly left for the bathroom.

And after a short while—Ah, what a day of horrors this was.

Once again, from the direction of what seemed to be the bathroom, a shrill scream rang out. Could that Gorilla-like Man have been lying in wait there this time? The moment this thought crossed his mind, Rando felt utterly exasperated. The scream kept continuing without end. The maids were so terrified that instead of going to help their mistress, they fled from before the bathroom while screaming incoherently: “Something’s wrong! Madam—Madam!” He couldn’t simply abandon this situation. Though the bathroom was an exceedingly troublesome place, now wasn’t the time for voicing such complaints or hesitating. Moreover, Rando bore accumulated grudges against that Gorilla-like Man.

Rando asked the maid where the bathroom was, rushed to the spot, and suddenly flung open the door. But when he threw open the door and took in the bathroom at a glance, he gasped, felt a wave of dizziness, and stood frozen in place. There, jumbled and countless lumps of flesh were squirming. A kaleidoscope of human flesh spread across his entire field of vision, uncannily yet beautifully unfurled. Startled by the sheer bizarreness of it all, for a moment he couldn’t tell whether this was a dream or reality, but when he finally regained his composure and looked closely, he began to understand the bathroom’s peculiar structure.

The bathroom was an octagonal room made entirely of mirrors. Without any seams—constructed solely from thick glass panels that formed an octagon around the bathtub, with even its ceiling fashioned from the same mirrored surfaces—it was essentially a colossal kaleidoscope. This structure had likely been erected not merely for bathing purposes but as a sort of pleasure chamber, born from the extravagant whimsy of Natsuko’s late husband who reveled in the bizarre. The eight-sided mirrors reflected one another endlessly, casting images of dozens—no, hundreds—of nude figures. With every slight movement these reflections made, it resembled someone twisting a kaleidoscope, making grotesque floral patterns of flesh bloom in countless variations.

Natsuko Kitagawa, who had been standing up in the bathtub screaming, flushed with embarrassment upon seeing Rando’s face, hurriedly submerged her body back into the water—leaving only her head exposed—and cried out. “Mr. Oe—this… this here! Such a terrifying thing was bobbing grotesquely in the hot water!”

So, this time it wasn’t the Gorilla-like Man?

“Excuse me. “The maids were too frightened to approach.” “...What was floating in there?”

Rando, slightly embarrassed and offering apologies, asked in return. “This! This!” Natsuko pointed disgustedly at an object in the corner of the bathtub, but finding herself unable to endure sharing the same water with it, she resolutely grabbed the thing and flung it out of the tub. In that instant, Natsuko’s hand became three. Fingers splayed into five parts—fifteen in total—reflected across eight mirrors, transforming into countless writhing wrists.

The object that had been flung into the sink area was unmistakably a human wrist. It was a horrifying fresh arm severed at the elbow. There it lay on the white tiles, trembling ceaselessly like konjac jelly.

This was no ordinary matter. It couldn’t have fallen from the sky, nor could it have sprung forth from the water faucet. Someone had stealthily thrown it in and left it there. It was no random someone. It had to be that Gorilla-like Man. When that bastard escaped, he left it behind as a parting gift.

But since there was a severed arm lying here, there had to be someone from whom it had been cut. So had they once again committed some horrific murder? "Oh—there's something written on this wrist. It looks like a tattoo." Rando involuntarily stepped into the bathroom and peered at the mysterious fresh wrist. "K-King... of... Terror. Ah... Just as I thought. It's their doing. This wrist has a tattoo of the King of Terror."

Yet another message of demonic propaganda. “Oh! …Where?” Natsuko, losing all composure, came flying out of the bathtub. In the eight mirrors, images of the completely nude beautiful woman from every angle writhed sinuously—seductive, or rather, terrifying. A truly astonishing thing had occurred. The youthful widow’s lushly alluring nude body now lay exposed before Rando’s eyes. Skin flushed and glossy from the bath’s warmth; dewdrops invisible to the eye glistening on each strand of peach fuzz; deep shadowed lines contouring her entire body—these became hundreds upon thousands of images across the mirrored surfaces: some turned away, some sideways, some facing frontward—all quivering and shifting.

Had this been an ordinary situation, Natsuko would have wanted to vanish from shame, and Rando would have immediately covered his eyes and fled—but this was no ordinary moment. Before the two of them lay a fresh human wrist. All sense of shame, awkwardness, even carnal desire had vanished into thin air—their hearts now completely occupied by eerie dread and terror.

Perhaps deciding there was no use in continuing like this, Rando bent over the fresh wrist and, suppressing his revulsion, pinched it up between two fingers.

When he held it up to the light and examined it closely, it was unmistakably a woman’s—and moreover, a young woman’s—wrist. “Oh! How dreadful. Someone must have been killed.” Even when Natsuko called out to him, Rando remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the fingertips of the severed wrist. Gradually, gradually, his complexion began to change. His eyes flew open so wide they seemed ready to burst from their sockets, his mouth hung agape, and his breathing grew increasingly violent. “Oh! What’s happened to you? Sensei! Sensei!”

Natsuko, alarmed by his abnormal state, forgot her own nakedness and pressed close to Rando as she cried out. “I recognize this finger.” “Huh? What do you mean?” “Ah… How horrifying. I know who this arm belongs to. I hope I’m mistaken. But surely not…”

Rando trailed off and staggered as if to collapse.

Ah, who could the owner of this fresh wrist—which had so unsettled even a man of his stature—possibly be? And had his dreadful speculation truly struck true?

The Young Lady’s Disappearance

Rando Oe had recognized the small scar on the little finger of that fresh wrist.

He turned deathly pale and shouted.

“I know who owns this arm. It’s someone I’m intimately acquainted with. Mrs. Kitagawa, I can’t remain here any longer. You’ll have to excuse me.” Rando tried to bolt headlong from the bathroom. “Wait! Please wait! If you go, I’ll be too terrified to stay in this house alone. Wait—take me with you!” Natsuko—her naked body still dripping and glistening from the bath, all shame forgotten—chased after the young man and seized his arm.

“Who is that person? That woman you’re close to…?” “She’s Count Hanazono’s daughter. I can’t rest until I confirm it for myself.”

Rando shook off Natsuko’s hand and took another step toward the door. “Your lover?” “Huh? Is that so?”

Natsuko, using her tenacious feminine strength, grabbed Rando’s shoulders and twisted him around to face her. With her face and fully exposed body, she struck an indescribably seductive pose. Rando stared fixedly at it—stared fixedly at the young woman’s shockingly bold physical display. Then he shuddered in terror. There was an intoxicatingly sweet smell that made his nerves tingle, a slick slippery texture against his skin, and a gigantic pink flower that seemed to burst into lewd bloom through every inch of its disheveled form.

“I’m sorry. I can’t stay like this. I must return to Tokyo immediately and confirm this for myself.” Muttering deliriously, Rando glanced around frantically. Then his gaze fell upon the large bath towel hanging on one side of the room like a godsend. He abruptly grabbed it, snapped it open with a flourish, and swiftly wrapped up the obscene flower blooming before him.

“Mrs. Kitagawa, I must take my leave now.” “Please gather the maids and keep them talking until the student lodger returns.” “And if you just call them, the police will come right away.” “It’s okay. It’s okay.” “It’s okay.”

With each word he backed away, until finally he opened the door. Then, leaving Natsuko’s resentful voice behind, he hurried out to the entrance in a flurry. As he raced through the late-night streets toward the station, a conveniently empty taxi happened to pass by, so he quickly settled on the fare to Tokyo Kōjimachi and leapt inside.

After racing headlong through the shadowed avenue and arriving at the Count’s residence in Kōjimachi around eleven o’clock at night—though this was no hour for social niceties—he leapt from the car and urgently pressed the gate’s electric bell.

As if he had been lying in wait, the student lodger rushed out and guided him to the parlor. There, the lights were still burning brightly. Before long, the Count and his wife appeared together. "Is Kyoko-san safe? If something has happened..." When Rando saw the Count, he dispensed with greetings and first asked that question.

“Oh, you already know about it?” “Thank you for coming.” “I’m at my wit’s end too.”

It was the Count’s reply. Though Count Hanazono had not yet noticed anything about Oe and Kyoko’s overly close relationship, since he had invited Rando to tea gatherings and such as a novelist whom Kyoko admired, he was well aware that Rando possessed considerable skill in matters like criminal investigation. “So then... What is her condition?”

When he asked whether Kyoko was injured and resting in her room or had been hospitalized, Count Hanazono looked puzzled, “Huh? Her condition?” “Have you heard something about this?” “As for me, forget her condition—I don’t even know where she is.” “What’s more, she disappeared like smoke while everyone in the house remained oblivious to her leaving.”

Around ten o'clock that morning, a visitor came to Kyoko's place. He was a strange bearded warrior of a man wearing large Lloyd glasses. Having brought a letter to deliver to Kyoko, when the student lodger passed it to her, she read the letter and instructed them to show him in, directing him to be guided to her parlor. After talking for about fifteen minutes, the strange man left, but according to the student lodger who saw him out at that time, there was nothing unusual about his demeanor.

About an hour later, when the maid went to Kyoko’s parlor to notify her of lunch, since Kyoko was nowhere to be seen despite being expected there, a commotion ensued, and they searched every corner of the mansion, but there was no trace of her—as if she had evaporated.

When they checked, her outdoor clothes were all properly arranged, and not a single pair of footwear was missing. It was unthinkable that a young woman would go out barefoot. Since they found the earlier visitor suspicious, they searched for the letter he had brought—but even that letter seemed to have vanished without a trace. They phoned Kyoko’s friends and relatives to inquire, but she hadn’t gone anywhere. They had also enlisted the police’s help, but there was still no good news. With no other recourse left, everyone in the house could only exchange pale-faced glances and sigh.

It was then that detective novelist Rando Oe came bursting in. It was only natural that the Count and Countess Hanazono ushered him in as if they had been lying in wait.

“So when that strange man left, Kyoko-san remained in the parlor, correct? Did you notice anything unusual at that time?” After hearing the full account of the young lady’s disappearance, Rando Oe questioned the student lodger present at the scene. “Nothing in particular…” The student lodger answered. “I didn’t actually see the young lady’s face myself. When the doorbell rang, I went to check, and from behind the door, she said, ‘Please escort this gentleman out.’ Then that man opened the door himself and emerged, so I simply led the way and showed him to the entrance.”

“And then, you didn’t go back to the young lady’s room again?” “Yes, I just went into the student lodger’s room beside the entrance and was reading a book.”

“So, from when the maid went to notify her of lunch until she discovered the young lady’s room was empty, you were in the student lodger’s room the entire time?” “Yes, that’s correct. From the student lodger’s room, you can see not just the entrance but all the way to the gate, yet the young lady never once passed through there. While I was reading, I was constantly paying attention to anyone passing through the gate, you know.”

“You’re certain there’s no mistake?” “Yes, without question. “As long as the young lady did not go out by climbing over the garden wall or some such means, it is utterly inconceivable that she couldn’t be seen.” “It’s truly mysterious.” In the King of Terror’s cases, “mystery” was an inherent part. There was no longer any reason to be surprised. “In that case, could you show me the young lady’s parlor once?”

Rando remarked like a seasoned detective and rose from his chair.

One-Handed Beauty

Kyoko’s parlor was a Western-style room of about ten tatami mats. In one corner were placed a writing desk with carvings, a swivel chair, bookshelves, and other items; in another corner stood an extravagant vanity; and in yet another corner, a large upright piano gleamed black.

Rando entered the room with the Count and Countess, but true to his reputation as a detective novelist, he first fixed his gaze on the carpet. A splendid russet carpet with black patterns, deep and soft. He walked around on it, carefully examining every inch, but when he came to a stop at a certain spot, he swiftly stooped—

“What is this?”

he tested the spot by pressing it with his finger.

Because the carpet was dark-colored, he hadn’t noticed it, but upon closer inspection, there was indeed a large, faint stain.

Rando moistened his index finger with saliva, rubbed the carpet firmly, then held the finger up to the electric light to examine it.

“Look here. “It’s blood.” “Just as I thought.” He said, his pale face twisted with intense emotion. “Huh? Blood, you say?” “Then Kyoko might have… Ah! You know everything, don’t you?” “Please tell me at once!” “Was she killed?”

Countess Hanazono's voice dissolved into sobs and she began shrieking.

“No, I don’t know everything.” “But…” “But what do you mean?” “However, in a certain place, I did see Kyoko-san’s right arm.” “I saw the young lady’s wrist—one I unmistakably recognized.” “The length of the arm cut off at the elbow.” “Good heavens!” With that cry, Countess Hanazono collapsed into her chair, too drained to utter another word, and buried her face in her hands. “Where was that? You’re not lying to me, are you?”

The Count’s voice was strained. “I hoped it was just my misunderstanding and rushed here to your mansion with my heart in turmoil.” “However, given the state of this blood, that must indeed be the case.” “Kyoko-san was done in by the ‘King of Terror.’” “Wh-wh-what did you just say?” “Who did this to her?”

“King of Terror. “You know of him. “The murderous King of Terror who’s been terrorizing society. “On the young lady’s arm—‘King of Terror’ had been tattooed.”

The instant a strange, hollow moan escaped her, Countess Hanazono’s body slumped limply from the chair. She had lost consciousness from the sheer shock. Thereupon, they called for the maids and student lodgers, made her drink reviving brandy, and a great commotion ensued; however, the Countess soon regained consciousness and still wanted to hear the frightening story. Even when the Count urged her to go to her bedroom, she would not consent until she knew whether her daughter was alive or dead.

“This is what I think.”

When the commotion subsided, Rando continued speaking. “The man with Lloyd glasses who came to visit Kyoko-san was undoubtedly one of the King of Terror’s gang. They kept the young lady from making a sound in this room, severed her right arm, took it back, tattooed it somewhere, and then flaunted it to me.” “It’s their game of utmost cruelty.” “It’s an advertisement for murder.” However, what’s puzzling is that while they could have taken just the arm without attracting attention, where did they dispose of Kyoko-san’s corpse… no, we can’t definitively say it’s a corpse… her body? This was the first mystery.

“Then there’s another point—when the student lodger came to this door, he was ordered from inside by the young lady’s voice to see off the guest. A gravely injured person whose arm had been severed couldn’t possibly speak so normally.” “In that case, should we assume Kyoko-san’s arm was cut off after that moment, meaning the strange man from earlier has no connection to this incident?” “No, no—that’s almost certainly incorrect. The criminals staged an elaborate performance to complicate the investigation. They themselves imitated the young lady’s voice. I’ve had an idea about how they did it.”

“The King of Terror once stole the corpse of a young woman named Teruko Nunobiki directly from her coffin. Then they dressed the corpse in a furisode and staged a mock wedding ceremony. Later, when Teruko-san’s father went out in his car at night, the supposedly dead Teruko leaned out of a passing vehicle’s window and called to him in her living voice: ‘Father!’ Looking back now, that was indeed masterful voice mimicry after all. Perhaps the criminals have mastered that ventriloquism—the secret art of magicians.”

Rando Oe continued talking as he paced in circles around the room, examining the desks, dressers, and other furniture by looking them over and running his fingers across their surfaces—until finally stopping before the piano and lifting its lid.

I wonder if I’ll ever hear Kyoko-san’s beautiful voice again. Muttering to himself like a mischievous child, he tapped one of the white keys with a playful *plink*. Then, a strange, flat sound—devoid of any resonance—reverberated with a metallic *geen*. “Hmm? What’s going on here?”

When he struck another key, it produced the same metallic *geen*.

“This is no time for playing the piano. “Mr. Oe, we must inform the police about this immediately.” The Count flew into a rage upon seeing Rando’s carefree-seeming mischief. “Is this piano damaged?” “It’s not producing any tone at all.”

Rando was still fixated on the piano. “What does that matter now?”

“No, that’s not the case.” “There’s something very strange about this.” “I’ve never heard a piano that makes such a bizarre sound.” As he spoke, Rando now raked his fingers wildly across the keyboard from end to end. Clang-clunk, clang-clunk, clang-clunk… An indescribably eerie sound resounded throughout the room. But—ah—what was that? Amidst the metallic clamor, a shrill, flute-like voice—broken and intermittent—began echoing from nowhere at all.

“Oh!” Rando recoiled with a shudder, pulling his hand back from the keys.

However, the piano did not fall silent. The flute-like voice continued endlessly. The reverberation lingered far too long. Moreover, it carried a tone that somehow seemed to gouge at one’s heart. “It’s a human voice, without a doubt.”

Rando exchanged glances with the Count and Countess and whispered in a hushed voice. “But there’s no one here, is there?” The Count looked around the room with a look of revulsion.

“No—it’s inside here.” “Wh-what? Inside the piano?”

“It’s probably the person we’ve been searching for.”

Having said that, Rando turned the screws on the painted panel at the bottom of the piano and effortlessly opened it.

“Ah! Kyoko-san, stay with us!”

Inside the piano’s body, Kyoko had been crammed in an awkwardly contorted position. The vibration of the piano strings roused her unconscious nerves, drawing out a faint moan of pain. This became that uncanny flute-like sound leaking outward. Rando Oe gathered his lover’s limp form and laid it upon the carpet. The Count and Countess rushed over, stooping above their daughter as they desperately called her name.

“Ah! She seems to have come to.” “Mr. Oe, Kyoko has opened her eyes!” Kyoko, whom they had been certain was murdered, was after all unharmed. The parents’ delirious joy was only natural. Upon closer inspection, her right hand had indeed been injured. Fortunately, the thieves had tightly bound the wound to prevent blood from dripping—the bleeding wasn’t too severe, and she had narrowly survived.

“Oh, she’s holding something like this in her left hand.” “Ah! This is the letter that man brought.” “Mr. Oe, please take a look at this.” As the Count took it out and held it forward, Rando unsealed it and began reading aloud.

The man who brought this letter is a friend of mine. Regarding that matter, there is something I must discuss with you. Because I couldn’t go myself, I had this man come to you. Please be sure to meet with him and hear out the details. Rando Ms. Kyoko “Damn it! They’ve stolen my name.” “Of course I have no recollection of writing such a letter.” As Rando finished reading the letter and was about to fold it, he casually glanced at its back and noticed large, crude characters scrawled there in red pencil.

“Oh! What’s this?” When he read it, this was indeed the genuine thief’s left-behind note. It was a threatening letter.

Kyoko, I’ll spare your life. But as of today, you must sever all ties with Rando Oe. You must not speak with him. You must not write letters either. If you disobey this command, know that this time you will not survive. King of Terror

King of Terror What in the world did this mean? Rando could not understand its meaning.

"Is their goal to make Kyoko cut ties and torment me?" But even without resorting to such convoluted methods, there ought to be countless other ways to eliminate me. Or were they saying this because they feared my detective abilities? "No—it seems their intentions aren’t limited to that alone."

No matter how much I thought, I couldn’t understand. Behind this difficult-to-understand message, I sensed there lurked some terrible secret. “No, such things don’t matter at all. Rather than that, Ms. Kyoko’s health is what’s important. We must call a doctor immediately.” Rando said as he put the thief’s letter into his pocket.

The Squirming One

It was about a month later that Kyoko’s wound healed and she returned home from the hospital. During that time, Rando Oe, fearing harm from the thieves, even refrained from visiting his lover. When Natsuko Kitagawa of Kamakura learned of Kyoko’s incident, she immediately visited Rando to offer her condolences. Of course, she herself underwent police questioning regarding that incident with the tattooed severed arm and suffered no small amount of trouble.

“All three of us are being tormented by the same enemy, aren’t we?” “What a heinous monster that King of Terror is!” “We must join forces to stop that fiend.” She spoke in that manner. And then, “Now I’ve completely figured out your secret. “Kyoko-san, she’s your lover, isn’t she?” “Right? Isn’t that so?” “Ohohohoho!” She also said something suggestive. When Rando spoke about the thief’s threatening letter,

“Oh! So that’s why you haven’t been visiting the hospital! “And that’s why you’re wearing such a gloomy face! “How dreadful for you. “Ah! I’ve got an idea. “I’ll visit her on your behalf. “I’ll become your living letter and convey every word exactly as you say, Sensei. “There now—that’s fine, isn’t it?” she added. Natsuko would visit Kyoko at the hospital, and on her return trip invariably stop by Rando’s apartment, where she would theatrically exaggerate how desperately Kyoko longed to see him—all while teasing the young writer.

As their meetings grew more frequent, the reserve between Rando and Natsuko gradually dissolved. United by their shared enemy, even Rando found himself unable to bluntly rebuff this alluring widow's advances. The pair would sit facing each other in a room of the apartment, engrossed in lengthy conversations. Natsuko brought Western liquor and delicacies, prolonging her stays in Rando's quarters whenever possible. Once intoxicated, their talk inevitably took on increasingly suggestive tones.

He couldn’t meet Kyoko, yet he was constantly meeting Natsuko, and on top of that, she was so alluring that Rando had begun to feel anxious—if this situation continued, wouldn’t something unforgivable happen concerning Kyoko? But without any particular incident, the day of Kyoko’s discharge arrived. From Count Hanazono came a congratulatory letter celebrating her discharge. Rando could no longer endure it and visited the Count’s mansion, where he saw Kyoko’s face and heard her voice for the first time in a long while.

Kyoko was lying on the large bed in her father Count Hanazono’s bedroom. She had not yet recovered enough strength to get up. The Count’s bedroom had been chosen because it was the safest place in the mansion. On the very day of Kyoko’s discharge from the hospital, the Count had to depart on a two- or three-day trip, so he further tightened security by enlisting two brawny young men—friends of the student lodgers—to stand guard in three-person shifts at the bedroom entrance. Out of concern that he might overly excite the patient, Rando insisted on leaving the bedroom despite Kyoko’s attempts to stop him; but upon seeing the stringent security measures, he felt reassured that no bizarre thief, however formidable, would be able to make a move.

When he returned to his apartment, Natsuko Kitagawa was once again waiting in his room. “You went to visit Kyoko-san, didn’t you?” “Sensei, are you all right?” “Hasn’t the thief declared that anyone who utters even a word will lose their life?” “It wasn’t dangerous, was it?”

She said this half out of jealousy, half to frighten him.

“No, that’s perfectly safe. Three student lodgers skilled in judo are keeping watch around the clock. The room itself is the innermost bedroom—a supremely secure location with no entrances or exits outside its door. And every window has been fitted with iron bars.”

When Rando said this,

“Ohohohoho! Do you really think such trifles would make the King of Terror falter?” “It’s pointless.” “To him, entrances or none, guards or none—such things mean less than dust in his eyes.” “He’s a sorcerer through and through.” “Mark my words—nothing dangerous will happen tonight.”

And indeed, she proceeded to say even more unpleasant things. There, the two of them vigorously debated the King of Terror’s capabilities, but a beautiful woman only grows more radiant the fiercer her emotions become. Moreover, in Natsuko’s case, that signature seductive charm of a widow permeated her every move, so tormenting him was no simple matter.

In the end, they talked until evening, and after leaving behind an excuse for another visit, Natsuko departed. But around midnight, her words proved ominously prophetic, and something terrible occurred.

Rando Oe, who had already gone to bed, was awakened by the shrill ring of the telephone. When he picked up the receiver, the caller abruptly: “Oe, go immediately to Kyoko Hanazono’s place.” “And witness just how precisely your enemy honors his promises.” “You surely haven’t forgotten the warning note written in red pencil that Kyoko-san was clutching.” “Now, go at once and see for yourself.” He continued talking all by himself and hung up without waiting for a response.

And with that, he continued talking on his own and hung up without waiting for a response. This was no mere prank. Something had happened to Kyoko.

Rando immediately made preparations to go out and rushed to Count Hanazono’s mansion. Along the way, it suddenly struck him—could this be the thief’s doing? He wondered if some trap had been laid, but he had no leisure to consider such possibilities. All that consumed him was an airless anxiety over Kyoko’s safety.

When he arrived and looked, the Count’s mansion was already deep in slumber. Since the Count was away on a trip, he had the Countess roused and explained about the phone call, whereupon the Countess—

“My daughter is sleeping peacefully.” “I’ve only just finished making my rounds to check on her.”

With a puzzled look. So, thinking it had indeed been nothing more than an empty threat after all, he breathed a momentary sigh of relief; however, deciding to err on the side of caution, he resolved to inspect the bedroom once more with the Countess. When they inquired with the student lodger keeping vigil at the room’s entrance, he likewise reported no abnormalities.

The two of them unlocked the door and stealthily slipped into the bedroom. When they looked, around the large bed hung a thin silk canopy from the ceiling like a mosquito net, within which Kyoko’s face could be faintly seen sleeping peacefully.

“She is sleeping soundly.” “There has been no change at all from when I checked earlier.” The Countess heaved a sigh of relief. Rando pressed his face unceremoniously against the thin silk, peering at Kyoko’s sleeping face, but then—having noticed something—seized the Countess’s arm with sudden urgency. “Madam, look. “At Kyoko-san’s sleeping face. “Isn’t it too still? “And that pallor—what do you make of it?”

“Huh? What are you saying?” The Countess started and stared at Rando.

“Madam, just to be safe, please try waking Kyoko-san. Something seems off.”

Without needing to be told, the Countess parted the thin silk canopy, approached the bed, and gently shook Kyoko's body from over the white blanket. "Kyoko-san! Kyoko-san!"

But there was no reply. The Countess frantically searched for her daughter’s left hand beneath the blanket and grasped it. Cold—just like ice.

“Kyoko-san, what’s wrong? Kyoko-san! Kyoko-san!”

The Countess, now in a near-frenzied state, pulled hard on the hand she held. Then something truly horrific occurred. The Countess fell onto her backside with a loud thud. Still clutching Kyoko’s left hand. It was a grotesquely comical sight. That very fact made it all the more horrifying. Just as a doll’s arm might snap off, Kyoko’s hand slipped cleanly out. Around the severed end, layers upon layers of white cloth had been wrapped, and the bleeding had been stopped. Rando left the fallen Countess where she was and suddenly threw back the blanket on the bed to look. Under the blanket lay Kyoko’s mutilated corpse, both hands severed. Breath and pulse had ceased entirely. Covered by the blanket, they had gone completely unnoticed until then; now, however, the sheets were gruesomely stained with blood.

“Hey, someone get over here!”

When he shouted loudly, the two student lodgers on watch came running in. And when they saw Kyoko’s state, they let out a gasp and stood frozen in place. Something utterly impossible had been carried out. The two student lodgers had not left their post for even a single moment. Apart from the Countess herself, not even a single kitten had entered the bedroom. Nor had anyone left. The window’s iron bars were undamaged, and there was nothing suspicious about the floorboards or ceiling. “If no one has left this room, then the culprit must still be inside. You all, search for them!”

But even if he told them to search, where else could they possibly look now? Under the bed was completely visible, and outside there wasn’t a single spot where a person could hide. The student lodgers stood dumbfounded, staring at Rando’s face.

Rando smiled wryly at his own words, yet seemingly unable to abandon hope, began pacing restlessly about the room. As he paced—perhaps having lost his mental equilibrium—he tripped on the edge of the carpet, staggered unsteadily, and lurched against the door of the safe embedded in the wall there. Then, strangely enough, perhaps the safe door hadn’t been properly closed—it gave a faint click and seemed to shift ever so slightly.

The Count had installed a safe in the bedroom as a precaution against theft. However, in any household, safes were always kept sealed. Moreover, since one couldn't open it without knowing the combination, they had disregarded the safe when searching for the thieves. But if that door truly hadn't been closed... Could those vile thieves have killed Kyoko-san and even stolen the money?

“Madam, wasn’t this safe closed?”

When he hurriedly asked, the Countess—who had been clinging to her daughter’s corpse and weeping—finally raised her face. “No, my husband was supposed to have securely closed it. Moreover, no one besides my husband knows the combination, so it shouldn’t have opened, but…” she answered with a puzzled look.

“But it seems it truly wasn’t properly closed.” “May I open it to check?” “Yes, please do.”

Having obtained the Countess’s permission, Rando placed his fingers on the safe’s handle. And then, just as he began to open it slightly—as if startled—he snapped it tightly shut again. “What’s the matter?” Rando’s expression was so peculiar that the Countess asked in alarm. “Hahahaha! We’ve caught them, Countess! There’s no chance of them escaping now. The culprit is hiding inside this safe. When I tried to open the door just now, there was a strange resistance. I felt something squirming within the thick iron plates.”

Upon hearing this, the two student lodgers assumed a defensive stance, approached the safe, and tried to open the door. “Wait,” “There’s no need to rush opening it.” “First, call the police.” “And it won’t be too late to prepare properly for the capture first.” “They’re already cornered rats.” Rando declared triumphantly, rubbing his hands together.

“Still, choosing a safe as your hiding place was an odd decision.” “Those guys sneaked into this room before you began your watch, hid in the safe, and waited for their moment to come.” “Still, since I’ve now completely shut the door that had a gap for ventilation, those guys will start feeling suffocated and come bursting out any moment now.” “Just watch!” A call was promptly made to the police. The student lodgers prepared sticks and ropes and took up positions in front of the safe.

Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes—the suffocating moments dragged on slowly and laboriously. Sure enough, no sooner had a strange rustling sound come from inside the safe than the door suddenly began to creak open, pushed from within.

“Gah!” A scream of unknowable origin erupted.

The thief finally could no longer endure and leapt out into enemy territory of his own volition. Dowry of 100,000 yen The safe door burst open from within. Then something resembling a dark lump came flying out like a cannonball. “Ah! Gorilla!” “So it was you!” Rando spread his arms wide to grapple with this human projectile. It was none other than that repulsive Gorilla-like Man—a kindred fiend of the King of Terror. The two student lodgers holding sticks came clattering over. Countess Hanazono pressed both hands to her face and crouched in the room’s corner.

But the thief was so robust and swift that one might have mistaken him for an actual gorilla. With a “Gyaa!”—a simian shriek—he shoved the approaching Rando aside and fled behind the bed. On top of that bed lay Kyoko-san’s corpse, still and unmoving. “It’s fine—there’s no way he’ll escape now. “There’s only one exit.” “Now, Gorilla, come out!” Rando spread both hands like the demon in a game of tag and took a vigilant stance, leaving no opening.

“You two, flank him from both sides. Well, it’s fine. He doesn’t have a weapon. There’s nothing to be afraid of at all!”

Following Rando’s instructions, the two student lodgers—one on each side—advanced toward the far side of the bed from left and right. The Gorilla-like Man was now utterly cornered. There was a window behind him, but it had sturdy iron bars. Even if he tried to crawl under the bed to escape, Rando stood blocking the way beyond it. Moreover, the enemies on both sides were brandishing thick sticks and closing in moment by moment. But this beast did not panic in the slightest. A chilling smile spread across the Gorilla-like Man’s vicious face as he glared at Rando with blazing eyes.

“Hahaha… You think I don’t have a weapon?” “When you say ‘weapon’—a pistol? Or maybe a short sword?” “Hey, Rando! Can’t you see this?” “Look! Here’s such a splendid weapon—”

The Gorilla-like Man rasped in a voice like a cracked bell. Just when they thought he would keep screeching mindlessly, this beast revealed he knew human speech. No sooner had he spoken than he vaulted onto the bed with blinding speed. Oh! What's this brute doing? "Look! Here's my weapon!"

The Gorilla-like Man suddenly placed both hands on Kyoko’s corpse—one at her neck and the other at her thigh—and effortlessly hoisted it up to chest level. A human shield.

“Ah! What are you doing?” “Let go!” “If you don’t let go—” “Hahaha… So if I don’t let go, are you saying you’ll send some projectile my way, huh?” “But this young lady will protect me.” “Now, Rando—you bastard—get out of the way!” “And clear my path back.” “No?” “If you say no—look! Like this! Like this!” The Gorilla-like Man bared his teeth, snarling threateningly as he tightened his grip on her neck and thigh with a forceful squeeze, bending the young lady’s corpse into an arch like a bow. It bent so far that her spine seemed on the verge of snapping with a crack.

Then, from one corner of the room, a scream like tearing silk erupted. Turning around, they saw Countess Hanazono staring fixedly at the Gorilla-like Man’s hands with bulging eyes, her face contorted into an indescribably strange weeping expression. “You mustn’t, you mustn’t!” “Just spare her that!” “Mr. Oe! Mr. Oe! Hurry and get her back!” The beast’s behavior was far too gruesome. Even without hearing the Countess’s scream, Rando—her lover—could not stand by and watch as Kyoko’s body, even if it was a corpse, was snapped like a bundle of kindling.

“Wait—put the young lady down.” “Do that, and I might just let you escape.” Rando finally showed weakness. “Hahaha… Given in, have you?” “Then clear the way!” “Move aside!” The Gorilla-like Man bared his teeth. “Fine—I’ll move.” “In return—you let go of her.”

As he spoke, Rando backed away toward the corner of the room. There was a mere sliver of an opening there. The Gorilla-like Man leapt down from the bed in a flash and dashed toward the room’s entrance like an arrow. Still clutching Kyoko’s corpse under his arm. Greedily, he even clutched the severed left wrist in his other hand. “Hey! What are you doing with the young lady?” “Wait!” Rando, shouting, chased him out the door. The two student lodgers also followed after them. From the outer corridor came the Gorilla-like Man’s shouted parting remark as he ran.

“This here’s my weapon—can’t go lettin’ it slip away careless-like. If you catch up to me, look—I’ll snap her clean in two with a crack! Your precious little lady, you know.”

And the sound of hurried footsteps—the fleeing man and his pursuers—faded away toward the entrance.

Countess Hanazono didn’t know what to do. It was a frustration too bitter for tears. If Kyoko’s corpse never returned like that, what could she possibly say to her husband, the Count, who was away on a trip? The thought suddenly crushed her heart. Without leaving the bedroom, she collapsed onto the ownerless bed and wept soundlessly.

After about ten minutes had passed, Rando Oe and the student lodgers who had given chase returned empty-handed. After that, the pale maids timidly peeked their faces out at the bedroom entrance.

“Madam, I’m terribly sorry—we let him get away.”

Rando said, panting heavily. Countess Hanazono finally raised her face and dazedly looked around.

“Then… that Kyoko too…” “Yes, Kyoko-san’s corpse as well.” “I stopped by a nearby police box on the way and asked them to contact headquarters by phone to arrange a police cordon, but…” “It might already be too late.” “Did you lose sight of him?” “That’s right… I don’t consider myself slower than anyone in a footrace, but I’m no match for him.” “He’s a full-blown gorilla.” “He’s not human.” “While carrying such a heavy burden, he ran like a black wind.” “By the time we thought he’d turned about three street corners, he’d already vanished without a trace.” “He is truly a terrifying fiend.” “Even if we arrange a police cordon now, it’s probably futile.”

Rando explained apologetically.

“It’s true. Madam. He’s not human. We ran till our hearts nearly leapt out of our throats, but…”

One of the student lodgers shouted regretfully.

For a while, no one said anything. At present, they had no idea what they should do.

In the deep silence, only Countess Hanazono’s stifled sobs continued intermittently.

“By the way, Madam—is there any sign of tampering with your safe?” “Have you noticed any items missing from it?”

Rando suddenly changed tack and asked. “Oh, I... I haven’t checked yet, but…” Countess Hanazono weakly stood up and went to the safe. When they looked, the paulownia double doors inside the safe had been destroyed by the Gorilla-like Man to conceal himself, the inner shelves were smashed to pieces, and a great number of documents had been pressed down to the bottom of the box. When they opened the lower drawer of the double-door cabinet, they found that only one was completely empty. No, it wasn’t completely empty—instead of the bundle of bonds, a single scrap of paper had been left.

“Oh! The bonds are gone! “Oh dear, what am I to do? “And then there’s this…” Rando received the strange scrap of paper from the Countess and asked: “And the amount? “Is it a significant sum?” “Yes—100,000 yen. “The face value is 100,000 yen. “If that doesn’t return, we will end up completely destitute.”

The pitiable Countess Hanazono, with a mad look in her eyes, said in a flustered manner. Rando read through the scrap of paper that appeared to be a note left by the bandit. There, written as follows, was an astonishing message.

Your Excellency Count Hanazono, Your Excellency’s daughter Kyoko-san, having fallen so deeply in love with me that she proposed marriage, has become somewhat of a grateful nuisance to me. Why, you ask? Because on my part, I do not love Kyoko-san at all. However, being unable to refuse the young lady’s earnest request, I have decided to hold a splendid wedding ceremony tomorrow night at my residence. That is why I have come tonight to retrieve the bride, you see. Your Excellency, I must say this marriage is somewhat of an imposition. I repeat—I do not love your daughter in the slightest.

In such cases, according to worldly custom, it is only natural for the bride to provide a dowry. I shall turn a blind eye to that dowry and enter into this unwanted marriage. The bonds for 100,000 yen in the safe—I have duly received the aforementioned dowry. From the King of Terror’s simian underlings

Ah! What in heaven’s name—

Was the Gorilla-like Man attempting yet another wedding with a corpse? Moreover, this time the corpse lacked both hands. In old slang, they called such handless wretches Tokurigo. What on earth could he be planning with this handless corpse bride?

The Gorilla-like Man’s remarriage. That’s right—this beast had grown lonely. He intended to take the second corpse as his bride— alongside an enormous dowry.

What sort of terrifying wedding ceremony would that bastard conduct this time?

The Monster Running Through the Darkness

The true identity of the mysterious thief who called himself the "King of Terror" remained unknown. Readers already knew of a certain person who had applied strange makeup to Teruko Nunobiki’s lifeless face. He was a small-statured man in a black Western suit with a pallid face, his thick artist-like hair flowing down to his shoulders. Perhaps that man was none other than the "King of Terror". Could he have been the one? Given how he had spoken to his partner, the Gorilla-like Man, as one would to a subordinate, this conjecture seemed likely accurate. Yet that long-haired mysterious figure never showed himself before us again.

All we knew were the bizarre actions of the Gorilla-like Man—undoubtedly a subordinate of the bandit. That bastard murdered Count Hanazono’s daughter Kyoko in a mysterious manner. He didn’t stop at murdering her. He tucked the corpse under his arm and fled to parts unknown.

Where had the Gorilla-like Man gone? What had become of Kyoko Hanazono’s corpse? Though the police had spared no effort in their search, even by the following day, they had found not the slightest trace of the criminals’ whereabouts.

However, that night, a truly bizarre event occurred. Something as deranged as madness itself had taken place.

The reason was that nearly a full day and night after the incident occurred, on the following night, the Gorilla-like Man was discovered once again running while clutching Kyoko-san’s corpse in exactly the same manner as before. What on earth? Had he been wandering the streets of Tokyo for over twenty hours still clutching the corpse?

Around eleven o'clock that night, as Detective K—a plainclothes officer belonging to the Metropolitan Police Department’s Investigation Section—was walking through a quiet residential area near Ueno Park, he spotted a strange figure up ahead: someone clutching what appeared to be a young woman under their arm, stumbling along in an ungainly run. “Hey, stop!”

When he called out, the figure started in surprise and turned around—then suddenly broke into a run at terrifying speed—but the face glimpsed in that fleeting turn was unmistakably inhuman. It resembled some simian creature. Though it was impossible for a monkey to be sprinting in a kimono, Detective K felt an eerie sensation—then abruptly remembered the “King of Terror” case. Moreover, there was the fact that Count Hanazono’s daughter’s corpse had been stolen the previous night. The thief was none other than a subordinate of the “King of Terror”—the one nicknamed “Gorilla.” So that bastard’s the Gorilla-like Man. And what he’s clutching under his arm must be the Count’s daughter.

“Got him! This is a big catch!” The detective charged ahead in pursuit of the monster. It was a desolate town with no passersby. Both pursuer and fleeing man could run freely with no obstacles in their way. Turning corner after corner, the bizarre chase continued for five or six blocks. They became two dark blurs slicing through the wind as they ran. No matter how gorilla-like he was, carrying such a heavy burden meant he couldn’t maintain that pace indefinitely. The gap between them steadily closed.

If he kept running like this, he would inevitably be caught in an instant. He had to do something. The Gorilla-like Man finally made up his mind. He resolved to abandon his important prize and secure his own safety. “Here! If ya want this so bad, take it!” He continued running, shouting resentfully as he hurled the corpse he had been carrying to the ground. The detective faltered slightly at this unexpected move. He lacked the presence of mind to ignore the young lady’s corpse and continue the pursuit. He involuntarily stopped before the thrown corpse.

Taking advantage of that opening, the Gorilla-like Man managed to put about sixty feet between them. If, at that moment, that policeman hadn’t appeared ahead of him, he might have managed to escape unscathed. But the whistle the detective had been blowing during the chase proved effective. Having heard this, a single policeman appeared before the thief at that very moment. No ruffian, no matter how fierce, could withstand being attacked from both front and rear when exhausted from running. After a fierce struggle, the Gorilla-like Man was finally captured.

The two police officers, holding the end of the thief’s rope, returned to where the young lady’s corpse lay fallen.

“As I was just saying, this guy must be the King of Terror’s subordinate—the Gorilla-like Man.” “He was running around carrying this corpse.” “This here is Count Hanazono’s daughter.”

Detective K explained. They were acquainted with each other.

“Hmm… So it’s last night’s case then! This here’s one hell of a haul!”

The two men, smug with satisfaction at their unexpected triumph, peered down at the corpse on the ground. The streetlight’s hazy glow faintly illuminated the woman’s Western-style dress. “No doubt about it,” said the policeman. “Judging by these clothes, this is definitely the Count’s daughter.” “Damn, she’s got a pretty face,” came a rough voice from nearby. “Looks just like a fuckin’ mannequin!” Amidst the policemen’s agitated voices, a stifled snicker slipped through. “Hey! Who laughed just now?” Detective K barked. “It was you, wasn’t it? What’s so goddamn funny?”

Detective K yanked the rope end and scolded the Gorilla-like Man.

The thief kept smirking even after being reprimanded but did not offer any retort.

“Wait a second—hey, this is weird!”

The policeman who had been peering at the corpse exclaimed in a shrill voice. “What’s wrong?” “I thought she was a beautiful young lady like a doll—but hey, you! This really is a damn doll!” “Look here! When you knock its face, it makes a clacking sound.” Undoubtedly, it was a doll. It was a mannequin doll standing in a clothing store’s display window. “Wahahaha…”

Suddenly, the Gorilla-like Man’s brazen laughter exploded. But there was no helping being laughed at. They had mistaken the mannequin for a real woman’s corpse and chased after it with wild eyes—there was simply no way to back down now.

But wait. It was strange for someone to be running around carrying a mannequin doll late at night—and if they weren’t thieves, there’d be no reason to flee. Wait a minute—so was this bastard just a mannequin thief after all? No, that didn’t seem right either. It was strange that a mere mannequin thief would flee so desperately—and there was no reason for him to resist that fiercely either. What’s more, he couldn’t stand the look of this bastard’s face. His face bore an uncanny resemblance to the descriptions he’d heard of the Gorilla-like Man.

Therefore, Detective K, concluding that regardless of the circumstances, the man was undoubtedly some kind of criminal, resolved to first toss him into a holding cell at the Metropolitan Police Department and seek his superior’s opinion.

Now then, when the next morning came and they summoned the student lodger from Count Hanazono’s household to conduct an identity verification, sure enough— “This one. The thief from two nights ago is undoubtedly this one.” That was his answer. Moreover, through the testimony of that same student lodger, it became clear that the Western clothes placed on that mannequin doll were not a stitch different from what young lady Kyoko had been wearing that night. There could be no mistake—Kyoko-san’s initials, proving the clothing was hers, had been sewn into the collar lining of the dress.

Things were becoming increasingly unclear. Where on earth had the Gorilla-like Man hidden Kyoko-san’s corpse? And why on earth had he dressed a mannequin in those clothes and carried it around? It was an utterly baffling, outlandish tale—like being tricked by a fox. At the Metropolitan Police Department, the Investigation Section Chief—Detective K’s superior—took charge of interrogating the Gorilla-like Man and spent the entire day locked in a battle of wills with him, but ultimately gained nothing. The Gorilla-like Man would give no proper answer no matter what they asked, and when he did reply, he spouted nothing but nonsense. There was no managing him.

Where had they hidden Kyoko’s corpse? For what purpose and from where had they stolen the mannequin doll? What exactly was his leader, the "King of Terror"? To all other interrogations, they could not obtain a single satisfactory answer. But that wasn’t all. As the interrogation continued, something truly horrifying occurred. The section chief lost his temper and struck the thief’s cheek—a fatal mistake. Until then, though he had given no proper answers, the Gorilla-like Man had at least remained docile—but enraged by that blow, he suddenly erupted into violence.

He let out a guttural shriek unlike any human voice, bared his teeth into a visage indistinguishable from an actual gorilla’s, and lunged at the section chief. The chief came within a hair’s breadth of being mauled by this beast. No—this was no exaggeration whatsoever. Later accounts would confirm that an officer had indeed been bitten by the Gorilla-like Man during this frenzy. His agitation refused to abate. For days he raged unchecked. Each fresh beating from the policemen only stoked his savagery higher, until at last an officer fell prey to those fangs—a grotesque incident leaving the man hovering between life and death.

People were compelled to doubt whether this man belonged to humankind or to the beasts. For a monkey, it was strange that he had human skin and understood human speech. However, for a human, he was far too powerful and ferocious.

In the end, for this superhuman creature, a zoo cage was brought into the basement of the Metropolitan Police Department. The beast was confined within that cage and came to be interrogated inside it. It must indeed be called an unprecedented and bizarre incident.

But that is a tale for later.

We must now speak of the bizarre incident that occurred the day after the Gorilla-like Man’s capture, inside a grand department store known as D.

The Wedding Ceremony Inside the Department Store

On the afternoon following the Gorilla-like Man’s capture, an extravagant invitation in a large Western-style envelope arrived at Rando Oe’s apartment study, where he had been lost in thought. The text read as follows.

We are pleased to announce that our wedding ceremony, for which you have gone to such lengths, will finally be held today at 5:00 PM at D Department Store. We kindly request the honor of your presence, despite all your pressing engagements.

King of Terror Kyoko Hanazono Indeed, the Gorilla-like Man would marry Kyoko’s corpse. But no—it was not the Gorilla-like Man. The invitation bore the name “King of Terror.” In any case, Kyoko would have to become the thief’s bride and expose the shame of her death.

But of all places—D Department Store? And at 5:00 PM, no less? What audacity! Did the thief truly intend to conduct that horrifying wedding ceremony amidst such a massive crowd?

Rando promptly reported this matter by telephone to the Metropolitan Police Department and the Hanazono family. The Metropolitan Police Department responded that they would dispatch detectives immediately to D Department Store.

Just as he finished making the phone call, Natsuko Kitagawa suddenly appeared.

“Things have taken a terrible turn, haven’t they? The Gorilla-like Man’s whereabouts still aren’t known.” She said this without even offering a greeting. “He was caught last night.” “However, it seems he hasn’t confessed a single word about where he hid Kyoko’s corpse.”

Rando briefly recounted the details of the Gorilla-like Man’s arrest that he had been told by the Hanazono family’s student lodger that morning. “Oh! I heard they dressed a doll in Kyoko’s clothes and carried it around,” she said without greeting him first. “That’s strange, isn’t it? What on earth could they have done such a thing for?” “That’s what no one can understand,” Rando replied. “The Gorilla isn’t saying a thing. No, that isn’t the only strange thing. Look here—this invitation has just arrived now.”

Natsuko read through the wedding invitation and fell silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a joyful cry. “Mr. Oe, I feel like I’m starting to understand something. “Yes, that must be it!” “It all adds up!” “I feel like I could be a great detective!” Because Rando was aware of this young and beautiful widow’s somewhat eccentric nature, he was not particularly surprised by her exaggerated words.

“What have you figured out?”

“It’s about the meaning of this invitation—why they chose D Department Store as the venue and why the Gorilla-like Man was carrying around that mannequin doll.” “Oh? You’re saying you’ve figured that out?” Rando retorted, flustered. “Is there some connection between choosing D Department Store and that mannequin dressed in Kyoko’s clothes?” “There absolutely is!” The widow brimmed with confidence. “The key to unraveling this mystery lies right there. All the secrets are concealed within these two seemingly unrelated matters at first glance. Oh, how marvelous! I’ve solved a mystery even you couldn’t crack!”

“So you’re a lady detective now.” Rando was dumbfounded. “Won’t you tell me that secret?” “Of course I’ll tell you.” Natsuko grew even more pleased with herself. “But rather than that, why don’t we go to D Department Store together now? And why don’t we check whether my hunch is right?” Rando felt as though he’d been tricked by a fox, but since Natsuko’s words didn’t seem entirely nonsensical, he ordered a car regardless and rode together with this alluring widow.

“So, you think the thieves intend to hold this bizarre wedding ceremony at D Department Store… in such a bustling place?” In the moving car, Rando had to ask questions as clueless as those of Dr. Watson. “Yes, I do.” “The more crowded it gets, the better it suits their plans.” “If you consider the King of Terror’s past methods, you’ll understand.” “He adores flaunting his wickedness.” “A corpse wedding at a major department store—isn’t that precisely the sort of scheme you’d expect from the King of Terror?”

“I can agree with that, but…” “Mr. Oe, the Gorilla-like Man was captured near Ueno Park, wasn’t he?” “Yes… And D Department Store is also near Ueno Park, isn’t it?” “I understand that much, but…” Rando wore a slightly chagrined expression.

At last, the car arrived at the entrance of D Department Store.

The two walked side by side into the store like a couple who had come shopping. “Where on earth in this bustling store could the King of Terror be hiding?” “Where exactly are you planning to take me?”

Rando suspected he might have been completely duped by Natsuko.

“The sixth floor.” “Oh, come now—just follow me.”

The widow hurried to the elevator entrance with a composed expression.

There, while waiting for the elevator, something suddenly caught Rando’s attention. A single beautiful poster affixed to the wall of the entrance. “Sixth Floor Event” “Exhibition of Lifelike Mannequins for Wedding Ceremonies and Bridal Attire”

In ornate, patterned characters, such words were boldly written.

“Natsuko, I’ve got it. This must be it. You knew about this event from the newspaper or something, didn’t you?”

Rando whispered near the widow’s ear. “That’s right. You’ve completely figured me out.” “As expected of Sensei!” “What do you think?” “Could my imagination be mistaken?” Natsuko said with a smirk. “It seems too outlandish.” “However, since our opponent is the King of Terror, perhaps your imagination might be spot-on.” “Anyway, let’s hurry and go see.”

The two boarded the elevator and ascended to the sixth floor. The event venue was a sea of people. As if pushing through the throng, they viewed several scenes of wedding mannequins until finally arriving at a display of the three-times-three exchange of nuptial cups. Above the heads of spectators pressed against a bamboo fence, the beautifully adorned upper bodies of a groom mannequin and bride mannequin were visible.

“That’s it! If that’s really true... then it must be over there! Let’s push through for a closer look.”

Natsuko took Rando’s hand and pushed through the crowd. Against the backdrop of a spacious tokonoma adorned with wedding decorations, the bride and groom, matchmakers, parents from both families, attendants, and others had been arranged as though alive.

It was a truly splendid, ostentatious wedding ceremony. If this groom mannequin were none other than the King of Terror himself, and the bride mannequin were Kyoko’s corpse, then one would have to say the criminals’ plan had succeeded splendidly. But could such an absurd thing exist—that those prim bride and groom were not mannequins but actual human beings? “Sensei, don’t you think the bride mannequin is looking down a bit too much?” “The face is in the shadow of the lamp, isn’t it?” “Could the doll artisan have made such a shoddy arrangement?”

Natsuko, who had been staring intently, pulled Rando’s sleeve and whispered.

“Hmm, something’s off here.” “And that face—I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

“Yes, I think so too. With such heavy makeup on a deathly face, the features are bound to change somewhat. At first glance she doesn’t look like Kyoko-san, but there’s something about her that resembles her, don’t you think?”

“That’s right. The longer I looked, Kyoko-san’s likeness gradually emerged. Moreover, that posture seems slightly unnatural for a mannequin. Let’s call a clerk to inspect it.”

Rando extricated himself from the crowd, stopped a clerk, and whispered something. At first, the clerk made no move to respond, but his expression gradually grew serious until finally he turned deathly pale and dashed off somewhere.

Before long, an elderly clerk rushed over, accompanied by two regularly employed detective investigators.

The spectators were driven away from in front of the wedding ceremony scene. The two detectives and Rando ascended the stage. “I knew it. This isn’t a mannequin!” A detective leaned in close to the bride mannequin and shouted.

“But these hands both clack—they’re definitely mannequin hands.” Now, one detective clapped the bride’s hands together and said curiously.

“No, this corpse has no hands. They were cut off by the criminals. That’s why mannequin hands have been attached to the arms.” Rando explained this while touching the bride’s face. It was too cold for wood. Moreover, it had a plush elasticity.

“Damn, what a terrible stench! Why didn’t we notice this stench? Come closer and look—there’s an unbearable stench.”

One of the detectives shouted rudely.

Thus, Kyoko Hanazono’s corpse was discovered. The criminals had indeed carried out his promise. They conducted a terrifying wedding ceremony inside a department store under the gaze of the crowd.

But what had been discovered was only the bride. What on earth had become of the groom? There’s no such thing as a wedding ceremony with only the bride.

Then, could this prim groom mannequin also be a real human being? Could this be none other than an exquisitely clever disguise of the King of Terror himself? As he thought this, Rando couldn’t help but shudder with an uncanny dread. He strode briskly up to the mannequin and suddenly shoved its shoulder.

Then, with a clatter, the mannequin toppled over right where it sat, still in its seated position. The attire came undone, exposing half of its chest. “Hey, there’s something written on this mannequin’s chest!” The detective noticed it and shouted.

The people gathered around the toppled groom mannequin. When they looked at its chest, there were indeed characters written in jet-black ink. This mannequin that served as the groom King of Terror is hereby to be arrested as a substitute for the King of Terror. At what could only be called the bandits' shamelessly brazen joke, they were so dumbfounded that for a time, no one could utter a word.

The Grotesque Artist

The day after exposing the uncanny incident of the bride mannequin at D Department Store alongside the beautiful widow Natsuko Kitagawa, Rando Oe slept in until around noon in his apartment bed. This was because Kyoko’s wake had been held at the Hanazono residence the previous night.

Just as he had finished washing his face and changing into a kimono, there came a knock at the study door. It was a visitor. He exited the bedroom and opened the study door.

“Excuse me, is this Mr. Oe’s room?”

A stranger stood in the hallway.

He wore a black suit with a black tie, large black glasses, and a black velvet soft cap. He was an unusually dark-complexioned, small-statured man; beneath his hat hung thick, long hair, with a dense mustache beneath his nose. He had the look of what one might call a Western-style painter.

“I’m Oe…”

Rando had never seen this man before, so he answered with a puzzled look.

But you, dear readers, already knew. This small-statured, long-haired man was none other than the leader of the Gorilla-like Man—and likely the "King of Terror." That was the man.

At the beginning of this story, when Gorilla-like Man disguised himself as a driver and stole Teruko Nunobiki’s coffin, that was the man—the mysterious figure who had lain in wait at the vacant house and applied makeup to the corpse’s face. That very same man had now audaciously come to visit Rando Oe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “My name is Kurose. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you briefly.”

The mysterious man announced his name in a gentle, feigned voice. It was, of course, utter nonsense through and through. “What business brings you here?” Rando looked him up and down suspiciously. “Ah... regarding the King of Terror matter...”

The small man who had introduced himself as Kurose lowered his voice and spoke ominously. Hearing "King of Terror," Rando could not refuse to meet him. He promptly ushered Kurose in. "Has the Gorilla-like Man confessed? The newspapers haven't reported anything about it." The mysterious man sat down on a chair and launched into his speech without preamble. "He doesn't say anything. He won't name his accomplices or even confess his own name. He just rampages around like a wild beast—completely unmanageable. In the end, even the police couldn't handle him anymore and locked him in an animal cage."

Rando answered based on what he had heard. “Does he really go that wild? That guy…” “They say he acts like a real gorilla—biting and scratching. A policeman had his arm bitten and suffered severe injuries, they say.” “I see. Then maybe it really is that guy after all.” Kurose said insinuatingly. “Huh? Are you referring to that guy? Do you know anything about that Gorilla-like Man?”

Rando couldn’t help but ask in return. “Well, from what you’ve said, it does seem like he might be someone I know.” “After seeing the newspaper photo and noticing how much he resembled someone I knew, I thought there might be a connection, so I came to visit.” “I was well aware of your involvement in this case, and since I’m an avid reader of your novels, I decided to come here rather than go to the police.”

And then, Kurose briefly introduced himself. According to his account, he was from the countryside of Okayama Prefecture, receiving an allowance from his father, and had come to study art—he was an art student.

“I appreciate that. As you know, I’ve had a terrible time with that guy, so if there’s anything useful for uncovering the King of Terror’s true identity, I’d be glad to answer.” “Do you believe there exists a mastermind who calls himself the King of Terror besides that Gorilla-like Man?”

“Of course, I think so.” “With that beast-like man’s intelligence, such a feat would be utterly impossible.”

“I suppose so.” “I think so too.” “If this Gorilla-like Man is the one I know, he doesn’t even possess a child’s intelligence.” “How exactly do you know him?” “My father purchased him from carnival performers.” “We kept him in our household for over a decade.” “You kept him?!” Rando exclaimed in shock. “Yes, we kept him.” “You see, that guy—” “He doesn’t appear to be entirely human.”

Kurose began to say something horrifying. “The reason they need a cage even if he’s captured by the police this time is precisely because he isn’t human.” “Carnival folk, you see, will resort to any trick for the sake of making money.” “I can’t help but think there must be some horrifying secret behind why that half-beast, half-human creature was brought into this world.” “My father couldn’t bear to see how cruelly the carnival folk treated him when he was a child, so he bought him out of morbid curiosity. But as the years passed, he began to regret it.” “Because as he grew older, it became clear that that guy was a terrifying beast.” “That guy climbs any height like a real ape.” “He can even crawl upside down on the ceiling.” “His strength is such that even three grown men working together would lose against him.” “I know him well because I grew up with him.” “Ever since that guy came, my house became a den of monsters.” “Everyone in the house ended up going mad.”

“So, that guy escaped from your house, then?” “That’s right. It was about six years ago. The man who was staying at my house stole him away. For reasons we still don’t understand at all, the two of them—no, one man and one beast—fled hand in hand as if eloping. At my house, they were delighted to have finally gotten rid of the nuisance, but…” “What a chilling story. And what was that guy’s name?”

“He’s called Miyoshi. The carnival folk who were his previous owners called him that. In other words, on the family register, he’s listed as Kurose Miyoshi.”

“And what about the guy who stole Miyoshi?”

“No, please leave that for later. If that person were indeed the King of Terror, I feel I shouldn’t speak carelessly about it. Before that, I want to see the Gorilla-like Man for myself—to confirm whether he’s truly Miyoshi or not. With your recommendation, might I arrange to see him?” “Of course they’ll permit it. The police are desperate to uncover his origins. And if you recognize an accomplice, nothing could be more advantageous. They’ll gladly show him to you.”

In that manner, their conversation progressed smoothly. Rando called the Metropolitan Police Department and spoke to his acquaintance, the chief of the investigation division, who immediately replied that he should bring that person over.

Syringe.

About an hour later, Rando Oe and the mysterious painter Kurose, guided by the chief of the investigation division himself, were descending the stairs to the basement of the Metropolitan Police Department to meet the Gorilla-like Man.

“So, you and that Gorilla-like Man are registered as brothers on the family register?” Chief S of the Investigation Division asked as he led the way down the dimly lit stairs. “Yes, he’s registered as my elder brother.”

Kurose answered in a serious voice. There was something undeniably strange about this situation. When one thought about it, this was undeniably the brothers’ first meeting in six years. What a bizarre meeting this was. The elder brother was confined inside an animal cage as a wild beast.

When the door to the deep, dimly lit room was opened, there inside stood a sturdy iron cage. Inside the cage, a dark figure lay sprawled like a bear in a zoo.

“Hey! Wake up, wake up! There’s someone here who wants to see you!” Chief S barked angrily, kicking the edge of the cage with his shoe. The beast jerked upright in surprise, abruptly raising his face to look their way. The eyes of the Gorilla-like Man and Kurose the painter clashed with an audible click.

“Ah! You…” The Gorilla-like Man started to shout something but abruptly clamped his mouth shut. He appeared utterly shocked. “It’s me, Miyoshi. Do you remember? I’m Shōichi Kurose.” The painter stared into the Gorilla-like Man’s eyes while speaking in a pressing manner and approached the side of the cage. The painter appeared to possess a sort of hypnotic power over him. In his presence, the usually unruly beast became remarkably docile and hung his head in a submissive posture.

“Miyoshi, you’ve done something utterly outrageous, have you not?” “Moreover, even after being caught, you went and injured people, did you not?” “What a fool you are.” “Being thrown into this animal cage—that too stems from your lack of wit.” “Do you feel no sadness?” “Why not simply confess everything honestly?” “Even if you stay silent, now that I’ve uncovered this, I’ll tell them everything myself.” “That would be for your own good.” “Once the police hear of your pitiful background, they’ll surely show sympathy.”

Kurose pressed his face against the iron bars of the cage and spoke in a tearful voice, patiently reasoning with him. The Gorilla-like Man, perhaps moved by nostalgia for their long-separated reunion, sidled closer to Kurose and crouched utterly still.

Kurose, while talking, reached his hand through the iron bars, stroked the Gorilla-like Man’s back, and grasped his hand. Even with all that being done to him, the Gorilla-like Man remained as docile as a wild beast before its tamer.

The strange meeting between the painter and the Gorilla-like Man took as long as thirty minutes. During that time, he kept whispering in hushed tones over and over to persuade the Gorilla-like Man. And in the end, his efforts seemed to be rewarded.

“I’ve finally persuaded him. Miyoshi says he will confess everything in the upcoming interrogation.” Kurose returned to the two men who had been waiting a short distance away and said.

The chief of the investigation division was overjoyed at this good news and expressed his gratitude.

Kurose fidgeted awkwardly, “Where might the restroom be?” he asked. Chief S went outside the door and informed him of its location. Kurose, who had apparently been holding back for some time, adopted a peculiar gait and hurried in that direction. And after that, this mysterious painter never showed himself again. Under the pretense of going to the restroom, he had escaped somewhere.

Meanwhile, something strange had been happening inside the cage as well.

“Hey! Miyoshi, what are you doing?” “What’s wrong?”

Chief S, startled, rushed to the cage and again knocked its edge with his shoe. But this time, the Gorilla-like Man showed no reaction at all. He lay sprawled out, snoring. His face had turned deathly pale, with beads of sweat drenching his forehead. “The man who was just talking has already fallen asleep.” “What on earth?!” “Hey! Wake up! Wake up!” Chief S thrust his hand through the iron bars and violently shook the Gorilla-like Man’s collapsed body. But there was no resistance whatsoever. He looked as though he were dead. Could someone really fall so deeply asleep in mere minutes?

“This is strange—could something be wrong? Take a look at his complexion.”

Rando peered into the cage and said. This was no ordinary occurrence. The Gorilla-like Man was dying. Could such a seizure really occur suddenly and without any cause?

“Even so, what could that man Kurose be doing? He’s taking awfully long, isn’t he?”

Chief S suddenly noticed this and said. A terrifying thought flashed almost simultaneously through both their minds. “Hey, you! Go find that Kurose fellow who left earlier—he should be in the restroom.” “Hurry and find him immediately!” Chief S ordered a police officer standing in the outer corridor.

But Kurose was nowhere to be found—not in the restroom, nor in any corner of the police station.

Meanwhile, a doctor rushed to check on the Gorilla-like Man’s condition, opened the cage door, and went inside.

He finished meticulously examining the Gorilla-like Man’s body and looked up.

“There are syringe marks on his arm.” “Poison?”

Chief S asked in return, startled. “Yes, probably…” The doctor answered with the name of a specific poison. “What about his chances of survival?” “I don’t know.” “Let me try administering emergency treatment immediately.” “Given how sturdy this man is, he might just manage to pull through.” The doctor said while checking Gorilla Miyoshi’s pulse. Two police officers, following the doctor’s instructions, took the Gorilla-like Man out of the cage and carried him to a separate room upstairs. The police station erupted into commotion. The Chief of the Investigation Division continued shouting into the telephone in his office, describing the appearance and build of the man calling himself Kurose. A police cordon to capture Kurose had been set up.

The one who had injected the poison into the Gorilla-like Man could be none other than Kurose. The most conclusive evidence was that he had vanished. The Gorilla-like Man’s strange backstory and even the name "Miyoshi" were utterly fabricated. He had devised an ingenious scheme to approach his captured accomplice.

If things had gone well, he might have intended to rescue his accomplice. But when he realized it was hopeless, he had no choice but to eliminate his accomplice to ensure his own safety. Fortunately, since nothing had been confessed yet, killing him now would allow him to remain safe indefinitely. But who exactly was this man Kurose, who had so feared the Gorilla-like Man's confession? He was none other than the "King of Terror." Was he not the "King of Terror" himself?

The Demon’s True Identity

Despite the police's exhaustive search, the whereabouts of the long-haired man named Kurose remained utterly unknown.

Given that even after such an exhaustive search he remained unfound, not only was the name Kurose obviously fabricated, but that long hair, trimmed mustache, and black glasses might all have been implements for disguise. His complexion had been unnaturally sallow—perhaps that too had been skillfully applied makeup. No, that wasn’t all. That man’s voice had sounded somehow artificial. He must have been feigning his tone. And so suspicions multiplied endlessly—one after another they came.

Meanwhile, the Gorilla-like Man—who had lost consciousness due to the poison—though an ordinary person would have died instantly, had barely clung to life thanks to his beast-like constitution. Yet even after regaining awareness, he remained mute as a stone, lying stretched out on the sickbed without so much as twitching. He might have gone mad. The voluntary interrogation was making no progress at all.

It was the seventh night after the commotion.

Rando Oe had been invited by Natsuko Kitagawa and was now a guest at her home in Kamakura. The grief of losing his lover was still fresh, yet this young and beautiful widow’s charm as a friend proved hard to resist. She was beautiful, wealthy, harbored extraordinary affection for Rando, and moreover, was an uncommonly skilled detective—so much so that during the D Department Store Bride Doll Incident, she had even managed to astonish Rando, a veritable expert in such matters. Thus, it was only natural that Rando—who had initially detested her—had unwittingly begun to associate with her as an incomparable friend.

As was her custom, Natsuko’s hospitality was perfect in every detail. The two of them sat alone around the dining table where splendid home-cooked dishes and bottles of fragrant Western liquor were arranged in a myriad of hues. “Even if he wanted to save his own skin, isn’t it cruel to try killing the Gorilla-like Man after he worked so faithfully?” The conversation had naturally settled there. “But from the King of Terror’s perspective, there may have been no other choice.”

“But hasn’t that guy been proclaiming from the start, ‘I am the King of Terror’? Even if the Gorilla-like Man were to confess the truth, he wouldn’t be so careless as to get himself caught because of it. He may have needed to rescue the Gorilla-like Man to use him as an assistant, but there was no need to kill him.”

“But from the King of Terror’s perspective, there may have been some special circumstances that made it unavoidable, you see.”

Natsuko’s eyes were already reddening at the rims as she oddly took the thief’s side.

“What do you mean by ‘special circumstances’?”

Rando was also slightly drunk. As he grew drunker, his conversation partner began to appear increasingly beautiful and alluring. "For instance—if the King of Terror were living an ordinary social life like ours on one hand, and having his mask torn away would be disastrous..."

Natsuko said in an innocent, lilting voice. "Well, well—are you saying that murderer leads a respectable social life just like ours?" "Yes, if that weren’t the case, he wouldn’t have taken such a risk to go and kill the Gorilla-like Man, you see." "Perhaps the King of Terror is in love, don’t you think?" "I think he might have undertaken such a reckless act solely because he didn’t want his lover to know his true identity, don’t you think?"

Having said that, Natsuko fixed her glistening eyes on Rando’s face and stared unblinkingly. Rando found himself compelled against all reason to peer back into her eyes. The two remained locked in this silent ocular duel for what felt like eternity. An uncanny presence lingered between them—something primal and skin-crawling. “Oh ho…………” Natsuko erupted in shrill laughter. “Come now—have this one. “It’s strong.” “But don’t fret.” “I’ll tend to you properly…”

She said seductively and poured red Western liquor into a glass before offering it.

Rando tried to shake off the strange, eerie feeling and downed it in one gulp. It was liquor as hot as fire. From his throat down his esophagus burned scorching hot, and by the time it settled into his stomach, his pulse suddenly began to race. His brain throbbed as if being lifted. And Natsuko’s beautiful face receded far into the distance, growing smaller and smaller, until before he knew it, his consciousness began to blur. Rando remained trapped in a long, long dream that shifted with dizzying speed.

It was a nightmare so terrifying it set his teeth on edge, yet perversely pleasant. In the pitch darkness, white, giant caterpillar-like creatures writhed and twisted in countless numbers. They began changing into various colors. The red caterpillars were most terrifying, possessing a chilling allure. The shifting scenes were all of that nature. Each and every one was a hair-raising nightmare.

Even as he dreamed, his sense of touch was ceaselessly teased by something warm and soft, like tentacles.

Drenched in oily sweat, he awoke with a start to find something heavy and soft lying on his face. It took him a long time to realize that it was Natsuko’s face.

When he stirred, Natsuko lifted her face away and stood by the pillow. She had already finished changing her clothes and had even applied her makeup.

Still in a hazy state of consciousness, Rando’s cheek—which he was vaguely tilting upward—received a light tap as she smiled sweetly. “Darling, are you awake?” No sooner had she said this than she left the bedroom as if she had some business to attend to. Rando watched her go, but lacked the energy to call out, drifting in and out of sleep for about thirty minutes. He was immersed in a pleasant languor, as if every joint of his body were melting away. The maid placing the newspaper and coffee on the bedside table and leaving also felt hazy, as if in a dream.

After a long while, when his consciousness finally regained clarity, he took the newspaper from beside his pillow following his daily morning routine. Since the heavy curtains had been drawn, the bedroom remained as dim as twilight. He twisted the switch of the desk lamp and began reading the newspaper in its artificial nocturnal glow.

“Gorilla-like Man” Escapes Late last night from ○○ Hospital Citywide Emergency Alert A four-line bold headline leaped out at his eyes. The article merely stated that the Gorilla-like Man, who was ill, had escaped and his whereabouts were unknown, with no further details provided; but upon reflection, this was the same Gorilla who had received a poison injection from the King of Terror. There’s no reason he would bow his head before his leader again. Even a fool like him would understand that much.

No, precisely because he was a fool, he might disregard his own safety and, burning with resentment, seek revenge against the leader who had betrayed his own kind.

"The one trembling upon hearing of the Gorilla-like Man's escape wasn't the general public—wasn't it rather his leader, the King of Terror himself?" Rando couldn't help but let out a bitter smile. They were certain to begin fighting among themselves. And no matter which side won, society would be somewhat better off.

As he was thinking such things, a terrifying scream came from somewhere. It sounded like “Help…,” but before the cry could fully escape, it was abruptly cut off—as if crushed by some unseen force.

It was certainly Natsuko’s voice. What had happened? The strange correspondence between the article about the Gorilla-like Man’s escape and this scream startled Rando. He hurriedly jumped down from the bed and, still in his nightclothes, dashed out of the room. In the corridor stood two maids—pale and trembling. When he asked them about it, they said the voice seemed to have come from the second-floor study.

He raced up the stairs and rushed to the room. The door would not open. It seemed to be locked from the inside. When he pricked up his ears, someone's ragged, panting breaths could be heard inside. Suddenly realizing, Rando pressed his eye against the door’s keyhole. Sure enough, there was the Gorilla-like Man. For some reason, he couldn’t help feeling that this outcome was inevitable. The one who had escaped from the hospital must have infiltrated this mansion by last night. Why had he come here?

The Gorilla-like Man was panting heavily. His fang-like teeth were stained crimson, and thick red droplets dripped from his lips. It's blood. "So you're the Oe bastard who showed up here."

Suddenly, bloodshot eyes glared through the keyhole, and a crimson mouth roared. “Ha ha ha… You idiot! “And you still call yourself a detective? “Don’t you even know this is your enemy’s house? “Ha ha…. “Hey, I’ll open it for you—get in here. “And then, take a good look at the items on this table. “Come on in!” The Gorilla-like Man sneered as he inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it with a click-clack. With one push, the door opened. But Rando did not have the courage to immediately rush in. Seeing the Gorilla-like Man’s mouth dripping with red droplets, he couldn’t muster the courage to leap forward.

While he was hesitating, the Gorilla-like Man had already placed his foot on the opposite window frame. And then, in a flash, his figure vanished out the window, leaving an eerie laugh lingering in the air. The Gorilla-like Man jumped down from the second-floor window into the garden.

By the time Rando reached the window, the Gorilla-like Man had already scaled the wall. If he were to go around via the stairs now and give chase, there was no way he’d make it in time. Even so, Rando—not being a monkey—lacked the strength to leap from the high Western-style mansion window. Even if he tried to cry out for help from passersby, given that it was early morning and they were in a desolate spot deep in the woods, there was no one around.

Since there was no other way, he flew down to the lower floor, had the maid call the police and a nearby doctor, and then returned to the second floor. If only there were a houseboy here now to help, but even that was currently unavailable. What worried him more than the Gorilla-like Man was Natsuko. If she had only been injured, that would be one thing—but could she have been killed? Natsuko was lying crumpled in a corner of the room. When he checked, she had neither breath nor pulse. Strangulation marks on her throat were swollen a livid purple. Her right cheek appeared to have been bitten into; the flesh was torn open, and her entire face was as crimson as a winter cherry. Even to an amateur’s eye, there was absolutely no hope of revival.

When Rando looked at the table the Gorilla-like Man had left behind and discovered the truly bizarre items there, he was aghast. There was an old black suit and a black velvet fedora; beside them lay a blank sheet of paper, on top of which were arranged a pair of sunglasses, a long-haired wig, and a false mustache. Beside them, several letter-like sheets were neatly stacked, with a paper knife meticulously placed atop them as a weight. Rando felt as though he were still trapped in a nightmare. This suit, this hat, these glasses—could it be that all of them belonged to the eccentric painter who called himself Kurose? Could these belong to the mysterious figure believed to be the King of Terror himself—the one who had injected poison into the Gorilla-like Man and fled? He had indeed been disguised. The long hair and mustache were all fake.

Then, just how many people had disguised themselves as Kurose? Who, in truth, was that insatiably cruel fiend known as the “King of Terror”? No matter how strange it may seem, he could only conclude that it was none other than Natsuko Kitagawa herself who had been killed here. Otherwise, there would be no reason for the Gorilla-like Man, who had escaped from the hospital, to go out of his way to come here and kill Natsuko.

“This is your enemy’s house,” the Gorilla-like Man had said. If Natsuko was indeed the King of Terror, then this was unquestionably the enemy’s house. Rando had spent the night in the very same bedroom as the enemy who had murdered his lover. Stunned by the sheer unexpectedness of it all, Rando stood dazed for a moment; then he snatched up the letter-like scraps of paper on the table and devoured them. They were all simple communications sent from the self-proclaimed leader known as the King of Terror to a person believed to be the Gorilla-like Man.

There was one letter that had arranged the plan to steal Teruko Nunobiki’s coffin. There was another letter detailing how the King of Terror (i.e., Natsuko Kitagawa), after loading Teruko’s corpse into a car, used ventriloquism from within the same vehicle where she hid to call out to her father Mr. Nunobiki in Teruko’s voice. There was another letter arranging the severing of one of Kyoko Hanazono’s arms. There was another letter detailing the plan to lure Rando Oe to Kamakura using skywriting and sand letters, thereby drawing him into Natsuko’s house.

Each and every one was composed of code-like phrases that only the correspondents themselves could fully comprehend, but for Rando, who had known about the case from the beginning, deciphering them proved effortless. Moreover, what was most terrifying was that the handwriting in those letters unmistakably matched that of Natsuko Kitagawa, whom he knew well. There was no longer any room for doubt. “Was the King of Terror nothing more than this one beautiful woman? Was this revelation too absurdly anticlimactic? Could this truly be real?” No matter how much evidence was thrust before him, Rando couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

With that beautiful face of hers, was she actually a terrifying psychopath? Was she a bloodthirsty homicidal maniac? But even if she were a homicidal maniac, didn't these crimes seem to harbor some sort of underlying ideology? The act of deliberately applying makeup to a corpse and conducting a wedding ceremony—didn't this seem to carry significance beyond that of a mere homicidal maniac? It might have been a means to extort money. Or it might have been an outlandish theatrical display born from the criminal's vanity. But wasn't there yet another meaning concealed deeper within?

Though Rando did not know it, Teruko Nunobiki’s fiancé Junichi Torii had been drawn to her corpse—posed as though alive for a night—where he heard her voice and felt the warmth of her skin. What on earth could this have meant? Could it be that there, hidden behind Teruko’s corpse, the criminal Natsuko Kitagawa had lurked, using ventriloquism to act as the corpse’s stand-in? Now, had Rando Oe not had his lover Kyoko Hanazono taken from him and ended up spending the night at Natsuko’s house? Could there not have been a common thread hidden there?

Rando had no capacity to think that deeply, but under the weight of some indescribable ominousness, it felt as though darkness were closing in before his eyes.

×　　　　　×　　　　　×　　　　　× Before long, numerous officers from the local police rushed to the scene and thoroughly combed the vicinity; they threw up barricades at every railway station and major thoroughfare to intercept the Gorilla-like Man. Yet he had vanished without a trace, and even after several days, he remained beyond the reach of their dragnet. Since he was instantly recognizable at a glance, it stood to reason that emerging among people would lead to his immediate capture. Moreover, given his prolonged disappearance, one could not help but wonder: had he retreated into his homeland’s deepest mountains and reverted to his original ape-like kind?

Neither the police nor the public could find satisfaction in the conclusion that the King of Terror’s true identity was merely a single widow. They had been expecting something more splendid—a veritable superhuman. Could it be that all of it was nothing but skillfully fabricated false evidence by some inscrutable mastermind lurking in the shadows?

Could it have been that the true King of Terror still survived somewhere, plotting his next grand scheme? And might Widow Natsuko—simply because she had fallen in love with Rando Oe, the sworn enemy of their gang—have been used as nothing more than a pitiful decoy to lull those authorities into complacency for the time being? In other words, was it possible that Kurose—that eccentric painter—and Widow Natsuko had never been connected at all? As for that poison injection—could its purpose not have been to kill the Gorilla-like Man at all, but rather to temporarily render him unconscious and transfer him from his cage to a hospital where escape would prove easier?

But that was destined to remain an insoluble mystery forever. Until such time as the "King of Terror" resumed his reign of terror, or the missing Gorilla-like Man reappeared, or even until the mysterious pilot who had painted the characters for "King of Terror" in the skies over Kamakura came forward (strangely enough, no matter how extensively they searched, that pilot never materialized), these doubts were nothing but illusions born of dread.