Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Edogawa Rampo

Feline Tongue

Kamiya Yoshio was a company employee who had just graduated from university. Moreover, since he worked in the investigation section of the trading company where his father served as an executive—a carefree position with no fixed duties—the taste of alcohol he had come to know and the charm of the beautiful person who brought it proved impossible to resist. Before long, he found himself visiting time and again that establishment: Café Aphrodite, nestled in a backstreet near Kyobashi.

However, had he chosen a different café or not frequented that one so persistently as to fall in love with its waitress, he would surely have avoided being toyed with by that hair-raisingly terrifying fate. It was indeed at Café Aphrodite that he came to know the protagonist of this tale—the monster Human Leopard.

It was an exceptionally cold winter's night, deep into the hours of darkness. Once again, Kamiya found himself seated at a corner table in Café Aphrodite, slowly sipping whiskey while exchanging idle conversation for three or four hours with Hiroko, the waitress seated across from him.

“It’s strange today—even though it’s only 11 o’clock, there’s not a single customer besides me.” Though normally a somewhat gloomy café with few customers—albeit one possessing a leisurely calm—tonight it felt as though one were sitting in an abandoned house. Between the dim electric lights and the deathly stillness, the atmosphere grew chillingly eerie. “They say it’s a cursed day, I’m sure.” “It must be cold outside.” “But with no interruptions, this is better, right?”

Hiroko parted her well-shaped lips in a coy smile, revealing the overlapping canine he adored as she smiled coquettishly.

Just then, at that very moment, the entrance boy's voice greeted a customer, and with clicking footsteps, a man entered and settled into the booth in the farthest corner behind a potted palm plant, as if evading notice. As the man walked past, Kamiya managed to observe his demeanor and features: he wore a jet-black suit, was alarmingly gaunt with disproportionately long legs, and had a swarthy face reminiscent of a Turk—sunken cheeks, a prominent nose, and shockingly large eyes that evoked some wild animal. These eyes, positioned unnervingly close to his nasal bridge compared to ordinary people, glinted fiercely. He appeared to be about thirty years old.

Kamiya then spent some time exchanging pleasant whispers with Hiroko, but even during that interlude, he couldn’t help feeling unsettled by the guest hidden beneath the palm fronds. He had never seen a human who gave off such a bizarre impression. Hiroko seemed to share the same sentiment; even as she spoke, she kept staring intently in that direction, until finally, as if unable to bear it any longer, she whispered a plea. “I don’t like it. That man has been staring at my face from the very start.” “Look, from that shade of the leaves, those big eyes are staring right at me.” “It’s creepy.”

When he glanced casually in that direction, sure enough, through the gaps in the palm leaves, phosphorescent eyes—glowing unnaturally like fireflies—were fixed on Hiroko with the predatory focus of a cat stalking a mouse.

“Is that guy a first-time customer?” “Yes, that’s right. I’ve never seen anyone like that before.” “Rude bastard!” Kamiya clicked his tongue loud enough to carry and glared at the man. Onda noticed this and fixed a piercing gaze back at him. "Damn it, I won’t lose!" Drunk and defiant, Kamiya locked eyes in a staring contest. Strangely, the phosphorescent light within his opponent’s pupils intensified until an uncanny radiance flooded his vision, forcing him to endure dizzying vertigo. An indescribable chill crawled up the nape of his neck.

“You should stop worrying about someone like that. It’s better if you don’t look over there either—that guy’s gone mad. He’s not even human.” “Alright, I won’t look anymore.”

However, before long, something happened that made it impossible to feign indifference. “Hey, Hiroko, I’m in trouble.”

The waitress who had been attending to the suspicious customer, her face flushed crimson from drink, approached their table and lowered her voice. “That man… he insists you come over.”

“No way! How rude,” she protested. “I’m here with Yoshi-kun, aren’t I?” “Yes, I know that,” “so I told him it’s not your shift and refused, but he won’t listen—he’s drunk and might get violent.” “Couldn’t you just show your face for a moment?” As he listened to this, Kamiya felt a seething rage welling up inside him. “Tell him no.” “Who does something like cutting in on someone else’s conversation?!” “If you keep dawdling, I’ll go over there myself.”

Then, the waitress went back once but immediately turned around and came right back,

“Then he says he wants to meet you.” “I barely managed to stop him from barging over here—Hiroko, I’m begging you…” she said tearfully. “Alright, then I’ll go deal with him.” Kamiya stood up and, pushing aside the two women who clung to him pleading, “Oh, you mustn’t!”, strode into the booth behind the palm plant. “I hear you have business with me.”

And being drunk, he closed in a bit too aggressively. The man had knocked over both his glass and whiskey bottle on the table—fixing those terrifying eyes—while savagely hacking at the beefsteak on his plate when Kamiya’s voice made him jerk his head up with a smirk. “Why yes, I do have business with you.” “Or rather… a request.” “I’ve gone and fallen for that girl.” “Would you let me meet her?”

Taken aback by his unexpectedly meek tone, Kamiya was at a loss for a reply when— “Please let me meet her.” “Otherwise, I might lose my self-control.” “You mustn’t make me angry.” “Look.” “My mouth… my mouth…” Looking closer, he was grinding his teeth. He ground his molars, stifling his fury. And the eyes fixed unblinkingly upon him widened grotesquely, that uncanny phosphorescent light kindling once more.

“But you—that’s impossible. “That girl’s with me.” “Trying to steal her away?” Kamiya bluffed defiance. “Won’t you permit it? “Won’t you permit it?”

The man asked hurriedly. “Yes, that would be a problem.” “Oh, please save me.” “I’m about to lose my self-control.” “If I lose my self-control…”

He ground his teeth with an unsettling click, then—as if seized by some thought—suddenly formed a fist and slammed it into the table. As he pounded it over and over, his knuckles split open, and blood began to flow. On the blood pooling on the table, he brutally continued to pummel. He was battling his own mind. Clenching his teeth and injuring his fingers, he tried to suppress some violent impulse. But despite this, at any moment, the beast-like anger welling up inside him violently shook his entire body, all ten fingers of both hands twisting grotesquely as if clawing at something unseen. And his eyes burned an even deeper blue, teeth clattering violently.

As Kamiya watched this, he could no longer maintain even the facade of composure. The drunkenness had completely worn off, leaving him trembling violently under an indescribable terror—a chill that seeped into the very depths of his heart. “Hiroko, come here.” He had called out involuntarily. “What?” Right behind him came Hiroko’s reply. With resigned abruptness, she slid into the booth and settled beside the man. “Ah… You’re Hiroko?”

The man’s countenance changed utterly and abruptly. He put his arm around Hiroko’s shoulder and spoke as if apologizing, all while grinning slyly. “I’m Onda, you see. I’d like to give you a gift—will you accept it?” He whispered, furtively stealing glances at Kamiya—who sat rigidly watching him—while making his large mouth flap noisily. Indeed, this Onda—this bizarre man—had a mouth that was truly enormous. If he were to open it wide, one might suspect it would split to his ears, transforming his entire gaunt face into nothing but a gaping maw. His lips weren’t particularly thick, but they glowed an intense red and appeared perpetually slick with moisture.

Onda removed a strangely shaped ring from his own finger, forcibly took Hiroko’s resisting hand, and slipped it onto her finger.

“This commemorates my first meeting with the beautiful Hiroko.” “Please treasure it.”

Having slipped the ring onto her finger, he gripped Hiroko’s hand tightly and declared in a tone of utterly self-absorbed willfulness. Kamiya bristled with anger, but recalling Onda’s earlier visage, he found himself too terrified to intervene. He could only dismiss it as the deranged antics of a madman.

The madman took the whiskey bottle that had been lying nearby, poured the remaining spilled liquor into a glass, and—

“For you, Hiroko—Prosit!” He shouted, then gulped it down in one go and lapped his long tongue about. It was an abnormally long, bright red tongue. But his tongue was not merely long. Nor was it merely red. The true horror of it became clearly apparent when he brought the beefsteak to his mouth.

It was by no means a drunken hallucination of Kamiya’s. Hiroko and the other waitress had clearly noticed it too, later discussing the matter with faces deathly pale. Onda stabbed a thick slice of beefsteak—dripping red blood—with his fork, wrenched his mouth agape, lashed his crimson tongue about, and devoured it with apparent relish. But then, under the electric light’s glare, the surface of that agilely thrashing tongue came into horrifying focus.

Ah, could that truly be a human tongue? On the crimson flesh's surface lay a field of barbs as if needles had been planted. With each movement of the tongue, like grass blown by wind, it rippled and bristled. It was no human tongue. It was a feline tongue. Kamiya had kept a cat before, so he knew well the horror of such a tongue. A ferocious carnivorous beast's tongue—a cat's, a tiger's, or else a leopard's.

From the phosphorescent glow burning in those enormous eyes to his shadowed, gaunt face; from the crimson feline tongue to his lithe movements—a black leopard! Yes, watching this man, he couldn't help but vividly conjure up that solitary, ferocious shadow-beast lurking in tropical jungles.

Am I truly in my right mind? Could it be that this monster was merely a hallucination brought on by my drunken eyes? Or am I now being tormented by a nightmare? Kamiya grew so frightened by what he saw that he tried to avert his eyes—yet the more he tried to look away, the more he found himself pulled back as if by invisible threads, until before he knew it, he was staring fixedly at the beast-like mouth of the man before him. Writhing in the darkness. The time he spent sitting across from the monster in the same booth—enduring and enduring his terror solely to protect his lover—felt interminably long. Yet Onda—though he did intermittently gnash his teeth with a grating sound—refrained from any outright violent outbursts. Until around one o’clock, he drank and ate while gazing enraptured at Hiroko’s face. When told the café was closing for the night, he lingered with palpable reluctance, repeating “Goodbye” to Hiroko again and again, then departed with a surprisingly docile air.

Kamiya sighed in relief, comforted the pale Hiroko, and left the café a step behind.

In the desolate backstreets of the late-night hours, where all foot traffic had ceased, an ice-cold black wind howled with a mournful wail. Kamiya was suddenly overcome with a lonely feeling as though he had been hurled into a desert. Holding down his hat, he walked toward the nearby main avenue to hail a taxi—but when he abruptly turned the corner, there stood Onda under the pale streetlight of the boulevard.

At the café, he had kept it rolled up under his arm, so its form had been unclear; but now he wore a black Inverness coat over his suit—ill-fitting and giving him the appearance of a gigantic monstrous bird of the night. Each time the wind gusted fiercely, the hem and sleeves of that Inverness coat fluttered like bat wings. As Kamiya stood rooted to the spot, morbidly transfixed by Onda’s figure—which resembled a sorcerer from an old Western tale—the man suddenly turned toward the black wind, let out a strange cry, and began stamping his feet like a petulant child. It was not merely to ward off the cold. He was in a state of frenzied agitation, as if he had gone mad. He must have been trying to distract himself from an irresistible impulse in this way.

Kamiya was being drawn toward the fiend as if by some strange gravitational pull. He could no longer suppress the urge to follow this man’s trail, no matter how far it led. The more frightened he was, the more he wanted to witness its true form. Soon, Onda hailed a vacant taxi and disappeared into it. Kamiya, equally agitated, leaped into the next taxi that came along. “Follow that car ahead as far as it goes—and make sure they don’t notice.” “I’ll pay whatever you want, so—”

The late-night main road, free of any obstructions, was ideally suited for tailing. The two cars raced through the wind like arrows. Up to Shinjuku, the townscape beyond the window remained familiar, but beyond that point, he could scarcely recognize anything. The car wound its way through one outskirt after another until before long they found themselves on a rural road dotted sparsely with houses. After what felt like forty or fifty minutes of driving, the car ahead finally came to a stop. Kamiya got out half a block short of their destination to avoid detection and asked the driver where they were. The driver replied that they seemed to be midway between Ogikubo and Kichijoji.

“I’ll be back soon, so turn off the headlights and wait here for me, please.”

After issuing the order, he hurriedly pursued Onda.

On both sides of the road, between rows of giant trees towering like colossal demons, stood scattered houses with faintly glowing streetlights here and there. Peering through the gaps between the trees, he saw Onda’s black bat-like figure striding ahead along the rural road, half a block ahead. It was just at the moment when his black shadow passed beneath a streetlight. Suddenly, a dog came running from ahead and began barking clamorously.

Onda raised his foot and shooed it away with “Shoo! Shoo!”, but the more he did so, the more clamorously the dog barked. Even the dog must have been unable to help but be terrified by his monstrous appearance.

Provoked by the small animal’s relentless assault, the fiend once again began stamping his feet in a frenzied tantrum. Raising his legs alternately and clenching both fists before his chest—though it was inaudible from here—he must surely have been gnashing his teeth as he always did. He began a truly indescribably eerie maddened dance. Had a human witnessed this, they would have trembled and fled in an instant—but the dog, far from retreating, instead lunged at him with even fiercer intensity.

Then, in the next moment—ah—something truly horrifying occurred. Kamiya could never forget the gruesome spectacle of that moment. No sooner had the fiend let out an unnaturally shrill scream than he spread the bat-like wings of his Inverness coat and lunged at the wretched dog like a savage beast.

Under the dim streetlight, the man and the dog became a single black mass, rolling around like a ball. Neither the man nor the dog made a sound anymore as they fought in terrible silence. But this mismatched struggle did not last long. The black mass abruptly stopped moving, and what rose unsteadily was Onda’s shadow. As he stood up and walked away without so much as a backward glance, behind him lay the pitiful corpse of the dog, limp and motionless.

Kamiya approached the dog’s corpse and was struck by a fresh wave of terror. The dog’s mouth had been mercilessly torn open, leaving it collapsed in a mass of bright red blood. Ah, what a monster! He is not human. Would a human ever do such a cruel thing? And then there's this terrifying strength of his. He must have gripped the dog’s upper and lower jaws with both hands and torn them apart with a sickening crunch—but could someone with ordinary strength manage such a thing?

Kamiya was so intimidated by the man’s excessive cruelty that he even considered turning back then and there, but his tenacious curiosity overcame his fear, and with both hands clenched in clammy sweat, he once again pursued the fiend’s trail. After tailing him for a while, Onda veered off the main road and turned onto a narrow path through a grove of mixed trees. Beyond the sparse grove of mixed trees in the distance, something like a cluster of forest loomed, cutting into the starry sky. Judging by the flickering lights visible within, it must be a house surrounded by standing trees. Was Onda returning to that solitary house in the middle of the field?

As they moved away from the streetlights of the main road, the grove of mixed trees grew increasingly darker, making it extremely difficult to tail the black shadow through that darkness.

But when they soon exited the grove of mixed trees, somehow, he suddenly lost sight of Onda’s shadow—which had been faintly discernible until just moments before. In the easily concealable grove, he had managed to tail him properly, yet after emerging under the starry sky—dark though it was, with an open field of view—the sudden disappearance of his figure felt truly uncanny.

The area had no paddies or fields—only a vast expanse of desolate thickets. There was no proper path to speak of; withered grass damp with night dew clung eerily to his legs, and he risked stepping into puddles at every turn, making progress arduous. Yet Kamiya, reluctant to abandon the monster he had painstakingly tailed this far, strained his eyes under the starry sky to survey his surroundings before advancing unsteadily toward the light amid the distant trees.

When he suddenly noticed, the thicket a few yards ahead was rustling with a dry, whispering sound. Is it the wind? Is the withered grass swaying in the wind? But if it were the wind, it was strange that the sound came from only one place. He grew slightly uneasy and stopped to listen, but though the wind still blew through the sky, the earlier sound abruptly ceased.

When he started walking, again from the same direction came a rustling sound. When he stopped, it abruptly ceased. Am I frightening myself with my own footsteps? No—that didn’t seem to be the case. He tried walking stealthily to muffle his steps, but there was still a rustling like wind sweeping through the thicket.

The deep night of Musashino, far removed from the urban bustle, was as dark and silent as the underworld. As for sound, there was only the wind blowing through the sky; as for light, nothing but the flickering stars. In that otherworldly darkened grassland, separate from the wind, a sound ceaselessly rose and fell.

Kamiya stood frozen in place, overwhelmed by the sheer eeriness, unable to move. And as he stared fixedly in the direction of the sound, two spheres with a phosphorescent blue glow like that of phosphorus appeared amidst the thicket. It couldn’t be fireflies—not in this cold season. Nor a snake. They were feline eyes glowing even in the darkness. Those were the eyes of the black leopard.

The two glowing orbs intensified their light, staring fixedly in his direction without moving. It's him. For some reason, the monster was lying in the thicket, watching Kamiya’s every move. For an excruciatingly long time, the bizarre standoff in the pitch-black darkness continued. Kamiya was on the verge of exhaustion. He was on the verge of fainting from terror. At that moment—ah, at that very moment—the monster prostrate on the ground spoke in a human voice. He spoke in a sinister voice that seemed to echo from the depths of hell.

“Hey, go home immediately. I don’t want the likes of you interfering with me.”

As the phosphorescent eyes turned away and vanished, the black shadow—crawling low along the ground—rustled through the grass and retreated into the distance. He never once stood up. He did not run upright; instead, he pressed both hands to the ground and fled like a beast.

Kamiya mustered what little strength remained and ran back the way he had come, fleeing for as long as his breath would last. He reverted to the heart of a boy he had forgotten for over a decade and fled in a death-defying frenzy, as if something were chasing him. While feeling the vexation of being trapped in an inescapable nightmare, he ran and ran.

The Mystery of the Mysterious House

Kamiya Yoshio had come down with a cold, developed a fever, and remained bedridden for a week starting the very next day. This was partly due to his exposure to the cold late-night wind while tailing the monster, but it may also have been because he had been bathed in that eerie phosphorescent light and sensed the demonic aura of a vengeful spirit. Since his absence from work had been so prolonged, he naturally couldn’t visit Café Aphrodite either and had remained entirely unaware of what might have happened to Hiroko during that time—but once he had finally recovered enough to rise and went to the café, eager to see Hiroko’s smile again after so long, something unexpected had occurred.

Three days prior, Hiroko had left home to go shopping at Shiseido in Ginza and had since gone missing; her family had frantically searched for her and notified the police, but her whereabouts remained unknown.

That Hiroko could not possibly have loved another man besides Kamiya and eloped; moreover, there was absolutely no reason for her to run away from home or commit suicide. She must have been kidnapped. But would there really be a man in this day and age who would commit such an outrageous act as abducting a waitress right in the middle of Ginza? Wasn’t this too inhuman and irrational? But in the world of beasts… Ah, yes! In the world of beasts, such things were everyday occurrences. Driven by instinct alone, there was no telling what they might do. The culprit had to be him. It had to be that Onda bastard who had crawled through the thicket like a snake.

Kamiya approached the waitress from that night and asked whether that guy had come around since then, but she replied that he hadn’t shown up even once. It was growing increasingly suspicious. For him to abandon such an obsession with Hiroko—a love so deep he’d even given her a ring—was simply unthinkable. Wasn’t his refusal to retreat here because he was devising an even greedier plot instead? Wasn’t it because he’d been scheming like a beast to drag Hiroko to his lair and make her wholly his own?

Kamiya was now certain of it. But he lacked the courage to report Onda to the police. If that proved mistaken, there would be no recovering from it. He needed to investigate further. He himself had to obtain clearer evidence. First of all—did he even truly know Onda’s background or where he lived?

So, the next day, he took the afternoon off from work and set out for the Musashino Forest he remembered, determined to confirm the suspicious individual’s address.

After getting lost numerous times, he finally found a forest that seemed to fit the description and got out of the car. Then, along a narrow branch-strewn path, parting the ominous thickets underfoot, he walked toward his destination deep in the woods. The sky hung heavily overcast, windless and not unbearably cold, yet the utterly motionless grass blades and treetops carried an otherworldly air. Even as he tried to suppress it, memories of the previous night’s terror resurfaced, threatening to overwhelm him with the urge to flee—but for his lover’s sake, he steeled himself. Pushing through the thicket at last, he stepped into the dimly lit forest.

There lay an eerie building surrounded by towering evergreen trees. A moss-covered blue brick wall enclosed an old-fashioned wooden Western-style house—so antiquated it seemed startling such architecture still existed—its steep slate roof pierced by a square red-brick chimney that jutted abruptly upward while spewing vigorous smoke. Against the gloomy decay of the structure itself, this smoke alone appeared incongruously energetic. The occupant must have been unusually susceptible to cold. Or perhaps there existed some peculiar purpose behind it all.

The gate’s rusted iron-plated door stood firmly shut without even a crack to peer through, and the vast estate grounds lay utterly silent, devoid of any human presence. Kamiya, intending to circle around the brick wall, began walking while uneasily treading on damp fallen leaves—but just as he reached the back of the building, he suddenly heard a strange noise and jolted to a halt.

It was less a sound than a voice of some thing. But it was not human. A human couldn’t possibly produce such a terrifying growl. An animal. It was undoubtedly the growl of a beast far more ferocious than any dog. Was there some creature kept in this gloomy mansion? Suppressing his pounding heart and straining his ears as he stood motionless, he heard it again after a moment—a bestial roar: “Grrrowl!”

At the same moment, something came flying from inside the brick wall and landed at his feet like a hurled stone. He gasped, his face paling as he looked about to bolt—but upon closer inspection, it posed no danger. What had been thrown out appeared to be a rolled-up handkerchief. He returned and tried kicking it with his foot when—from inside the handkerchief—a single ring clattered out. "Oh, this ring looks familiar," he thought, bending down to pick it up—when suddenly he noticed the shape of characters stained red on the handkerchief.

Blood! This couldn’t be paint. It was definitely human blood. Characters written in blood. When he hurriedly spread it out, there—in unevenly shaded, crude, haphazard characters—

"Help me, I'll be killed." was written there. In her desperation, she must have bitten off her own finger and used it as a brush to write. Though he couldn't identify any distinctive handwriting features, Kamiya felt certain this was Hiroko's writing. Confined within the mansion without pen or paper, she must have resorted to this brutal method. Ah, I remember now. This ring proves it's Hiroko—isn't this the very ring Onda forced onto her finger that night?

The moment he thought this, Kamiya forgot both his eerie unease and fear. Hiroko was now about to be killed by that monster. I must save her. Even at the cost of my life, I must rescue her.

He slipped repeatedly on the fallen leaves, nearly tumbling over each time, yet charged toward the gate with tremendous force. Upon reaching it, he suddenly clenched his fist and began wildly pounding on the iron-plated door while— “Please open up. Is anyone there?” he continued to shout. But no matter how much he pounded or shouted, there was no response from within the mansion. Kamiya no longer had the luxury of thinking about the consequences. Suddenly placing his foot on the door frame, he easily climbed over it, rushed to what seemed to be the building’s entrance, and knocked on the door there.

Then, this time, there was an unexpectedly swift response,

“Who’s there? Making such a racket!”

With a shout, someone flung open the door from within.

Inside the Cage

The one who opened the door and stuck out his face was an elderly man with pure white hair and beard, bent at the waist as if broken, wearing a suit. Finding the other party unexpectedly to be a frail old man, Kamiya was thrown off and, in a somewhat calmer tone,

“Is this Mr. Onda’s residence?” he first asked. “Yes, I am Onda. And who might you be?” The old man answered in an unhurried tone unbefitting a mansion where murders might occur, then looked back and forth between Kamiya and the tightly shut gate door. “No, I wish to meet the younger Mr. Onda.” “I am Kamiya, whom you had the pleasure of meeting at a café in Kyōbashi some time ago.”

“Ah, when you say ‘the younger one,’ you mean my son, I take it?” “My son? I’m afraid he’s out at the moment.” The old man feigned ignorance and made no attempt to engage. This guy’s not someone to let your guard down around. He may be a decrepit old man, but his eyes aren’t those of an ordinary person. “In that case, I’d like to ask. “Might there be a young woman at your residence?” “Her name is Hiroko—she works at the café.”

He asked resolutely. "A young woman? I've no idea... But standing about talking won't do—why don't you step inside?" "Let me hear your story properly." "Climbing gates and such—you're quite the brazen one, but we'll let that pass." Suddenly, the old man grinned unctuously and turned solicitous. Something's wrong. There must be some ulterior motive. But Kamiya, too overwrought to notice, followed meekly as the old man led him into the house.

The room he was led into was a gloomy Western-style chamber with high, small windows, reminiscent of a prison cell. “I am but a decrepit scholar—you see—and since I don’t engage in social interactions with society at large… Well… I’ve no proper room to entertain guests.”

It was indeed a bizarre room, just as the old man had described. On one side stood a large bookshelf crammed with antiquated Western books, their gilt lettering faded, while on another shelf, glass bottles of varying sizes—probably containing chemicals—were lined up beneath a layer of dust, labels affixed to them. Below these sat what resembled a laboratory bench, cluttered haphazardly with test tubes, flasks, beakers, and distillation apparatuses.

In another corner stood a glass-paneled shelf where three or four animal skulls—flatter than human ones—lay scattered, their eye sockets caked with dust, while on the tier below, eerie silver toolboxes like those used by surgeons, half-rusted and ominous, were lined up in a row. Beside the glass shelf was installed a large apparatus resembling a potter’s wheel. It was exactly like a medieval alchemist’s workshop.

In the center of the room stood a desk with peeling varnish—the kind you might find in a village office—beside which two battered chairs had been tossed aside. The old man settled into one of the chairs and urged Kamiya to take the other.

“Now, please take a seat. “My son should be back shortly.” “If my son doesn’t return, I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you anything, you see.” “As you can see, I’m engrossed in such research, you see.” Kamiya wanted to venture further inside, but unable to do so, he restlessly repeated the same questions once more.

“You truly don’t know? No matter how you look at it, there’s a stranger’s daughter confined within this very house—you can’t possibly be unaware of it.” “Wh-what are you implying? A young woman is being confined here? That must be some kind of mistake. Whether it’s me or my son, we are not such villains. On what evidence do you base such a baseless accusation?”

The old man glared at him with large eyes that held a sinister gleam and declared harshly. “Do you wish to see evidence?” “The evidence is this.” “Just now, someone threw this from inside your house over the fence.” While speaking, Kamiya Yoshio took out the bloodstained handkerchief from before and spread it out before the old man’s eyes.

When the old man deciphered it, he did appear genuinely startled for a moment, but then casually began to laugh, “Ahahahaha! You say someone threw this from the house?” “You must have been dreaming.” “In this house, there are only my son and me, and since my son is out, I am now all alone.” “There’s no reason I would throw such a thing…”

“Then take a look at this.” “This ring was given to Hiroko—the waitress—by your son.” “Do you still insist you don’t recognize it?” The old man seemed even more startled upon seeing the ring. His swarthy face—resembling his white-bearded son’s—appeared to flush crimson for an instant. Yet he stubbornly maintained his pretense of ignorance. “I know nothing of this.” “If you’re so distrustful… why not search the house yourself?” “I’ll even guide you through it.”

he suggested something unexpected. Kamiya had to be cautious. Beneath the old man’s words, some terrible scheme might have been concealed. However, in his desperate need to confirm Hiroko’s safety, he had no room left in his mind to consider anything else.

“Then, please show me around.” “Now that I’ve come all this way, I want to return home completely reassured.” Kamiya stood up and hurriedly urged the old man. “Then please come this way.”

The old man reluctantly rose from his chair with a grunt, clasped his hands behind his hunched back, and tottered out of the room. When they had gone a short way down the dimly lit corridor, there stood a sturdy wooden door with a bolt on the outside. “Let me have you take a look inside here first.”

As he spoke, the old man unfastened the bolt, took the lead, and entered the room.

Kamiya followed him in, but the room was too dim to make out anything.

“Are the windows shut?” “Indeed.” “I’ll open the window now, so please wait a moment.” The old man was making something rattle in the dimness, but soon after a loud bang sounded, the room suddenly plunged into total darkness.

“What’s going on?” When he called out in alarm, the old man began laughing somewhere far off. “Hahahaha! It’s no use.” “I thought I’d have you kindly take a rest there for a while.” “Well, please make yourself comfortable. Hahahaha!”

And his voice gradually faded into the distance.

With a start, he realized and charged toward the room’s entrance—but it was already too late. The thick door had shut tightly—likely bolted from the outside—and no matter how he pushed or pulled, it didn’t budge an inch. Kamiya had been incredibly careless and fallen into a trap. Taking advantage of the dim light, the old man pretended to open a window and, seizing the moment of his carelessness, slipped out into the corridor to bolt it from the outside. He threw himself against the door with his whole body multiple times, but upon realizing it had no effect, he next groped around to check for any windows—only to find the walls completely boarded up, with not a single window-like opening to be seen. It was a storage room-like space, about three-tatami-mat-sized, with absolutely no means of natural light. But for a mere storage room, it was far too sturdy. Could it be that this was akin to a cage meant for confining animals? It did seem to be exactly that. Ah, had he been confined like a beast in a cage?

Cat and Mouse Kamiya, realizing there was no hope of escape, was overwhelmed by intense regret and collapsed in a heap in the darkness.

I acted rashly. I should've first considered my own strength before panicking. And my mistake was underestimating that senile old man. That bastard was anything but senile—the way he locked me in this sealed room wasn't just swift, it surpassed what any young man could manage. But what on earth am I supposed to do now? If I don't have the strength to break out of this cage-like sealed room, there's no other way. With no means to alert anyone, will I just starve to death here?

Ah, but where was Hiroko now? Because I had tried to rescue her—without her even knowing the trouble I was in—she must have been suffering the same imprisonment. But since her cell had let her throw a handkerchief, it must have been in a room with a window somewhere on the back side. But that was strange. If she had thrown that handkerchief upon seeing me or hearing my footsteps, then without such roundabout methods, shouldn’t she have just called for help?

I wondered if she'd been gagged or something. No—if they meant to gag her properly... If they'd restrained her hands...

So did she throw that note without any particular person in mind? And I wonder if she intended to wait for someone passing by to pick it up. That seemed to be the most plausible explanation. Even so, what perfect timing—she threw that handkerchief right when I happened to be passing by. No, no—it wasn’t good timing at all. Now that I think about it, that was actually a mistake. The only one who knows Onda’s house is me, and now that I’ve become the biter bit, it’s safe to say there’s no hope left of rescuing Hiroko. Ah, what should I do?

As Kamiya brooded resentfully in the darkness, a guttural roar—this time alarmingly close—suddenly pierced the air. It seemed to come from right beyond the plank wall. There was indeed a wild beast. Ah, that was it. The reason for this cage-like sealed room became clear—the house undoubtedly kept wild beasts. Even within Tokyo Metropolis, outside zoos, there were plenty of wealthy individuals who privately raised such creatures. Here too might lurk some terrifying beasts.

When he had thought that far, the startling realization jerked him upright without conscious thought. Ah—could it be that senile old bastard means to drive that beast in here? There’s no way something so ludicrous—no, if we’re speaking of ludicrousness, this entire mansion already reeks of madness. The notion of an alchemist’s chamber existing in Tokyo’s outskirts, of Hiroko and me being imprisoned here—all of it defies belief. Yet since these very impossibilities are unfolding before me now, who could predict what deranged catastrophe might erupt next?

The darkness spawned endless delusions, and he felt on the verge of madness. Kamiya began pacing around the room as though he himself were a caged beast. As he paced about like this, he suddenly noticed a gap in the plank wall. Upon seeing it, even if some terrifying beast might be baring its fangs on the other side, he couldn’t help but peer in.

He crouched down and pressed his eye to the gap. Ah, this wasn’t a dream… was it? There, indeed, was a wild beast... A single large leopard lay crouching, was it not? It was indeed a sturdy plank-walled room as wide as a warehouse, but in one corner, part of an actual iron cage could be seen, within which the leopard’s upper body lay sprawled. Outside the cage lay an expanse of earthen floor, and seeing how sturdy the plank walls were, they might sometimes let the leopard out of its cage to roam about the room.

Perhaps it was his imagination, but an unbearable stench of wild beasts suddenly assailed his nostrils. It wasn’t just the stench. Why was it so stiflingly hot here? Until now—whether due to his agitation or simply not noticing—he hadn’t felt it, but as he pressed his eye to the gap, the warmth seemed to be radiating from the adjacent room. Moreover, upon closer inspection, besides the light from the window, he could make out a faint red glow that seemed to flicker restlessly. Ah, I see. Though it couldn’t be seen from here, a stove had been lit for the leopard, which disliked the cold. The chimney smoke I had observed earlier from outside the wall must have been rising from this room.

He would grow tired of half-crouching, squat down away from the gap, but after a while, unable to endure his anxiety, he would peer through it again. And so, alternating between squatting and peering, time passed relentlessly as he failed to form any coherent plan.

After nearly an hour had passed, as he lay exhausted and crouching, a woman’s scream suddenly pierced through from beyond the plank wall. It was a long, drawn-out scream of desperate sorrow.

The moment Kamiya heard it, he immediately grasped its horrifying implication. While feeling his heart suddenly pounding wildly, he abruptly stood up and pressed his eye to the gap. There lay what he had anticipated—or rather, something far more terrifying than he had anticipated.

In the earthen floor before the leopard’s cage lay a young woman—her hair disheveled, clothes torn, skin exposed—collapsed in a posture of fending something off with both hands. Had she come running in from an entrance invisible from here? No—more likely, someone had shoved her, causing her to collapse into this room against her will. Kamiya realized instantly—with a single glance—that this was Hiroko, the one he had been desperately searching for. Ah—she had been thrown into the beast’s room. Before long, that leopard’s cage would be opened. And the blood-starved beast would crawl over her, licking its lips.

He lacked even the strength to cry out, merely clung to the plank wall, as clammy sweat streamed down his entire body.

However, his assumption proved incorrect. It soon became clear that what was attacking Hiroko was not the leopard, but rather a human more cruel than any leopard. The fact that she had raised both hands to defend herself had been against that human.

A man rapidly came into view. It was Onda. It was Onda—the son. That monster who had once slithered through the grass like a snake, two phosphorescent lights gleaming in the night. Look there—he was indeed crawling on all fours, just as before! For this fiend, crawling like a beast felt more natural than standing upright. He was not human. That eerie way of crawling toward Hiroko—could that be human? A beast. It was a form that could only belong to a beast.

The monster’s eyes blazed like two blue phosphorescent lights, glowing fiercely even in broad daylight. It spoke of how frenzied he was. His glistening slick lips split open with each breath, revealing unnervingly white teeth, while the jet-black feline tongue flickered between them like a serpent’s tongue.

The monster, much like a cat toying with a mouse, crawled toward the terrified Hiroko from every direction—lunging abruptly only to withdraw just before striking—appearing to prolong this cruel game with evident delight.

Two Wild Beasts Onda wore a wrinkled black Western suit that clung tightly to his sinewy, lean limbs, rendering him indistinguishable from a gigantic black leopard.

His crimson, thick lips glistened slickly, and between his white teeth, that beast’s jet-black tongue peered out sinisterly. Because it was a dimly lit room with few windows, he could clearly discern the eerie phosphorescent light of his eyes—like will-o’-the-wisps—glowing in the darkness. The eerie fire of blue and yellow flames burning in the depths of his eyes seemed to grow ever more brilliant the more frenzied he became. With those eyes, that mouth, those limbs, the black Human Leopard now leapt upon his beautiful prey.

Their bodies became tumbling black and white orbs rolling across the wide earthen floor. A black hand and a white hand tangled violently together. Hiroko continued her desperate resistance without even uttering a cry—bravely enduring. Each time their entangled forms disappeared from view through the peephole, Kamiya felt his heart stop mid-beat. He forgot his own danger, repeatedly nearly crying out despite himself. But what good would screaming do in this sealed room? Not only would it prove useless—such an outburst would only worsen matters further. Gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, drenched in clammy sweat, he could do nothing but cling to the knothole.

The monster had not yet exerted his full strength. He was merely toying with her like a cat playing with a mouse, but for the frail Hiroko, it was a life-and-death struggle that left her gasping for breath. Each time they grappled, each time she was knocked down, each time they rolled across the floor—her clothes and undergarments were torn away—until by now almost nothing remained to cover her body. She did not make a single sound. Whether she had realized that screaming would be futile, or whether her parched throat—dried out from terror and exhaustion—no longer held the strength to produce a sound.

Amidst this commotion, the leopard in its cage could not have remained unaffected. The beast let out a terrifying growl as it stood up and began dashing left and right inside the cage. And his frenzy grew increasingly bizarre the more fiercely the two humans struggled. The horror of its frenzied act—leaping onto and scaling the cage’s iron bars. The terror of the gushing roar from its gaping crimson maw. Hiroko’s pale body was flung about time and again by Onda, or collapsed as she fled, rolling across the floor—but when she fell for the last time, it was by chance before the leopard’s cage door.

She clung desperately to the iron bars of the door, struggling to rise, when suddenly her pale hand caught on the latch. And yet, even in her frenzied state, she understood what that latch meant.

Hiroko turned abruptly and glared at Onda, who was bracing himself to lunge at her once more. Crimson bloodshot eyes, nostrils swollen grotesquely wide, lips gaping like a crucian carp’s—her face, pallid and tinged with the indigo-blue pallor of death—contorted into a grotesque grin. Kamiya instantly grasped the meaning behind that smile and involuntarily shut his eyes. Ah—the final moment had finally come. The time when everything would end had arrived.

A clang rang out—an uncanny noise. Kamiya shuddered violently at the noise, but though he tried not to look, he could not help but see. When he opened his eyes again, the cage door was already open. Hiroko had undone the latch. But when he looked for the leopard, there was no trace of it left in the cage. And then, on the earthen floor, a tangled mass of yellow and black—the leopard leapt in one bound at its keeper, Onda. A heartrending scream—"Waaah!"—erupted from the monster Onda’s mouth. Even he was struck with extreme astonishment at this sudden attack. But he, too, was a beast in human form. He did not shrink back from the real leopard. Though outmatched, he fought.

A battle of beasts so terrifying the world had never seen. The yellow leopard, black Onda, and white Hiroko—now, before Kamiya’s eyes, these three living beings formed a vortex of terror unlike anything the world had ever seen, grappling, colliding, leaping, striking down, tumbling, and whirling madly. In this dizzying clash of colors, his head went numb, his eyes were dazzled, and he had even lost the capacity to feel terror. Clashing crimson maws—oh, they were locked in a savage bite! Even Onda—still human in form—split open his mouth to the ears, bared white teeth, and sank them into the fray. Then four glaring eyes—phosphorescent flames burning in the dimness—darted through shadows as a ferocious roar shook the room’s four walls.

But Onda was by no means a match for the real beast. Bit by bit, he was forced into the corner of the room. The beast’s sharp claws tore through Onda’s Western-style clothes and sank firmly into his shoulder. Onda strained with all his might to hold back the leopard’s jaw with both arms, but his strength had begun to wane. The bloodthirsty fangs ground relentlessly toward his throat.

Had it been left for just one more minute, the monster Onda would undoubtedly have ceased to exist in this world. Kamiya and Hiroko’s sworn enemy must have perished. And in later days, that great evil which would go on to stir the world and spill the blood of the living could have been prevented before it ever took root.

But whether by fortune or misfortune—no, no, in truth, it was most unfortunate—Onda’s life was halted just one step from death. In the final instant, a savior appeared.

Kamiya, who had been holding his breath and staring intently, suddenly felt a bizarre impulse reverberate through his eardrums. The scene before his eyes seemed to sway unsteadily... —It was a gunshot. Someone had fired a shot to save Onda from mortal peril. Beneath the rising white smoke, the beast—limbs stretched out stiffly like a taxidermied leopard—rolled over once, twice, thrice, then finally lay still, fully extended.

The monster Onda, who had barely clung to life, was now utterly drained and lacked even the strength to suddenly rise up.

Then, lumbering into Kamiya’s field of vision with a gun in one hand was the white-haired, white-bearded old man who had previously confined him to this sealed room—Onda’s father. It was his father who had saved his son from mortal peril. “Who opened the cage? It couldn’t have been you,” he said, sharpening his piercing gaze as he glared at Hiroko’s half-naked body collapsed before the cage. “That girl there?” “That’s right,” Onda spat hatefully, his breath labored. “That bitch. That bitch tried to get the leopard to eat me—she went and opened the cage!”

Onda, breathing laboriously, shouted hatefully.

“Hmm, I see.” “In that case, this girl is your enemy.” “No—more than that—she’s the enemy of my precious leopard.” “When I shot this creature dead, how sorrowful I felt... how deeply I regretted it!” As he spoke, the old man crouched before the leopard’s corpse and—as though unable to bear his grief—stroked its back while offering a long, silent prayer. Then he abruptly stood and declared in a fierce tone: “Very well. I won’t restrain you any longer.” “Do as you please.” “This is vengeance for my precious leopard.” “Do with her however you wish.”

Having spat out these words, he vanished from view.

The Haunted House’s Spectral Flames

Kamiya was almost completely drained of strength. But he could not tear his eyes away from the peephole. Like a Noh mask of a vengeful spirit fused to the Bride-Terrorizing Hag’s visage, his face remained glued to the wooden wall, unable to pull away. The monster Onda soon regained his strength and stood up, licking his lips. His ashen face contorted, a chilling smile spreading across it. He was likely rejoicing that he could now take revenge on this lovely prey openly and without restraint.

Looking at Hiroko—ah, whether by fortune or misfortune—she had yet to faint, her gaze brimming with terror from the very depths of her being as she stared at Onda. With his phosphorescent eyes blazing and teeth bared, the monster advanced toward her inch by inch.

Ah, what did Kamiya witness, what did he hear, in those thirty minutes that followed? It was a hell beyond hell. Every terrifying thing, every ugly thing, every color, every movement, every sound turned his brain to dementia, blinded his eyes, and deafened his ears. And finally, when the blood-mad monster Onda—with no outlet for the aftershocks of his frenzy—leapt about wildly and vanished from view, all that remained was a riot of glaring colors that had lost all semblance of human form. The soul of a woman had ascended amidst suffering unlike any ever known. And so, Kamiya had lost both his lover’s soul and, at the same time, even her physical body entirely from this world.

He lay collapsed limply on the sealed room’s floor and remained motionless like a dead man for a very long time. Drenched in greasy sweat across his entire body, he stayed still like a crumpled scrap of paper. But at last, his shoulders began to heave like waves. A sob as faint as insect hum began to rise. Gradually, gradually, that sound swelled louder until finally, he writhed and wailed like a child, weeping uncontrollably.

Before he knew it, dusk had filled the surroundings, and the already dim sealed room had become an impenetrable darkness where not even outlines could be seen. Enveloped in that darkness, his weeping continued endlessly.

When he suddenly became aware, there was someone calling out to him in a loud voice. Moreover, into the sealed room he had thought was only darkness, a single red beam of light shone from somewhere. He reflexively braced himself and turned toward the source of the voice. “Now, now—what are you crying about? What’s so sorrowful, eh?” Along with the voice, he saw the eyes and nose of its owner framed in a square, floating in mid-air.

It was Onda’s father. In the wooden door at the entrance, a small square peephole had been made, and he was now opening its cover, holding up a candle as he peered into the sealed room. Kamiya stared back at the old man’s face and did not utter a single word. He didn’t know what to say. If he opened his mouth, his voice would have quivered pathetically. And he felt an unbearable anxiety about life itself—as though some force were pressing down to smother it.

“Oh, what’s happened to your face?” In the candlelight, the old man recognized Kamiya’s transformed face. “Hah! So that’s how it is.” “You know about that, don’t you?” “But why?” “Ah, that’s it.” “There was a gap in the planks of the wall.” “You saw all that through there, didn’t you?” “That must be it.” “Hey, you—did you see it or not?”

But Kamiya did not answer. Even without answering, his expression told everything.

“Hmph. You saw it, didn’t you?” “If you saw it—and I’m sorry to say this—I cannot let you leave here ever again.” “Let me make this clear.” “Why I can’t let you out—you should understand that much without explanation.” “You must resign yourself.” “Ha ha ha ha ha!”

Then, with a heartless snap, the peephole cover closed; the old man’s departure; and the room returned to its original darkness.

The old man meant that now that his son’s murder had been witnessed, he could not let him live. At any moment, either that Human Leopard son of his would be dispatched to his sealed room to subject him to the same fate as Hiroko, or the old man’s gun muzzle would thrust through the peephole to take precise aim. Even if that didn’t happen—were he left like this—he would surely starve to death before long. Even if he tried to escape, how could he possibly breach these thick plank walls, this sturdy plank door—with no tools and only his own strength?

Ah, I’ve done something unthinkable. Even if it was to save my lover, venturing alone into this demonic realm without gauging my own strength or informing others was an irreparable blunder. First, I should have informed the police. And then I should have secured strong reinforcements and gone to rescue Hiroko.

But those were already irreparable regrets. Now he had to think of a way to escape this sealed room—even if it proved impossible. And he had to report their crimes to the police and avenge Hiroko. This was the least he could do as a token for his lover. If even Kamiya were to die here, their evil deeds would remain unknown, and that fearsome half-human, half-beast monster would never be punished. That would be too unreasonable. He must receive due punishment. No matter what it took, he had to escape this place and atone for his lover’s brutal death.

But by what possible means? Ah, by what possible means could I escape this sealed room? Could such a thing even be possible?

As he pondered, Kamiya suddenly reached into his coat pocket. Then, suddenly, like an inspiration, a strange idea came to mind.

“Oh! I had matches!” They’re right here.

He took them out from his pocket, checked the number of matchsticks, and struck one with a swish. A red light tore through the darkness. By that light, as he surveyed every corner of the sealed room, his plan grew increasingly concrete. "That’s right—there’s no other way." "I’ll take my chances and try to take them down."

He hurriedly began taking off his clothes. When fully naked, he selected only thin garments—shirt, undershorts, dress shirt, necktie, detachable collar—bundled them together, then pulled his suit jacket over bare skin and threw on his overcoat. He then combed through every pocket, collecting all flammable materials—handkerchiefs, old letters, tissues, notebooks—combined them with fabric items like shirts into a bundle rolled tight against the plank wall at the room’s rear.

He intended to set fire to it. Was he planning to burn down the demon’s lair? But if he did such a thing, wouldn’t Kamiya himself be the first to burn to death? What a reckless scheme he had devised! In the grip of ongoing frenzy, had he perhaps lost his mind?

No, that was not the case. He had resolved upon a single reckless venture. He had devised a perilous gambit—a one-in-a-thousand chance. After wasting several matches, he finally got the paper materials to burst into flames. The fire spread to the sleeve of the white shirt. When he saw this, Kamiya suddenly began stomping the ground. He clenched both fists and violently pounded the plank wall. Then—though nothing seemed funny—he threw his head back, raised his voice to its limit, and burst into madman's laughter.

“Wahahahaha”—a sinister laugh echoed throughout the house.

After he kept this up for a while, just as expected, footsteps sounded outside the plank door, and someone slid open the peephole. Taking that as his signal, Kamiya fell instantly silent, swiftly crouched by the entrance out of view from the peephole, and poised himself, waiting impatiently for the plank door to open.

The one who had grown suspicious of his laughter and come to investigate was, as expected, Onda’s father. When he looked, there in the depths of the room were flames blazing fiercely. If left unattended, they looked ready to spread to the plank walls at any moment. The flustered old man, with no time to think, suddenly removed the latch, flung open the plank door, and rushed into the room to smother the flames. Now! Kamiya slipped under the old man’s arm and dashed out into the corridor like a gust of wind. Then, mustering every ounce of his strength, he slammed the plank door shut from behind the old man and dropped the latch. Now the roles were reversed—the old man had been locked inside the cage.

Having done that, Kamiya retraced the corridor from memory, passed through the old man’s study, and flew out the entrance. Then, he scaled the iron gate of that tightly shut entrance, leapt down, dashed through the darkened forest as fast as he could, and emerged into a pathless grassland.

The sky was completely overcast, with no stars visible; a cold wind rustled through the grass, making it sway like waves. When he looked back, there was the demonic forest assaulting his vision with its pitch-blackness; within it flickered intermittently what might have been the eerie house’s lamplight—or perhaps, was it not instead the phosphorescent glow of the monster’s eyes, now aware of his escape and giving chase? When such associations suddenly arose, Kamiya felt a terror so intense his legs gave way. And even the rustling of the grass seemed not from the wind but from the slithering form of a beastman creeping snake-like toward him, until finally, across the expanse of darkened thickets—here and there—visions of countless snake-like, glaring phosphorescent lights began to appear.

He ran. He continued running in a frantic daze. His throat was parched bone-dry, his tongue had hardened like a stone, and he felt as though his heart might leap up into his throat.

Whether it was a road or not, without even knowing the direction, he simply ran and ran—but at last, he emerged onto the highway. Sparse streetlights flickered between rows of trees where a lone house stood—a thatched-roof building resembling a candy store. When he reached it, he suddenly threw open the shoji door with a clatter and stumbled into its dirt-floored entryway. By the time this matter reached the local police station and several officers—with Kamiya, who had somewhat regained his composure, guiding them—headed toward the eerie house in the forest, a considerable time had passed. And when they, each holding up flashlights, followed a side path from the highway and emerged from the grove of trees, Kamiya at their forefront found something that made him halt in shock.

“What’s wrong? You—do you see something there?”

One of the police officers shouted. They too had heard about the mysterious man and found this manhunt rather eerie. “Look, look at that. What on earth is that fire?” At Kamiya’s words, when they looked in that direction, indeed, around what seemed to be the eerie house in the forest, a mass of flames blazed fiercely like a large will-o’-the-wisp. “Oh, that’s a fire!” “Yeah, that’s right. Hey you—you said you set fire to shirts and such when you escaped, didn’t you? It must’ve spread from that.”

The police officers spoke in unison. “No, that can’t be possible. “It was just a single scrap of fabric. “The old man must have stamped it out. “And if that had been the source, it would have had to spread much sooner.”

Kamiya couldn’t contain his bewilderment. Resolved to go regardless, they began walking. As they drew nearer to the forest with each step, the flames swelled moment by moment. By the time they arrived, it had already become a full-blown, uncontrollable inferno. The crackling pops of combusting matter; tongues of crimson-black flame gushing from every window; billowing black smoke; the thunderous crash of part of the roof collapsing already; sparks flaring upward—the entire forest blazed bright as daylight, every tree trunk half-stained vermilion, standing out starkly against the glare.

“Hmm, they set the fire themselves to cover up their crimes. By now they must’ve vanished somewhere. You—someone get back to the station and arrange a cordon. Then notify the fire department. At this point it’s beyond our jurisdiction. Either way, containing the blaze comes first!”

In response to the senior officer’s command, one policeman dashed off, swinging his flashlight beam across the path. The remaining people circled around the flames at a distance, keeping watch for any suspicious figures around the eerie house, but there was no way the villains would still be lingering at the scene by then, and within the forest, now brightly illuminated, there was not a single trace of anything suspicious.

And so, the Onda father and son—in a desperate last resort after their murder witness had escaped—set fire to their own lair, obliterated all traces of their crimes, and vanished without a trace.

It went without saying that they had vanished, fearing punishment. But even if they feared punishment, could that bloodthirsty beastman truly spend the rest of his life concealing his claws and fangs? No—more than that—could they ever forget their resentment toward Kamiya, who had burned their precious lair and exposed their crimes to the authorities? They were the ones who had coldly taken Hiroko’s life merely for losing one beast. Compared to that, this hatred—layered a hundredfold—could they possibly be satisfied with merely targeting Kamiya’s life?

Could Kamiya possibly remain safe? Even if his own life remained secure, might something even more tormenting and distressing yet befall him? From Kamiya's perspective, the Onda father and son were enemies he could never sufficiently hate. He resolved to comb through every last root and stone to hunt them down and avenge this grudge.

A feud woven with profound enmity—ah, what fate lay in wait for them on the path ahead?

Egawa Ranko

Over a year had passed since that cursed day when Kamiya Yoshio was forced to witness the bizarre and brutal end of his lover—an ordeal unlike anything anyone had ever experienced.

At the time, crushed beneath that overwhelming shock, his naturally bright and cheerful personality seemed to completely transform. By day in waking visions, by night in dreams—the death-twisted face of his lover Hiroko merged with that monster’s visage, neither human nor beast, terrorizing him endlessly with every hellish tableau imaginable. He found himself perpetually sensing mortal danger, convinced the beastman father and son—seething over their lost den—were honing claws of vengeance.

But the power of time is terrifying. The passage of time inevitably washes away all sorrow, fear, and resentment, thinning them until they fade unnoticed.

After that, despite all police searches, the Human Leopard father and son vanished without a trace. There were even those who speculated they might have fled abroad. It seemed there was no longer any need to fear their revenge.

From Kamiya’s mind，day by day，the memory of the beast faded away. No，it wasn’t just that which had faded. Even the memory of Hiroko，the lover he had once adored so deeply，and even the heartache of losing her had now dimly faded away. The reason for this was that Kamiya had gained a new，second lover... No，one must not accuse him of callousness. The reason he had fallen in love with her was，in truth，precisely because he had needed to forget Hiroko of the past.

At that time in the capital, two rival major review theaters were overwhelming all other entertainments and monopolizing the youth’s fervor. Among them, in one of these rival troupes hailed as its queen songstress, there existed a beautiful girl named Egawa Ranko.

A voice alluringly suited to Japanese tastes; a strikingly beautiful face; a mysteriously sweet smile that enraptured and electrified every young man and woman in the capital; a full-figured, mature body in the spring of her nineteenth year—this revered actress, the object of the entire capital’s longing, was Kamiya’s second lover.

Up until then, Kamiya had shown almost no interest in review theater. But one day, as he was casually flipping through the pages of an entertainment pictorial, a close-up photo of Egawa Ranko suddenly caught his eye. For an instant, he felt it might be a photograph of the deceased Hiroko—so striking was the resemblance between this songstress and his former lover.

He abruptly became a review fan and began frequenting the box seats at Daito Theater nearly every day. As he watched Ranko’s stage performances again and again, his new passion blazed up with increasing intensity. The songstress Egawa Ranko possessed every bit of beauty and every ounce of charm that Hiroko had once embodied—now magnified tenfold. Regarding Kamiya’s innate longing, it seemed Hiroko had been but a shadow—Ranko was the true form he had finally discovered.

As one of many young men vying for her attention, Kamiya delighted in inviting Ranko out to share tea together. Their drives alone together also began to occur repeatedly, two or three times over.

The young men were no longer Kamiya’s rivals.

Kamiya was not an ugly young man. Though a company employee, he was the son of a director with a promising future. He never lacked spending money. Moreover, he possessed a passion that was no mere whim. It came as no surprise that Ranko too began showing him marked favor. Kamiya now comported himself like her fiancé; their relationship had progressed to him visiting her dressing room and escorting her to and from home. They had secretly passed late nights together at suburban ryotei establishments more than once or twice.

To him, the present Ranko was, so to speak, the rebirth of the Hiroko of old. Thus, precisely because he had needed to forget Hiroko, he did not even recall her; yet along with that, it was nothing short of miraculous how even those terrifying memories of the beastman Onda had faded all the more. He had now come to regard even the very existence of such a monster in this world as something akin to an absurd fairy tale.

It was spring, and flowers were in bloom. People found love, their hearts soaring skyward.

But it is precisely in the shade of blooming flowers that an eerie, supernatural black wind lies in wait. It was precisely when he had momentarily forgotten its existence that the demonic entity stood right behind him.

Eventually, one day, Kamiya finally had to recall—with a shudder—those terrifying eyes of the Human Leopard.

“Why did you stand me up last night and go home?” “Even though you promised so firmly.” “I’ve made a complete fool of myself in front of the dressing room attendant.” The next day, when Kamiya accused her of breaking their promise, Ranko answered in this manner.

“Are you teasing me?” “Or have you become so forgetful?” “You properly escorted me home.” “By the way, why were you so quiet in the car last night?” “It was a bit strange.”

“What? You’re saying I escorted you home?” “Is that really true?” “Couldn’t it be a misunderstanding from the day before yesterday?”

Kamiya asked back, startled. “Oh… then… that wasn’t you?” “But…”

Though he had been strangely silent throughout, when she spoke to him as she always did with Kamiya, he responded appropriately—and when they parted, hadn’t they even exchanged their usual lovers’ long handshake? If that wasn’t Kamiya…

“You’re not saying that just to scare me, are you?” “Really?” “So it really wasn’t you?” No matter how much she pressed him, Kamiya’s answer remained unchanged.

“Oh… Then, who on earth was that?”

Ranko was suddenly seized by unfathomable terror and rapidly turned pale. The sight of her terrified expression—though inevitable—being a perfect mirror of the deceased Hiroko’s jolted Kamiya. And, as a natural progression, he could not help but recall the terrifying visage of that Human Leopard—the very thing that had once made Hiroko tremble and shudder with such an expression. “You didn’t see that man’s face? Without even seeing his face, you just decided it was me?”

“Yes, but even *you* sometimes keep the mask on until we part… If I had doubted even a little, I would’ve tried to take *his* mask off… But I was so convinced it was *you*…”

Ah, what a ridiculous thing had become popular—this “Review Mask” nonsense. It was precisely because such absurdity spread that these mistakes occurred. He who had once heartily praised those masks as an inspired touch adding flair to revue performances now found himself unable to refrain from cursing them.

The Mask Era

“Review Mask.”

It was truly a bizarre trend.

Humans, from time immemorial, have had a marked tendency to feel bashful about exposing their natural-born faces in public. In Japan, head coverings, woven hats, hoods, and the like long concealed people’s faces across eras. In the West too, there was an era when every man wore wigs. There was an era when every woman wore thick veils. The fact that masked balls are welcomed by people and that eye wigs sell well to cherry blossom viewers is undoubtedly a manifestation of the same human psychology.

Exploiting that human weakness was how the “Review Mask” was devised. At first, it began when a delinquent youth or someone, on a whim, put on a toy mask and entered the review theater’s audience seats. When one imitator, then two, and soon scattered mask-wearing spectators began catching people’s eyes, shrewd merchants had already branded them “Review Masks,” applied for trademark registration, and flooded the market with identical celluloid masks.

Young spectators—especially students and shop clerks—eagerly utilized these masks to hide their faces behind them and freely catcalled at the stage dancers. As for the schoolgirls, thanks to the camouflage of these masks, they could unreservedly cheer on the boyish girls they admired. In the end, even adult men and women—to conceal their slight embarrassment at attending review performances—joined in, and the number of those utilizing masks kept increasing steadily.

Now, the “Review Mask” was the darling of the era. Sales offices were set up at theater entrances, and spectators had to purchase those ten-sen celluloid masks along with their tickets.

The Grand Theater’s audience seats—both upper and lower tiers—were filled by a crowd of masks wearing completely identical expressions. The thousands of uniform visages in the spectator seats were an even more splendid spectacle than any magnificent stage.

Moreover, the expressions of the “Review Mask” were crafted with remarkable skill. It was a simple pressed mask—a masculinized version of a traditional Otafuku face from Kagura performances, its mouth stretched wide into a sneering grin. Yet this mirthful expression felt so utterly absurd that when mask-wearers faced one another, they could not help chuckling beneath their identical visages—so lifelike was its manufactured hilarity.

The extent to which the popularity of the Review Mask enlivened the theater's atmosphere was truly extraordinary. The stage dancers never ceased to smile. As if in response, thousands of spectators grinned with perfectly identical smiles. Both the stage and the spectator seats became as bright as another world. Drawn by rumors of the masks, even people who disliked revues came flocking in droves to see them. Every theater was packed to capacity as long as it was called a revue. In other words, the "Review Mask" now even became a mascot for theater operators.

No, it wasn’t just that. The “Review Masks” within theaters soon gradually began spilling out into the streets. More than half of the people strolling through Ginza at night began taking on the same smiling expression. Both trains and subways were filled with men and women wearing identical expressions. To put it hyperbolically, all of Tokyo began grinning with the same celluloid faces.

When such a trend reached a certain level, it was inevitable that ills would arise on one side. That lazy individuals had begun hiding behind masks to play various pranks was plausible enough, but what proved even more troublesome was the realization that these masks were serving as brazen disguises for villains. Masked shoplifting, masked burglary, and even the term “masked robbery” began appearing in the social pages of newspapers.

The incident from the previous chapter—where Egawa Ranko shared a car and even exchanged handshakes with a complete stranger—was precisely the kind of event that could only occur amidst such a mask trend.

“It’s because these ridiculous masks have become popular that people come up with such pranks.” “You’ve really got to be more careful.” “If he were a villain, he wouldn’t stop at just a handshake.” “From now on, make damn sure it’s me before you get in the car.” Kamiya harbored a faint suspicion that this might be Beast-Man Onda’s doing and thus subtly—perhaps excessively—issued his warnings.

Though Egawa Ranko had been thoroughly terrified and sufficiently cautious afterward, she never could have imagined that a monster like the Human Leopard might exist in this world—and with the opponent’s deceptions being exceedingly cunning, one night she ended up boarding another imposter’s car. “Ranko, tonight before going home—let’s make a little detour.”

The masked man, whom Ranko had believed to be Kamiya, spoke in a voice like he had a cold within the dimly lit car. “Yes, but where are we stopping?” “Yeah, it’s just ahead. There’s something I want to surprise you with. Of course—it’s a happy surprise.” “Is that… so? Teasing me, are you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am teasing you.” “Heh heh heh, you’ll be shocked for sure.”

Ranko finally noticed that the man’s voice was different from usual.

“Oh, you’ve caught a cold.” “Your voice sounds different.” “Yeah, it’s the spring wind.” “The weather’s been so nice that I caught a cold.” “Who are you?... You are Mr. Kamiya... aren’t you?” “Ha ha ha ha, what a strange thing you’re saying.” “Of course it’s me!” “Or was there someone else coming to pick you up?” “Won’t you take off that mask?” “It’s creepy, you grinning like that.”

“Hmm, you want me to take this off? I can take it off. But wait a moment. There’s something I need to show you. Here, I’ll give this to you.”

As he spoke, the man took a small pouch from his pocket, opened the lid with a snap, and presented it to Ranko. Even in the dim bulb’s light, it glittered—a one-carat diamond ring sparkling with multicolored brilliance. “Oh, how beautiful! Are you giving this to me?” “Are you giving this to me?” The review girl, unaccustomed to luxury, became utterly excited by this expensive gift that must have cost tens of thousands of yen. “Yes—you’re going to accept it.” “In other words—it’s what they call an engagement ring.” “Will you accept it?”

“Yes, I’ll accept it. Thank you.” Overwhelmed by surging joy, she had completely forgotten about the mask. “Is this what you meant by surprising me?”

“No—this is merely the prelude.” “The real thing that’ll make you gasp is still yet to come.” “I’m keeping it carefully reserved until the very end.”

Amidst their conversation, the car had arrived at a stately-gated house in Hamacho, not far from the theater. The maid, evidently forewarned, showed the still-masked man—without suspicion—to a secluded six- and four-and-a-half-mat tatami room.

With a stylish lacquered round table at its center flanking them as they sat down soon came tea sweets and sake. Yet still he made no move to remove his mask. "This must be one of those geisha parlors." "How peculiar." "Don't I look absurd wearing modern clothes here?"

The bob-haired, Western-clad review girl and the small tatami room of a geisha house made for an utterly bizarre combination. “Yeah, that doesn’t matter,” he said. “Now, take out that ring from earlier. I’ll put it on for you.” “Yes.”

Ranko did as she was told and held out the pouch containing the ring, but suddenly noticing—

“Oh, you’re still wearing that mask. “It’s strange here in the tatami room. “Shall I take it off for you?” “Oh, never mind that. Give me your hand—let’s do the ring first.” The man’s dusky, hairy hand shot out, grabbed Ranko’s left hand, and tried to slip on the ring. When she caught sight of that hand, she startled and instinctively half-rose.

“Stop!” “Let go of me.” “Who are you?... You’re not Mr. Kamiya... Quickly—quickly—take off that mask and show me your face!” “Ha ha ha ha! No need to rush me so much—I’ll show you right now.” “You see? The man who got engaged to you—that’s me.”

With one hand, he maintained an iron grip on Ranko’s hand where the ring had already been placed, while with his other hand, he ripped off the Review Mask. Beneath it emerged a gaunt, dark face—unmistakably that of the Human Leopard, Onda—though this marked Ranko’s first encounter with him. “Ha ha ha ha! I’ve gone through such pains,” “ordering clothes identical to Mr. Kamiya’s, styling my hair in an all-back, modulating my voice—all of it.” “But now that you’ve accepted the engagement ring, I can finally breathe easy.” “You wouldn’t dare speak of returning it now, would you?”

Ranko still didn’t know how terrifying Onda was. She had merely sensed him as a vaguely repulsive man. “I... I made a mistake about who you were. I’m returning this. And now, I’m going home.” She removed the ring, placed it on the table, and abruptly stood up as if to leave. “No, no—that sliding door has a lock on it. I have the key. If you want the key, I might give it to you—but there’s a condition.”

“Well then, I’ll press the bell and call the maid here.”

“Call all you want—she won’t come.” “Even if you make a bit of noise—no one’s coming. It’s all been arranged.” Ranko contorted her pallid face, now on the verge of tears.

“Oh, never mind that. Sit down there.” When Onda drew close to her, wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and pressed down forcefully, Ranko crumpled limply onto the zabuton cushion.

Onda’s large eyes began to glow with an eerie phosphorescence as they gazed intently at the girl’s grimacing face. His mouth gaped wide open, panting hoarsely like a dog on a summer day in labored gasps. And from between his stark white, sharp teeth, that barbed, abnormally long tongue was seen writhing like some sinister creature.

At that moment, Ranko realized for the first time that this man was no ordinary human. He was a beast. A ferocious beast wearing human guise. She felt her strength had drained away from sheer terror, but the mere thought of becoming prey to such a beast was an unbearable humiliation. Even if she had to muster every last ounce of her strength, she had to escape this crisis. “You mustn’t. “I have to go home—no matter what.” “But I won’t let you go.”

The beast, mocking her in human speech, brought his grotesque face even closer to hers. “Hey, Ranko, I’m relentless, you know. Once I set my mind on something, no matter how much you run around or stay on guard, I won’t rest until I achieve my goal. Think carefully now. Don’t you value your life?” As he spoke, his hot cheek touched hers, and she felt his five spider-like fingers crawling over her back.

A chill ran through her; every fine hair on her body stood on end, and her blood seemed to reverse course. Ranko was now in a mindless frenzy. Letting out an unearthly scream, she summoned every shred of deranged strength and lunged at the sliding door the moment she rose to her feet. With a dreadful splintering crack, the sliding door tore open a gaping hole.

Ranko forced her way through the hole and tumbled out into the hallway. “Someone! Help me!” Hearing the scream, the maids rushed over.

The Vanishing Flower-Selling Girl In the end, beast-man Onda’s scheme ended in failure. He had gravely underestimated review performers. He had mistakenly believed a single diamond could purchase her chastity outright. Contrary to his expectations, Ranko’s resistance proved too fierce—when she kicked through the sliding door in her frenzy, even Onda grew flustered. He casually smoothed things over and let her return home unharmed. Any greater commotion risked police involvement, endangering Onda himself. But the next day, after hearing Ranko’s full account, young Kamiya had no choice but to report everything to the authorities. For Onda was a wanted murderer—a terror sought by the law.

Needless to say, the Hamacho meeting place was promptly investigated. However, it was discovered that the meeting place had no connection whatsoever with Onda. They didn’t even know Onda’s name, let alone his address.

After that, about five days passed without any particular incidents. Onda was likely holed up in his lair, its location unknown to anyone.

The police's exhaustive search ended in futility.

The resolute Ranko took to the stage without taking a single day off.

At the theater, out of concern for this popular actress’s safety, they decided to assign burly men as escorts to accompany her to and from work. Kamiya also left work early every day, stationed himself in Ranko’s dressing room, and maintained constant vigilance. And yet, what a cursed twist of fate it was. Kamiya and Onda’s preferences regarding the opposite sex aligned perfectly, as if their tally marks matched. If not, could there truly be such a thing as them both falling in love—first with Hiroko, now with Ranko—as if by some prearranged pact?

No—that might not be the case at all. That the Ondas were targeting Kamiya as their mortal enemy was beyond doubt. But in Ranko’s case now—was this truly mere coincidence? Was it not rather Onda’s calculated scheme to seize what Kamiya loved most, torment it before his eyes, and exult in secret while inflicting endless agony?

The more he pondered, the more Kamiya could not help but feel a heart-freezing terror at the Human Leopard’s unfathomable, bottomless obsession. Any moment now—any moment now—that monster would undoubtedly attempt another move. He must not take his eyes off Ranko. Even at the cost of his life, he had to protect his beloved. Unwilling though he was. He could not doubt the enemy’s attack.

And so it came to pass: on the sixth night after the Hamacho incident, the Human Leopard—employing a method wholly unforeseen by the guards, a stratagem beyond all expectation—once again set his plan into motion to abduct Egawa Ranko. At that moment, on the stage of the review theater during a scene from *The Flower-Selling Girls of Paris*—a garden ablaze with oleander blossoms—a troupe of flower-selling girls had appeared, singing and dancing all the while. Among over a dozen chorus girls, there was one conspicuously adorned in splendor—her voice, face, and gestures surpassing all others. This was none other than Egawa Ranko, playing the role of the flower-selling girl who served as the protagonist of this scene.

The audience seats in this so-called age of masks were packed beyond capacity with a massive crowd—every single face bore precisely the same smiling expression, as if stamped from an identical mold. From beneath those masks erupted a ferocious uproar—gruff voices, shrill voices, cheers of every variety—so overwhelming it drowned out the stage’s song, all converging upon Egawa Ranko alone. This was Ranko’s signature scene. She stepped gracefully away from the line of chorus girls, advanced to center stage, and began singing her trademark “Flower-Selling Girl’s Song,” gently swaying the flower basket in her hand as she sang.

It was at this very moment—as her sweet, sultry voice, the very source of her fame, intertwined inseparably with the orchestral accompaniment, now soaring high, now plunging low, at times crashing like raging waves and at others whispering like a gentle stream, its melodic intricacies enchanting thousands of spectators—that “The Flower-Selling Girl of Paris” abruptly, utterly abruptly vanished from the stage. Egawa Ranko had vanished like smoke.

The audience fell completely silent for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer strangeness of it all. They could not comprehend its meaning at all. If this had been a Tenkatsu stage performance, they would not have been so surprised—because it might have been the grand magic trick known as “The Vanishing Flower-Selling Girl.” But there could be no such plot in the revue’s script where the songstress would vanish as if erased before even finishing her song.

“This is no ordinary occurrence!”

A dreadful premonition of some kind flashed through the spectators' minds. But even more than the spectators, it was Egawa Ranko herself who was struck by shock manyfold greater. While engrossed in singing, she suddenly felt a sensation as though the floor beneath her feet had vanished. Reeling dizzily, she collapsed sideways. When she came to her senses, both the stage and audience seats around her had disappeared, leaving her in a damp, dimly lit space like an underground cellar.

Ah, I see. In some mishap, the rising platform’s plank had fallen, sending her down into the pit. This was the pit beneath the stage. No—that couldn’t be right. For a rising platform’s plank to fall was unthinkable. Someone must have tampered with it. He had rigged the platform beforehand to detach, waited for her to step onto it unsuspectingly, then reversed the winch to lower it like an elevator—abruptly making her body vanish from the stage.

So, who on earth would do such a pointless prank? Ranko instantly realized what was happening. Still collapsed on the square plank now suspended in midair, she abruptly raised her face to peer through the gloom of the stage pit—where, just as she feared, three human figures writhed. When the rising platform’s plank had fully descended, one of them approached her like a ghost. Ah—it was him. Two phosphorescent lights glowed in the darkness. Beast-like breathing. Onda. The Human Leopard. With stringent security measures blocking all opportunities to approach Ranko directly, he had devised this outlandish abduction method. And judging by the white object—like a rolled handkerchief—clutched in his right hand, he must have planned to anesthetize her and carry her unconscious body out of the pit.

Since it was a revue performance that didn’t even require a revolving stage, not a single staff member was in sight within the pit at that time.

Unaware that such a tragedy was unfolding beneath the stage, the audience remained utterly still and silent. They held their breath with sweaty palms gripped tight, waiting in hushed anticipation for what horror might come next. Then came a scream like ripping silk—resounding through the hall from nowhere before thinning into a threadlike whisper. Something terrible was happening to Ranko. The entire audience rose as one—upper balcony and lower seats alike. A commotion swelled like foaming waves. Yet what a grotesque sight unfolded. In this terror-filled moment, thousands of standing spectators—their hearts pounding—wore perfectly identical smiling faces. The cheerful grins of celluloid “Review Masks.” Countless laughing visages seemed to mock Egawa Ranko’s dreadful fate in unified glee, as though her suffering were some exquisite joke.

Theater of Darkness

That night, the audience at Daito Theater witnessed a spectacle more splendid, frenzied, and dynamic than any grand revue that had ever sent them into raptures—an unprecedented grand drama that had them gripping their seats with bated breath and pounding hearts as they watched with storm-like fervor. The leads of this grand drama were the Human Leopard and Egawa Ranko; the supporting roles were her lover, young Kamiya; and filling out the chorus were stern-faced policemen in uniform.

The Grand Revue of Blood’s overture was a bizarre scene where Egawa Ranko, playing the flower-selling girl, vanished abruptly from the stage in the midst of her solo as the rising platform descended.

They heard Ranko’s blood-curdling scream echoing from deep underground. The stage scene, awash with blooming oleanders, fell utterly silent for a time—like a film projector grinding to a halt. Over a dozen chorus girls remained lined up in front of the backdrop, as motionless as dolls. The orchestra fell silent. Only the gaping hole of the descending platform at the center of the stage stood out ominously, like the maw of a demon.

And so, while the audience seats and stage were enveloped in an eerie silence, beneath the stage in the pit, a wild beast was dashing through the dark subterranean world like a madman, clutching the beautiful actress rendered unconscious by anesthesia under his arm.

The pit had several exits, but the one Onda aimed for was a passageway leading to the vacant lot behind the theater. He had bribed a stagehand and obtained the key to that door. In the darkness outside, his subordinate’s automobile must be lying in wait.

He dragged Ranko’s legs along the concrete floor as he ran frantically until he reached the door. Then, he put his hand on the door and had barely opened it an inch or two when he jerked back in surprise and shut it again. Oh no— What on earth had happened? Outside that usually deserted door was a seething crowd—no, a veritable mountain of people! Uniformed police officers were among them. When Onda opened the door a crack, there was a startling police officer’s back right in front of him, and that officer even turned around suspiciously at the sound of the door. It was later discovered that, at that very moment, a drunken brawl had broken out outside the door, and one of the men had collapsed bleeding.

Onda started running back the way he had come. And when he reached the front of the motor room, there stood the stagehand he had bribed beneath the faint electric light there.

“What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

The man, seeing Onda’s frenzied state, asked in alarm. “It’s no good. Can’t get out that way.” The monster gasped. “Oh no! Listen—those footsteps! People are coming! Not just one or two! We’ve got to get out—now!” “But where? Where can we run?!” “No use. No escape routes. Everywhere but that back door’s swarming with people.” “Then listen—go to the switchboard room upstairs! Turn off all the lights! Plunge this place into darkness! I’ll slip into the audience seats while you do it. Triple your payment—just do it!”

It was the last resort.

“Very well—I accept.” “Hurry—escape through here.” “This leads backstage.”

The man said dismissively and dashed off ahead. Onda, clutching his lover with tenacious persistence, pursued him. On stage, the chorus girls dressed as flower sellers huddled together in one spot and trembled with fear. The audience remained on their feet, restlessly buzzing with unease.

“The curtain! The curtain!” A faint shouting voice could be heard from somewhere. But for some reason, the stage curtain simply would not come down.

Then, suddenly, the stage was plunged into darkness. Before anyone could finish thinking, “Ah—they cut the lights instead of lowering the curtain,” they snapped back on with a flare. And then this time, every last light in the auditorium went out all at once. From backstage came several incomprehensible shouts that tangled together and reverberated through the air. Instantly, the audience seats became bright as daylight. Every light that had been turned off for stage effects now burned at full intensity.

And then, in the next instant, all the lights in the building began flickering ominously like lightning. In sync with the anxious heartbeats of the spectators, a frantic alternation of light and dark began. A terrible disturbance erupted in the audience seats that had fallen silent. Shouts of abuse directed at the theater staff swelled like a chorus. Men's bellows, women's shrieks, children's wails.

When the lights flashed on, thousands of people were laughing with exactly the same grinning faces. Beneath those smiles, anger, curses, weeping, shouts—a myriad of passions gushed forth.

Before long, no sooner had the ghostly flickering of the lights abruptly ceased than a prolonged darkness descended. The entire massive theater—from the stage to the audience seats to the corridors—had been engulfed in deathly darkness. The audience’s roars grew even fiercer.

The timid people who could no longer bear their anxiety—female guests and others—surged through the darkness toward the exit gates like a tsunami. People trampled underfoot screamed; those knocked down wailed; chairs crashed to the floor; objects tore apart with a rending sound. But after a short while, in the midst of that tumult, the auditorium once again became as bright as day. And the meaningless flickering did not recur.

Suddenly, under the blinding electric glare illuminating the stage, a grotesque figure stood revealed.

Disheveled hair, a livid black face with two unnaturally gleaming eyes, fang-like white teeth peeking through bright red lips, and a creased black suit. “That’s him! He’s the culprit! The one who abducted Ranko—it’s that man!” Suddenly, an ear-splitting scream erupted from within the audience seats. A young man, still wearing that mask, ran like the wind down an aisle toward the stage. Even as he ran, he kept shouting.

“Everyone! This man is the infamous Human Leopard—the arch-fiend who slaughtered the waitress!”

That was Kamiya Yoshio—the young man who had been watching over his lover Egawa Ranko from among the spectators. First Hiroko, and now this new lover; driven half-mad by the beast’s attempt to steal them both away.

A petal storm. Onda, having been delayed by some complication, failed to slip from the stage into the audience seats during the darkness and instead found himself frozen in place under the unexpectedly swift illumination. He had no choice but to shamelessly expose his grotesque beast-like form before the eyes of the crowd. Moreover, right before his eyes was a masked figure pointing at him, exposing his true identity, and denouncing his past evils while charging closer.

The Human Leopard panicked miserably like a trapped beast, darting back and forth across the stage. He couldn't retreat. He couldn't advance. Backstage, a young staff member stood blocking the way. Before him loomed a mountain of spectators. With sideways escape cut off, only vertical flight remained. At last revealing his leopard nature, he began clawing up the rear of the proscenium arch pillar with ferocious intensity.

It was no human feat. There were no footholds whatsoever on the plaster-coated cylindrical pillar. With the speed of a cat, he vanished into the ceiling in the blink of an eye. Above the stage, hidden behind the single horizontal curtain, spiderweb-like mechanisms of every sort were arrayed. Thick bamboo poles of the light blue curtain, shelves with attached light bulbs for illumination, water pipes for real rain, baskets for scattering paper snow.

The Human Leopard managed to escape all the way to the ceiling at the center of the stage by traversing those shelves and bamboo poles. He crouched on the lighting shelf there, his visage identical to that of a monster cat from old plays—sharpening his claws, baring his fangs, his phosphorescent eyes blazing fiercely—as he gauged the momentum of the crowd swarming far below.

“Someone, catch him! He’s already killed Ranko! He’s a murderer!” Kamiya leaped onto the stage and cried out in an anguished voice. Two police officers stationed in the auditorium rushed over, but even they weren’t exactly skilled at climbing trees. “Hey! Isn’t there anyone here who can climb up there?”

From among the stagehands, a young man who looked strong-armed and agile leaped out. “I’ll go! Ain’t no trouble climbin’ up from that ladder over there—I’ll drag that bastard down!”

He pushed through the crowd and rushed toward the ladder. He was well-practiced after all. With swiftness rivaling even the Human Leopard’s, he scaled the vertical ladder and nimbly traversed the narrow ceiling shelves, rapidly closing in on Onda. From the audience seats, the single horizontal curtain blocked their view of this spectacular action drama, but seeing that curtain flapping violently like a storm, they could vividly imagine the ferocity of the struggle unfolding beyond it.

Whenever the basket of snow paper swayed in the ceiling, an untimely five-colored snow swirled down in dense flurries across the stage. Upon the rows of artificial oleanders, upon the frantically scrambling flower girls, upon the spectators’ masks crowding the stage, upon the police officers’ hats and epaulets—a beautiful five-colored snow fell in thick flurries. But it wasn’t only snow. The wide gold and silver tapes prepared for the revue’s final scene glittered as they unraveled—one, two, three—dangling down from the ceiling. In the blink of an eye, with the ferocity of a driving rain, dozens upon hundreds of golden and silver bands fiercely rained down toward the stage.

The backdrop, the people scrambling chaotically across the stage—all seemed engulfed by a rain of gold and silver and a blizzard of five-colored snow. Above them, upon the dazzlingly brilliant stage ceiling, a great struggle scattering blossoms raged on endlessly to the accompaniment of a wild beast’s roars.

On the stage, the falling snow paper had piled into a towering mound. When they suddenly noticed, there on the snow, something was dripping plip-plop like raindrops. It was a crimson rain. Each time it dripped, the snow paper rapidly soaked into the color of blood. “Ah! He’s done for! Blood! Blood!” “Blood! Blood!”

The crowd cried out in horror.

Above, the leopard’s claws were injuring the brave young stagehand. The gush of blood spurting from the wound became a crimson rain, staining the paper snow. The young man was now fighting for his life. If he remained still like this, he would only be strangled to death. If he was fated to die anyway, he resolved to take this monster down with him through a do-or-die gamble. While being strangled until his breath was nearly gone, he clung desperately to his opponent’s body and—in the same motion—jerked both legs that had been braced against the shelf suddenly into the air.

Even the monster had no power to resist this desperate surprise attack. An indescribably anguished roar echoed through the ceiling, and the two entangled bodies spun wildly through the flurry of paper snow before plummeting down onto the stage. But the beast was innately agile. No sooner had they crashed down with a thunderous noise than he was already on his feet before the gasping crowd. When one looked, his ugly face was now concealed behind that familiar laughing mask—when had he put it on?

Meanwhile, the valiant young man, unfortunately unable to match the beast’s agility, became pinned beneath his opponent and lay sprawled without even moving. The paper snow rapidly buried the gruesomely blood-soaked chest area of his corpse-like body. “Don’t let him get away!” The people on the stage charged forward as one toward Onda, who had risen to his feet. Indescribable chaos—a mountain of people piled tenfold upon one who had fallen, the majority still wearing those celluloid masks. A soccer-like melee of laughing masks.

“We’ve got him!” “It’s him!” “It’s him!” “Officers! Tie him up!”

At the shout, the mountain of people collapsed. When they looked, there lay two masked men tangled in five-colored snow paper—one pinning down the other. The one doing the pinning was Kamiya Yoshio. The one being pinned must be the Human Leopard. But what a pitiful figure he made for that fearsome beast! Could even he have exhausted himself through their prolonged struggle, letting this feeble youth Kamiya gain the upper hand? “The mask! Please remove the mask quickly!”

Kamiya, with both hands occupied, called out to someone nearby. “Alright, I’ll get it off!”

A young man lunged at the face of the man struggling beneath him and tore off the laughing mask. “Ah—!”

A cry of shock erupted instantly.

“It’s a case of mistaken identity. This isn’t Onda!” The young man Kamiya Yoshio leapt to his feet and frantically scanned his surroundings.

Excluding the stagehands and chorus girls, every single person there was one of the masked crowd. Those masks, against their wearers’ wills, grinned mockingly as though ridiculing Kamiya’s failure. “Everyone, please remove your masks. The culprit is hiding among you all. Quickly, please remove your masks!” At Kamiya’s shout, the people hurriedly brought their hands to their faces. Once the masks were off, it would be all over. There was no doubt that the Human Leopard was hiding among the crowd on this stage.

But, ah—at that very moment when they were on the verge of discovering and capturing the fiend in an instant, the entire venue was plunged once more into utter darkness. Onda’s ally, who had been lurking in the power room, saved him at the critical moment.

The Eerie Backstage “Everyone, please remove your masks.” “The culprit may have slipped into the audience seats.”

The theater staff member shouted at the top of his voice. The uniform, cookie-cutter smiling faces of thousands of spectators vanished in an instant. And from beneath the removed masks were laid bare the raw faces of old and young, men and women—of every beauty and ugliness.

The people cast suspicious glances at each other’s neighbors. Could that man with the prim and proper face perhaps be the Human Leopard? The guy grinning over here also seemed suspicious somehow. Everyone felt as though a terrifying murderer lurked right beside them. A deathly silence occupied the entire theater. The people were filled with the urge to scream at the top of their lungs and flee, yet they lacked even the strength to run away, standing rigidly in place without moving a muscle. And thousands of eyes—only eyes—trembling with extreme terror, were scrutinizing each other intently.

But in neither the audience seats, nor the stage, nor backstage could they find any trace of Onda’s distinctive face. Before long, over a dozen police officers who had rushed from the nearby Metropolitan Police Department—with the cooperation of theater staff—searched everywhere from the dressing rooms to backstage, from the ceiling to every corner of the underground stage, yet ultimately failed to discover any trace of the beast-man. It wasn’t just Onda. As for the victim, Egawa Ranko—no one could tell when or from where she had been taken away—not even a shadow of her remained.

The revue had no choice but to be canceled halfway through its opening. The packed spectators, subjected to unpleasant identity checks by police officers lined up at every exit, left disgruntled and grumbling. Once not a single spectator remained, another meticulous search was conducted, but once again nothing was gained. They couldn’t even determine which exit he had fled through. After more than an hour of futile effort, the police officers withdrew for the time being. The review girls and theater staff were also permitted to return home. All that remained in the building, now as desolate as a graveyard, were seven uneasy night watchmen left behind.

Because such things had occurred, seven carefully selected individuals—roofers and stagehands who prided themselves on their strength—were assigned to keep watch through the night.

They gathered into a cluster in a tatami-matted room near the stage door entrance, sipping chilled sake straight from the flask while making idle talk. "I can't help but feel like that guy's still holed up in some corner of this here building." “Cut it out.” “No spooking each other, alright?” “We didn’t search that thoroughly—he can’t still be hiding here now.” “Hey, you.”

Then, the third man tilted his head quizzically,

“Hmm, but I can’t say for sure. After all, the backstage and underground stage of a theater are like a garbage dump, you know. If you want to hide, a single person can hide anywhere here.”

Yet another man among them,

“If he’s hiding somewhere, it’s gotta be in the underground stage.” “Look—that time when we all thought we had him pinned down, he’d already vanished somewhere.” “Isn’t that weird?” “No matter how quick he is, there’s no way he could’ve escaped that fast.” “He must’ve jumped into that trapdoor back then.” “Yakko-san, you don’t think he’s squirming around under the floor here right about now, do ya?” The debate showed no signs of reaching a conclusion, but the more they talked, the more the seven men became convinced that the Human Leopard was still lurking somewhere within the theater.

An empty theater was more eerily desolate than any other building. The mere thought of thousands of chairs in the audience seats without a single human soul occupying them was enough to send an eerie shiver down one’s spine. Especially at midnight, after such a bizarre incident—when they realized only seven living beings remained within this deathly silent colossus of a structure—even these burly men who prided themselves on their strength could not feel at ease.

“That being said—if he’s still in the building, what about Ranko?” “Of course she’d be with him, wouldn’t she?” “Is she alive?”

No one answered. The people fell silent as if startled, only exchanging anxious glances. That’s right—there was no way to say for certain that the beast hadn’t killed that beautiful actress. There was no telling whether Ranko’s blood-soaked corpse wasn’t lying somewhere in that surrounding darkness. “Ahh—no, no! I can’t take this!” “Hey, everyone, let’s cut this kinda talk out already!”

Someone spoke up in an unusually loud voice. “Shh… Be quiet for a moment.” Then, one of them who had been in the corner—his eyes wide with terror suddenly gleaming—silenced the group.

“What’s that… Hey… Can’t you hear it… that sound?” As they instinctively strained their ears, a faint, faint noise—like a woman’s scream—reached them from somewhere far away. “Hey—that voice… Isn’t that Ranko?”

“Yeah, seems like it.” “Where could it be?” The impatient young men were already on their feet. “It’s coming from the underground stage.” “No—maybe backstage.” “Hey everyone, let’s check it out!”

The men thundered out into the corridor, too hurried to properly slip into their sandals as they raced to be first. The majority descended to the underground stage, but two went around to backstage. They were a young stagehand and his friend from the scaffolding crew. They hadn’t been afraid of the underground stage’s darkness at all. They were convinced the earlier scream had come from backstage. The stage—cleared of its props—spread out as empty as an open field. Several bare bulbs dangled from the high ceiling. Unlike performance lighting, this dim glow felt unreliable—like park lamplight after midnight.

The large double circle of the revolving stage lay fully exposed. On both sides of these prop storage areas, leaving only a few narrow passageways, painted backdrops, various props, thatch mats, and the like were haphazardly crammed. The two men stood in the center of the revolving stage, hesitating for a moment as they wondered where to search, when once again, a strange scream reached their ears.

A shrill voice—something like “Awa-wa-wa-wa”—muffled as though smothered by something echoed hollowly through the stage’s vast emptiness. “Hey, I told you it’s here!” “Yeah, it seems to have come from over there.” The two men stole forward and entered the narrow passage of what appeared to be the prop storage area. Searching through the thatch mats and moving aside the painted backdrops while keeping a vigilant eye out, they circled all the way around, but there was no sign of anyone in any corner.

“This is just too damn weird.” “It definitely came from around here, but…” “Shh. Be quiet.” “We can’t let them hear us.” “Let’s wait here awhile, ain’t we?” The two men exchanged whispers while squatting in the narrow, dimly lit passage. Directly in front of where they crouched, three thatch mats stood propped up, and beyond them loomed a large papier-mâché seated statue of Buddha—used as a prop for a Japanese dance—vaguely visible like a giant monk.

“Huh? Just now—ain’t that a rustling sound?”

“It’s probably a rat.”

“Ain’t no rat.” “This area stinks, I tell ya.”

Suddenly, they held their breath and exchanged glances. From right beside them came a strange guttural groan—"Uun"—followed by the pattering sound of something being kicked. “Hey! Look—there’s something fishy in there!” “Yeah. You ready?” “Get ’im!” Their eyes exchanged that meaning. And once their breaths synchronized, they lunged with terrifying force at the papier-mâché Buddha statue the moment they stood up.

The lightweight papier-mâché Buddha statue toppled sideways with a single push. At the same time, what had been concealed within the Buddha’s hollow body was exposed before their eyes. A pitch-black figure rose fluidly, fixing them with a glare yet making no attempt to flee. Around the man’s face lingered two round shapes glowing faintly from within like phosphorus—utterly motionless. Leopard’s eyes. There could be no doubt: Onda had been hiding there. At Onda’s feet lay the flower girl collapsed with her skin bared. This was unmistakably Egawa Ranko. The beast must have lurked inside this Buddha statue all along from the very start—just himself and his exquisite prey.

The stagehand and the construction worker stood frozen, unnerved by their opponent's composure and unable to make a move. A prolonged silence of mutual glaring continued. “Are you two alone?”

A strangely gloomy voice echoed. The Human Leopard spoke.

“What?!” The construction worker blustered, responding in an equally low voice. “Do you not know my strength?” In the dimness, fang-like white teeth appeared to float into view. Two phosphorescent glows blazed up fiercely, as if doused with oil. The monster, clawing at empty air with both hands, crept steadily forward. “Damn it, let’s take him down!” The construction worker shouted recklessly as he grappled with the black shadow. Not to be outdone, the stagehand seized an opening and tangled himself around the monster’s legs.

“Hey! Come quick! We’ve got the culprit!”

While grappling with him, the two men shouted in unison, calling for backup from the others in the underground area. Tiger It was a struggle between human and beast. An eerie roar and meaningless screams mingled as three bodies tangled in a whirl, tumbling across the floorboards. Though it was two against one, humans were no match for the beast. Before they knew it, Onda’s sharp claws had seized the young men’s necks. “Where? Where?” “Ah! There! They’re grappling over there!” “They’re grappling over there!”

A thunderous stampede of footsteps drew near. The young men who had been working in the underground stage area rushed over upon hearing the earlier shouts. Even a beast of any ferocity wouldn’t have had the strength to fight seven young men at once. Recognizing his peril, Onda shook off the two men grappling him, leapt back abruptly, then fled into the prop storage. Scrambling up the surface of the stage flats propped there with a crackling sound, he vanished into the ceiling’s darkness in an instant.

“He’s escaped! Guard the exits!”

“Someone call the police!” One man ran toward the telephone room; the others brought out a ladder and climbed to the top of the flats stacked several layers high—but wherever he had hidden himself, not a shadow remained there now. Once again, the search behind the scenes began. People rushed about among the props; others climbed the upright iron ladder to survey the area below from the ceiling. The bizarre leopard hunt showed no sign of ending.

“Hey, everyone’s gone somewhere, ain’t they?”

The original construction worker and young stagehand were left behind at their previous spot. “Yeah, with this tiny crew, there’s no way we’re searchin’ this whole damn place.” “Let’s bail.” “Leave the rest to the cops.” “Right. Let’s haul Ranko to the other room then.” “Poor kid—still out cold on the floorboards.” “Yeah, solid plan.” They wove through gaps between stage flats, hoisted Ranko’s limp body between them, and tried carrying her out of the prop storage.

“Hmm, there’s something strange lying here. Who the hell brought this thing to such a place?”

The young stagehand discovered a large tiger costume lying flattened beneath the coarse tatami matting at his feet and muttered. “This here’s the one they wear in the first act, right? It’s called a stuffed animal costume, ain’t it?” “Ain’t this thing usually dumped around here?”

The construction worker answered. “No, that’s not it. This is supposed to be stored in the costume room, you know. It’s strange for it to be here.”

“With all the commotion tonight, couldn’t someone have carelessly brought it out?” “Yeah, that might be it.”

The two men absentmindedly passed through the area and shuffled awkwardly down the dark corridor leading to the dressing room entrance.

Then, a truly bizarre occurrence took place. No sooner had the thick tatami rustled than the tiger costume that had been flattened beneath it began to stir ominously. An inanimate costume couldn’t possibly move on its own. If it moved, there had to be a human inside. The area was terribly dimly lit, and since it had been beneath thick tatami matting, it never occurred to the two men that there could be anything inside the stuffed tiger costume—yet there was undoubtedly something within it.

Before long, the stuffed tiger costume rose heavily to its feet and began shuffling after the two men as they walked away. A luxurious stuffed animal costume made with real fur. The sight of it crawling on all fours as it walked down the dimly lit corridor looked exactly like a living tiger. While the two men entered the Japanese-style room, tidied up the area, and prepared Ranko’s bedding, the tiger stealthily passed by the front of the room and slumped down behind the row of actors’ geta boxes. At a glance, it looked like nothing more than a stuffed animal.

Before long, outside the large door of the dressing room entrance, there arose the sound of many footsteps accompanied by voices, and they began knocking on the door. Hearing this commotion, the young stagehand rushed out from his room. “Who’s there? Could you be from the police, sir…?”

When he called out loudly, a response came from outside saying they were from the Metropolitan Police Department. The young man unlatched the bolt and opened the large door with a clatter.

“He’s been found, I hear. Where is he? Take us there at once.” Over ten police officers swarmed in and urgently questioned the young man.

“Well, please come this way.”

The young man took the lead and guided them to the room where Ranko was sleeping. The police officers noisily followed after them.

“Hey, there’s a tiger here!” “Pretty dangerous, isn’t it?”

One of the officers keenly spotted the stuffed animal lying stretched out in the corner by the geta boxes and cracked a joke.

“Well, well—fallen down here again.” “Strange... Ah well, this here’s just a stage costume.” “Won’t bite ya.” The young man quipped back.

But before those words had even finished, the tiger—which they had assumed was nothing more than a fake costume—suddenly rose up on all fours. “Aah—!” Even the police officers couldn’t help but let out cries of surprise. They huddled into a single mass in the corner of the corridor and froze in place. “Ha ha ha ha! Serves you right!” A mocking laugh came from somewhere.

And then, the fierce tiger sprang up and dashed out like a gust of wind through the still-open dressing room entrance. “That’s him! That guy stole the stuffed costume and came up with this insane disguise! Please hurry and chase after him! That guy’s the culprit!”

The stagehand shouted. The police officers, as if on cue, swarmed to the doorway. Outside, icy moonlight flooded the scene. Along the smooth asphalt road bathed in that moonlight, a fierce tiger ran as though it were some bizarre phantom.

The police officers raised a battle cry and gave chase. But the tiger’s fleeing speed was terrifyingly fast. The distance between pursuer and pursued rapidly widened. And twisting through the moonlit town’s many turns, before they knew it, the pursuers lost sight of the beast. “Hey, that might actually be a real tiger after all. Can a human crawling on all fours really run that fast?”

The police officers stood frozen in the moonlight in a daze, as if they had witnessed some bizarre dream.

Demon’s Footprints

That night, after all the spectators had left Dai-Tokyo Theater, Kamiya Yoshio remained behind until the police concluded their search, waiting with bated breath for the outcome. But upon learning that not only the Human Leopard Onda but even Egawa Ranko had vanished without a trace, he slumped in disappointment and staggered out of the theater like a sleepwalker.

Blinded by disappointment, unaware of where or how he had walked, yet somehow reaching his home unharmed, he neither spoke to the maid who greeted him nor acknowledged his family members. Staggering into the sitting room of the detached wing, he tumbled into the bedding laid out there. Oh, what a nightmare. The demon had once again snatched away his lover. Before long, Ranko too would meet the same fate as Hiroko had. No—perhaps she was no longer alive.

A horrifying phantom—its hands and legs torn asunder, drenched in blood—appears vividly behind his eyelids.

“What the hell am I supposed to do? Damn it! What the hell am I supposed to do?!” Biting his lips until they bled, he writhed in helpless fury. “When it comes to him, even the police can’t do a thing. What the hell can I do about that? He isn’t human—he’s a beast. That beast is my romantic rival. Tch… So I was fighting a beast over a woman.”

He tossed and turned restlessly under the futon, sinking endlessly into futile brooding.

Eventually, exhausted from fatigue, he began to nod off—only to find a terrifying nightmare waiting for him there. Before his eyes, Ranko’s white flesh and the bony body of the Human Leopard danced wildly in every conceivable posture. And, in the end, the dream world was filled with the vivid color of fresh blood. He saw a crimson dream. He saw a crimson dream of murder.

Clack-clack, clack-clack—a strange, persistent noise suddenly roused him from sleep. Is it the wind? No, it’s not the wind. Someone was knocking on the storm shutters from the garden. “Who’s there?!”

Even when he shouted, there was no answer, and the noise continued.

Kamiya, still in his nightclothes, jumped up and quickly tried opening the window’s shoji and storm shutters. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined the presence of such a creature. He opened the window to check whether something was hanging from the eaves and knocking against the storm shutters. But when he knocked on the storm shutters and lightly peeked outside, he was so startled that he involuntarily leaped back onto the futon. There, backlit by the pouring moonlight, the figure of an unimaginably terrifying creature was staring fixedly in this direction.

The fur outlining the creature’s silhouette glittered silver under the moonlight. Its entire body was covered in fur. A creature that should have been crawling on all fours had its front legs suspended in midair, just like a dog sitting up to beg, and stood bolt upright. It was a large tiger. Kamiya, faced with such an utterly unexpected animal’s appearance, found himself more dumbfounded than afraid. I once heard about a tiger that had escaped from its zoo cage. Had that extremely rare incident occurred now? And could it be that the beast which had wandered from town to town had now, by chance, come to his window?

But strangely, this tiger mastered the technique of knocking on the storm shutters just like a human. And why was it standing on its hind legs? “Hahahaha! Did I startle you?”

Suddenly, the tiger spoke.

When Kamiya heard this, he was utterly flabbergasted to his core. Even if this were a dream, what a bizarre one it would be. “Kamiya-kun, have you forgotten this voice? You couldn’t have forgotten, could you? Try to recall—about a year ago at Café Aphrodite. It’s the voice you first heard.”

The tiger continued speaking in a sinister voice. He understood now—this was Onda, the Human Leopard. Still, when had he taken on the form of a ferocious tiger? Could it be that until now, the tiger had been disguised as a human?

“Aren’t you going to say anything? “Is it that you’re afraid to utter my name? “Then I’ll announce myself. “I am Onda! “The Onda who tried to steal your lover!”

Hearing this far, Kamiya was able to understand everything. This guy was wearing a tiger costume used in plays. He must have used that disguise to evade the search efforts and sneaked out of the theater.

“Y-you bastard—where did you hide Ranko?”

Kamiya mustered every ounce of his strength and declared. “I didn’t hide her.” “Ranko’s already properly back at her home.” “A whole bunch of guards are with her.” “Seems you haven’t heard about what happened afterward.” “I messed up.” “They finally found my hideout.” “Ranko got taken back from me.” “Hahahaha.” “But it’s nothing.” “Just a little setback.”

“Is that true?” “It’s true.” “Precisely because it’s true, I came here to give you a warning.” “Oh, I’ll be leaving soon, so there’s no need to worry.” “It’d be easy for me to grab and kill you right here, but…” “Then that would feel like too much of a waste.” “I don’t intend to let you live forever either, but that’ll come after I’ve made you suffer much, much more. Hahahaha!” The tiger shook the fur on its neck in the moonlight and let out a scornful guffaw. Kamiya, on the contrary, was so on edge worrying whether the family in the main house might hear.

“But rather than that, shouldn’t you be a bit more cautious yourself? For instance, if I were to shout for help right now, wouldn’t you be the one in danger?”

Kamiya was growing bolder by the moment. “Ohoho! You think you can shout for help?” “You couldn’t possibly do that.” “Because you value your family’s lives.” “If anyone comes out here, I’ll kill them without mercy!” “What the hell do you want with me?” “Ah, yes yes—I’d completely forgotten.” “It’s about Ranko.” “I won’t give up on that woman just because I failed once.” “I came to tell you I won’t give up.” “You’ll take every defensive measure anyway.” “And the more frantically you act, the more it plays into my hands.” “In other words—I want to snatch away the lover you’re desperately protecting and make you suffer to my heart’s content.” “Hahahaha! Well then, guard yourself well.”

When he finished speaking, he suddenly dropped to all fours and lumbered across the garden through the moonlight, moving with a gait indistinguishable from that of a real tiger. And then, with a sudden leap, he cleared the wall and vanished from sight, his terrifying form disappearing. All that remained were the vivid footprints of a ferocious beast imprinted on the soft soil.

Drenched in greasy sweat from head to toe, Kamiya watched that terrifying creature depart. Though he knew it was futile by now, he nevertheless called the police and reported the incident.

That night, without sleeping a wink, he waited for dawn and went off to Egawa Ranko’s home. Ranko was safe. Though she was bedridden, it was only because she had developed a fever from the previous night’s turmoil. Kamiya gazed at the narrow garden beyond the veranda while doing what he could to comfort her. As he stared, his eyes began widening until they seemed ready to bulge from their sockets. He had discovered something horrifying there. On the garden soil—in three distinct spots—large beast footprints were clearly imprinted, identical to those left in his own garden.

Breath in the Attic

In the six-tatami-mat room facing the courtyard, Ranko, Ranko’s mother, and Kamiya exchanged frightened glances at the suspicious footprints. “Mr. Kamiya, please don’t go.” “I can’t stand being alone with just Mother—it’s too terrifying.” Pale as an invalid from last night’s ordeal, Ranko had shrunk back like a mouse bewitched by a cat, her eyes darting nervously about as she pleaded.

“Of course. I’ll take a break from the company for a while and act as your guard.” “That’s fine, but something feels strange.” “Did he really come all this way just to leave without doing anything?” “Mrs. Egawa, was there anything unusual last night?”

When Kamiya asked, Ranko’s mother answered in a hushed voice, trembling as though sharing a secret. “I didn’t notice anything at all.” “But ever since then, two detectives had been stationed in this room the entire time.” “And they said there’d likely be no danger during the daytime, so they had just left mere moments ago.” “No matter how fearsome he may be, knowing the detectives were here must have made even him think twice about making a move.”

“Ah, I see.” “That was fortunate.” “If the detectives hadn’t been here, things might have turned out irreparable this time.” “So, he just eavesdropped from outside the storm shutters and slunk away, then?” While speaking, Kamiya had been staring fixedly at the garden when suddenly—as though he had discovered something—his face turned pale. “Mother, look at that over there for a moment.”

He spoke in a frightened whisper, as though the Human Leopard were eavesdropping just nearby,

“Take a good look at those footprints.” “Even though it’s a stuffed animal costume creation, you can clearly see front and back in those footprints.” “All those footprints are facing this way, aren’t they?” “And not a single one points outward.” “Oh, you’re right.” “What does that mean?” The mother still hadn’t grasped the terrifying implication. “In other words—he climbed over the wall to reach this veranda and never left.” “There are only incoming tracks—no returning ones.”

“Oh!”

Ranko and her mother exchanged horrified glances. "I'm scared... Mr. Kamiya... Won't you please go tell the police about this quickly? He's definitely hiding somewhere in this house."

“There’s no need to panic. After all, there are neighbors around. Even if he’s hiding here, he wouldn’t dare come strolling out in broad daylight.”

Kamiya said while stepping out onto the veranda and timidly peering beneath the floorboards. No sooner had he looked than he let out a low “Ah!” and staggered backward. “Is he here? Under the veranda?” Ranko and her mother were already half-crouched, their faces deathly pale as they prepared to flee. There it was. In the dim ground deep beneath the veranda, a ferocious tiger lay motionless. Kamiya hesitated for an instant, but consumed by rage surging violently within him, he leapt down into the garden. Assuming a defensive stance while peering under the veranda, he bellowed:

“Onda, come out! Don’t you dare pull any cowardly tricks!” “Come on out!” “I won’t let you escape today!” But despite Kamiya’s fervor, the tiger neither responded nor moved.

Is it sleeping? No—that can’t be. This is strange. Ah, that’s right. Maybe…

Kamiya picked up a stick that had fallen there and boldly poked at the tiger beneath the veranda. It didn’t move. He felt a strangely limp resistance. “Oh! “It’s nothing but the hide! “That monster took off the tiger costume here and left. “It’s alright—you don’t need to run away.” After reassuring the two in the room, he dragged out the tiger pelt from beneath the veranda. “This is it. “Look at this.”

When he grabbed it by the neck and let it dangle，it looked exactly like the corpse of a large tiger． “But，Mr．Kamiya… After he took it off，what on earth did he do？ After all，isn’t he hiding somewhere？ And isn’t he waiting for night to fall？” Ranko couldn’t stay still and was fidgeting restlessly．

Perhaps that monster was crouching with bated breath in a corner deep under the veranda—a spot invisible from outside. Or perhaps he was waiting motionless in the darkness of the attic for an opportunity to come. No—perhaps he was in that closet over there; if I opened it, from behind the piled-up futons in the back, his eerie eyes might be glowing phosphorescently, staring fixedly this way.

“Mr. Kamiya, I’m terribly sorry to trouble you, but there happens to be a public telephone nearby. Would you be so kind as to inform the police about this matter?” Even before her mother spoke, Kamiya had already been thinking the same thing. He promptly rushed to a public telephone and informed both the Metropolitan Police Department and the Daito Theater office of the situation. Soon after, investigators arrived and conducted a thorough search from under the veranda of Ranko’s house all the way up to the attic, but apart from the aforementioned tiger pelt and footprints, they were unable to discover any other clues. It was confirmed that the Human Leopard was not hiding anywhere.

Once the police had withdrawn, people from the Daito Theater, Ranko’s friends, and others came noisily visiting afterward. The lively chatter of those people allowed them to forget the terror they had felt until then—if only for a little while.

In the afternoon, a young judoka clerk named Kumai, who had been assigned to escort Ranko to and from the theater since the incident, arrived. As they left, the lively crowd departed, leaving behind only four people: Ranko and her mother, Kamiya, and Kumai.

When things grew quiet, an uncontrollable anxiety surged up again in Ranko’s heart. Nightfall was not far off. When the sun set and the world was sealed in darkness, that monster would begin to prowl. He would surely come again tonight. No—he wasn’t on his way. He might already be somewhere in this house. The police had asserted no one was there, but they were dealing with that monster. There was no corner so unexpected that he couldn’t be hiding there, eluding notice.

In the midst of conversation, she would suddenly strain to listen, and there were frequent times when she turned deathly pale. But that wasn’t all. Eventually, she would even deliberately stand up, go to a corner of the room, stand on tiptoe, and listen intently.

“Good heavens, what’s gotten into you? You’re giving me the creeps!” When her mother scolded her, Ranko pressed a finger to her lips with a “Shh,” quietly returned to her seat, and spoke in a terrified voice. “I can hear it. I can hear the rough breathing. He’s definitely hiding up there in the ceiling boards. What should I do? I’m scared to stay in this house. Let’s get out of here. Let’s flee somewhere far, far away where he can’t possibly chase after us!”

“What are you talking about! It’s just your imagination. There’s no way you could hear breathing coming from the attic! Nothing’s happening at all! There’s no way he’s here!” Kamiya scolded Ranko for her timidity, but upon reflection, leaving her in this house as things stood was an exceedingly dangerous proposition. He intended to protect Ranko without leaving her side for a single moment, and it wasn’t as though requesting a police guard was out of the question. However, their opponent was not human. He was a shape-shifting beast of a monster—the one who had fought against thousands of people at the Daito Theater. Any guard would be utterly powerless before him.

“The best course of action is for you to vanish completely without a trace.” “Escape somewhere beyond that monster’s reach.” “But if you stay at your relatives’ or friends’ houses, Ranko, he’d notice immediately—and I don’t know anyone who could hide you either…”

As Kamiya stood perplexed, Kumai, the young judoka, interjected. "I just had a sudden thought—there's something we can do. This should take care of everything... But Mr. Kamiya—are you even listening?"

He dropped his voice to a whisper and quietly gazed up at the ceiling. This man, too, had considered the possibility that the Human Leopard might still be lurking somewhere.

“I think it’s safe, but if you prefer, shall we talk while walking along the bustling main street?” Kamiya was also concerned about the worst-case scenario.

“Ah, that’s a good idea. Then, let’s ask your mother to stay behind and the three of us go out.” Kumai immediately agreed and stood up as if urging them on.

Ranko’s Maid Service

After leaving Ranko’s house and walking about fifty meters down a narrow street, there was a bustling streetcar-lined thoroughfare. Kamiya Yoshio, Kumai, and Egawa Ranko were walking side by side along the sidewalk of that bustling thoroughfare.

“Ranko-san, won’t you become a country girl? Well—disguise yourself as an unassuming country girl using your specialty makeup. You can do that, right?” Kumai, the young man, brought up a truly outlandish idea. “I suppose that’s not impossible, but what exactly are you planning to do by that?” Ranko had become close friends with this energetic young man through their daily comings and goings. “There’s a perfectly suited opportunity available. Actually, my mother was asked by that very person to find such a country girl. They just can’t find anyone suitable. It’s a slightly unusual service position.”

“My, am I supposed to work as a maid?” “Yes, exactly.” “Clever idea, right?” “If you run off to someone you know now, Onda will undoubtedly track you down in the end.” “So we outmaneuver them by making an unimaginable leap.” “You’ll disguise yourself as a country girl and work as a maid in some completely unrelated stranger’s house.” “Hey, Kamiya-san—what do you think of this plan?”

Kamiya was so impressed he felt like slapping his knee. It was an outlandish and far-fetched scheme typical of a review theater clerk, but precisely for that reason, it was perfect to fool the enemy’s watchful eyes. “That’s an interesting idea. No matter what, he’d never suspect that Ran-chan would become a maid… But if she does become a maid, she’ll likely be sent out on errands—that part worries me a bit.” “No, but here’s the thing—you won’t have to take a single step outside the walls.” “The house in question is also extremely unusual—it’s perfectly suited for our purposes.” “The house is surrounded by high concrete walls, with shards of beer bottles embedded atop them like a mountain of needles—a truly formidable setup—and the master remains shut away in a single room year-round, never setting foot outside.” “Well, it’d be a role like keeping the master company or serving as a maid.”

“My, what a strange master. Is he elderly?” Ranko, too, drawn into this strange tale, was gradually growing enthusiastic. “But the master is young.” “She’s about the same age as you, Ranko-san.” “No need to worry.” “The master is a young lady.” “And she’s disabled.” It was said she had some disfigurement on her face—always wearing a black mask, never showing her true face to anyone—an extremely shy young lady. Living such a life, she naturally wanted someone to talk to. “Though I hear there’s an old butler with her, but an old man makes poor company.”

“They’re rich, then?” “Yes, exactly. You may already know this, but she’s the only daughter of a moneylender named Takanashi. Her parents died two or three years ago, and now she’s a poor, disabled girl all alone. She’s said to lead such a solitary life that she refuses not only marriage but even letting others see her face. As I mentioned earlier, given her father’s line of work, the house was built with truly rigorous precautions against burglars—making it ideal for your hideout. No matter how much of a Human Leopard he is, he wouldn’t be able to break through that massive iron gate or climb over a wall like a mountain of needles.”

What a perfectly tailored arrangement this was. This man—though it ill-suited his image as a strapping youth—had produced an ingenious scheme. "How pitiful... I somehow feel like I want to speak with that young lady." "Mr. Kamiya—what if I take the plunge and enter service at the Takanashis'?"

Ranko, spurred by her curiosity about the lonely young lady, grew increasingly enthusiastic. “I think that’s an excellent plan myself,” said Kamiya. “It may be slightly eccentric, but without taking such measures, escaping his watchful eye might prove difficult. You’ll stay hidden there until we capture Onda?” Kamiya too found himself strangely drawn to this peculiar scheme. “If we proceed like this,” Kumai continued, “once they catch him, you can simply explain the circumstances and resign. And though your mother might feel somewhat lonely, couldn’t you ask a relative to stay with her? The Human Leopard has no reason to harm your mother.”

Since Kumai kept urging them, they ultimately resolved to boldly carry out the plan. “It would be best if I escorted you there, but doing so risks alerting them.” “It’d be best if you didn’t accompany her either, Kamiya-san.” “If you’re worried, there’s no shortage of ways to discreetly monitor things.” “I’ll write the letter.” “We’ll say she’s the daughter of an acquaintance from the countryside.” “Ranko-san should disguise herself and bring the letter.” “They’ll definitely hire her.” “I’ll have my mother mention that matter as well, so…”

Kumai laid out concrete steps. The three returned home and secretly whispered the details of their plan into Ranko’s mother’s ear. At first, her mother appeared hesitant, but once convinced this was the only way to escape the beast’s assaults, she grudgingly consented. She couldn’t bring herself to reject the counsel of young Kamiya, in whom she placed absolute trust. Once their scheme was swiftly finalized, Kumai composed a lengthy letter of introduction and passed it to Ranko, who then departed home accompanied by Kamiya wearing nothing but the clothes on her back.

Along the way, they changed cars frequently, stopped by the apartment of Ranko’s close friend S—a review performer—sent her friend running to a secondhand clothing store, and completed her disguise. The popular actress Egawa Ranko had suddenly vanished from this world, and standing before the dressing mirror now was a thoroughly rustic yet undeniably charming girl—wearing an ansenchin-striped kimono with a merino wool sash, her hair styled in a rural Western updo resembling a comb-bound chignon, her dusky cheeks flushed pink like a country maiden newly arrived from the hinterlands of Joshu.

“Perfect, perfect! Like that, no one would ever know.” “As expected, make-up is your forte!” “Oh my goodness! How utterly adorable!” “Mr. Kamiya, even Ranko-san’s look like this isn’t half bad, wouldn’t you say?” Kamiya and S exchanged playful critiques of Ranko’s disguise.

“Alright, this is where I leave you.” “You’ll exit through the back door of this apartment alone, in a country bumpkin fashion, and haggle down the taxi fare.” “Then, change cars several times, take as roundabout a route as possible, and head to the Takanashi residence in Tsukiji.” “And don’t let your country accent give you away, okay?”

Kamiya called Ranko to a corner of the room and whispered softly. “I feel so uneasy... I wonder if it’ll be okay.” “It’s definitely safe. I’ll follow you in another car all the way to their house,” he assured her. “I’ll make sure you’ve safely entered service before heading back. If anything urgent comes up, call my house immediately. I’ll rush over right away.” Before long, this lovely country girl left the apartment and, just as Kamiya had instructed, repeatedly switched automobiles several times before arriving at the Takanashi residence in Tsukiji. Needless to say, the young Kamiya—riding in a separate car—continued his peculiar surveillance.

*Masked Young Lady*

After discarding the car about a block away from the Takanashi residence where she was to enter service, the country girl—Egawa Ranko in disguise—hurried along toward the estate’s gate with a small cloth bundle tucked under her arm.

Just as Kumai had said, the house was built as securely as a fortress. The high concrete walls encircling the estate bristled with jagged glass shards embedded densely along their tops, while the towering granite gateposts bore iron doors—adorned with embossed family crests—that stood firmly shut. Wondering just where she should enter, she looked around and noticed a small entryway in the concrete wall beside the gate. But even there, a copper-clad sliding door stood tightly shut, and no matter how she tried, it wouldn’t budge.

After finally locating a small call bell button and mustering the courage to press it, some time passed before footsteps echoed in the garden, followed by a peculiar clank at the door. She thought they would open it—but no. At the top of the door, a small peephole had been cut, its cover now sliding open. From the three-inch square aperture, a single eye materialized, staring unblinkingly in her direction. “Um, I’m Yoshizaki Hana. Mr. Kumai told me to bring this letter.”

When Ranko spoke as earnestly as she could manage with a rural accent, a slender, elderly hand suddenly reached out from the peephole and snatched away the letter. After a moment, an unexpectedly gentle voice came from within. "I quite understand." "You're here to enter service, then?" "So you're Yoshizaki-san." "Very well, very well. Now please come this way." Then with a clatter, the sliding door opened, revealing a white-haired, white-bearded old man standing on the other side grinning broadly. This must be the Takanashi family's butler they had heard about.

Following behind the old man, she walked along the gravel-paved path inside the gate and entered the entrance; after winding through the dimly lit corridor several times, she was led to a secluded Western-style room. The interior of the spacious house was so deathly quiet one might have thought no one but the old man was present. “I’ve grasped most of it from the letter—your family are farmers, I see.” “And you attended girls’ school up to the third year before dropping out?” “Very well, very well. Perfectly satisfactory.” “But you see, the mistress here—though you’ve likely heard—is a young lady, and a rather difficult patient.” “I’ll arrange for you to have an audience now. Should you please her, you may enter service today with a high wage.”

The old man carefully instructed Yoshizaki Hana—Ranko in disguise—as they walked down the long corridor. He wore a plain tsumugi silk kimono with a black haori of matching fabric, both hands clasped behind his waist as he shuffled forward with hunched shoulders. “Now then, here we are,” he said. “The young mistress lies upon her sickbed, but you must not attempt to gaze upon her face. Though she wears a black hood—so you’d see naught even if you tried—you’d best avert your eyes all the same.”

The old man gave his warning and quietly opened the door. "Young Mistress, I have followed Mr. Kumai’s request—the country-bred maid who has come for an audience is here. May I show her in?" When the old man respectfully inquired after her will, from within the room came an unnaturally shrill, almost flute-like voice— "Please come in." she replied. My, what a pitiful voice that was! There must have been something wrong with her throat or mouth. Ranko, driven by curiosity, followed the old man into the room.

It was a Western-style room of about fifteen tatami mats, with a round table and two ornate chairs intended for women placed at its center. Against the far wall stood an old-fashioned canopied bed, imposingly positioned. The bed lay concealed behind a curtain of thin silk, through which one could glimpse pure white sheets and the faint outline of a figure. “I must apologize for receiving you like this while lying down,” came the voice from behind the silk curtain, its shrill tone incongruously gentle. “Old man, give that person a chair.”

The young mistress’s flute-like voice came gently from beyond the thin silk curtain.

Ranko, as she was urged, sat modestly on the chair facing the old man. “Old man, explain that matter thoroughly to that person.”

The young mistress intended to have the old man test this girl while she observed from nearby. “First and foremost,” the old man began pompously. “If you are to enter service here, you must understand that during your service, you will not step a single foot outside the house.” “We have a bath here, and as for shopping and such matters, there is another maid—so you may ask her.” “Now then—can you endure such conditions?”

“Yes, I don’t mind at all.” “Since I don’t want to go outside or anything like that.” “Oh, is that so? “You dislike going out, do you?” “That’s most convenient.” “Now, as you know, your duty here is to serve as this Young Mistress’s maid, but as I mentioned earlier, since she is ill, no matter what she says, you must not answer back.” “You must carry out everything exactly as she says.” “Do you understand?”

“I’m rather selfish, you see, so I do tend to make unreasonable demands.”

A flute-like voice added mockingly.

“Yes, I will do exactly as you say.” Ranko remained absolutely demure.

“Old man, I’ve taken a liking to this one. What an obedient girl she is.” “And she has such a lovely face, doesn’t she?”

The young mistress seemed to have taken a thorough liking to Ranko. “Then we have settled the terms.” “Yes, that’s fine.” “Do hurry and finalize it, please.” “And give her a generous salary, won’t you?”

“Hana-san, it is as you have heard.” “As for your parents, I shall inform them in detail by letter in due course. You may stay here starting today.” “You have no particular objections?” “Ah, I see.” “Very well, very well.” “Now, regarding your salary—since the Young Mistress has spoken, we shall depart from previous precedent and set it at one hundred yen per month.” “You have no objections, I trust?”

Ranko had no reason to object to the salary or anything else. A hundred yen was quite a generous sum. Imagining from this amount alone, she thought tending to the spoiled Young Mistress must be rather trying work, but all other conditions were entirely satisfactory. Above all, the prohibition on going out was most advantageous for her as she sought to avoid detection. However spoiled she might be called, the other party was a girl of her own age. Though her voice resembled a flute’s tone, she didn’t appear particularly ill-natured. If anything, she seemed like a childishly innocent sort of spoiled person. Ranko felt that under these circumstances, she could likely continue her service for some time.

“Then that will be acceptable.” “We’ve settled it… Your room will be the small Western-style chamber in the next room.” “It’s a room too good for a servant, but we want you to always stay near the Young Mistress.” “Now, you should go and put that luggage in the next room.”

Following the old man’s instructions, Ranko placed her cloth-wrapped bundle on the desk in that small room, then stood before the dressing table there to adjust her appearance slightly before returning to the original bedroom. “Young Mistress, I shall now take my leave over there, but to begin with, is there anything you would like to instruct this girl to do?” When the old man stood up and asked, the young mistress vigorously sat up in bed, parted the thin silk canopy, and finally revealed her nightgown-clad figure.

Her appearance was truly bizarre. While lying on a Western-style bed, she wore a pure Japanese-style long underkimono of extravagant yuzen-dyed crepe silk with trailing sleeves fastened by a glittering ornamental sash. From head to chin stretched a black silk hood shaped like a traditional bridal headdress. "I’d like to take a bath—could you have that girl prepare it for me?"

“Understood… Hana-san, follow me then—I’ll show you the bathhouse.” “The bath has already been properly heated, so you need only check the temperature and neatly arrange the towels—that will suffice.”

While saying such things, the old man made his way along the corridor once more and guided her to the splendid bath chamber. Both the bathtub and washing area were entirely tiled—perhaps due to poor natural lighting—and though it was daytime, beautiful ornamental lamps glittered brilliantly throughout. After the old man left, Ranko hiked up the hem of her kimono, stepped down onto the tiles, removed the bathtub lid to check the water temperature, drew water into buckets, and bustled about diligently preparing the bath. Before long, the door to the adjoining changing room opened quietly, and the young mistress entered still wearing her black hood.

“It is just the right temperature.”

Ranko, wiping her hands, stepped up into the changing room and bent slightly at the waist before the young mistress.

“Yes.” “Now then, you take off your kimono and get in the bath with me.” “And you will wash my body.”

She truly was an eccentric young mistress. Taking a bath together with a maid—what a peculiar habit she had. Even so, what did she intend to do with that masked hood? Was she going to get into the bath just like that? Ranko stood flustered in silence when suddenly the spoiled young mistress’s shrill voice echoed through the room.

“Take off your kimono.” “What are you spacing out for?” “Hurry up now.”

Ah, so this was what the hundred-yen monthly salary meant. No matter what unreasonable demands were made of her, not being permitted to oppose them—that was one of the terms here, she realized. Ranko had no choice but to begin untying her obi. Worrying that her skin might be a bit too pale for a country girl, she continued undoing the narrow cords one after another.

“Young Mistress, won’t you also remove your kimono?” Since the other party remained standing rigidly, motionless for so long, when she tentatively made that suggestion, the young mistress replied in a voice that still sounded angry, “Enough—you undress.” “Now go ahead and get into the bath first.” she commanded. Ah, this Young Mistress was ashamed of her deformed body. But if that were the case, then there should be no need for her to bathe together with a maid or the like.

Ranko, doing as she was told, finally ended up completely naked. And just as she was about to hurry into the bathhouse, there came the Young Mistress’s voice once more. “My, you have a beautiful body, don’t you.” “Did you just come from the countryside?” “You’re lying.” “Weren’t you actually performing in the review at Daitō Theater?” Ranko froze in shock as if struck by lightning. She had underestimated her as a sheltered young lady, but now she realized just how sharp-eyed this person was.

“Egawa Ranko.” “That’s right, isn’t it?” “I know full well.” Strangely, the Young Mistress’s tone had changed drastically. Her flute-like high-pitched voice had somehow transformed into a hoarse, deep rumble. “Forgive me… There are circumstances behind this.” “It was never done with any malicious intent.”

Ranko sat naked on the cork-covered floor of the changing room and apologized meekly. She had no other choice but to do so. “There’s no need to apologize.” “And what are those circumstances?” “Wasn’t it to evade the notice of that terrifying man Onda?” Ranko, overwhelmed by the sheer suddenness of it all, could no longer speak. “Hahahaha! Did I surprise you, Ranko-san? Poor thing—you’ve gone completely pale.” “There’s nothing strange about it at all.” “I know you far too well, you see.”

It was unmistakably a man’s voice. The young mistress was speaking in a deep male voice.

Ranko felt her breath catch, frozen utterly still. Am I dreaming? Have I gone mad? Could such madness truly exist? Or perhaps—could it be—? The realization struck her like a physical blow. Choking back tears, she forced out a desperate cry. "Who are you? Who are you?" "No one." "The man you've been longing to meet." The hood tore away. Beneath lay dusk-black flesh—a gaunt frame, eyes blazing blue like phosphorus, crimson lips baring fanged teeth—Onda! The Human Leopard!

The moment Ranko saw it, she let out an indescribable scream and tried to bolt toward the door. “Ha ha ha ha! Ranko-san, no, no—I’ve already locked that door properly.” “Look. The key’s right here.” “Do you want it?” “If you want it, I’m not unwilling to give it.” “There’s just a small condition, though.” The human beast, having revealed his true form, flicked his crimson tongue over his lips and smirked with evident satisfaction.

Ranko curled up her limbs and huddled in the corner of the room as if she had nowhere to hide. And, quivering like a child, she watched Onda’s movements with terrified eyes. The human beast stared fixedly at Ranko. He stared at her for a long time without moving a muscle. But before long, his upper body leaned toward her, and both hands gradually bent. Finally, he transformed into that eerie stance—a leopard poised to pounce upon its prey at any moment.

Ranko had curled her body into a tight ball like a bound monkey, shrinking into the corner of the changing room, her unblinking eyes fixed on the monster’s terrifying visage as it crept closer—as though bound by invisible threads. “Bwahahaha!” The monster bared its long fangs, quivered its glistening red lips, and roared with laughter as if convulsing in delight. “Ranko, do you have any idea how I’m feeling right now? “I’m having a hell of a good time.” “I’ve finally caught you.” “No matter what happens now, I’m not letting go.” “But you sure gave me hell, I’ll tell ya.”

Dressed in a furisode, Onda said such things while clawing at the air with both hands and lumbered over Ranko in the corner like a gigantic beast. “Aah...! Help...!”

Ranko opened her mouth wide enough to swallow her whole face and let out a desperate scream.

“Bwahahahaha!” The more his prey trembled with fear, the more intensely the monster blazed with delight, sustaining his putrid, beastly guffaws.

The long-clawed, emaciated fingers were just an inch away from touching Ranko’s shoulder. But she had not yet lost her fighting spirit.

“Waa…!” Letting out a scream as though about to be killed, she slipped nimbly beneath his hands and rolled like a ball into the white-tiled bathroom. “Bwahahahaha! You’re finally a cornered rat.” “Do you realize?” “There are no windows in this bathroom.” “So you’ve fallen right into my trap.” And his beast-like black naked form crawled on all fours, slowly and deliberately descending the tiled stairs.

Unbeknownst to her, Ranko was submerged up to her neck in the bathtub. Like a cat toying with a mouse, the Human Leopard did not attack immediately. Crouched in the tiled washing area, he kept his head low—his glaring blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on his prey submerged in the bathwater—watching with evident delight, endlessly and endlessly. Outside the same mansion, Ranko’s lover Kamiya Yoshio paced around and around the concrete wall embedded with shards of glass.

He had seen Ranko off to her maid service in a separate automobile and watched her enter the mansion grounds, yet still felt vaguely uneasy. For over thirty minutes, he lingered in front of the estate, circled around to the back, searched for any vantage point to peer inside, and hesitated to leave. But resigning himself that there was no use continuing, he finally hailed a passing automobile. Just as he was getting into the automobile, within the mansion grounds, that bathhouse tragedy had begun—but even within the vast mansion’s sealed bathing chamber, no matter how desperately Ranko screamed, her voice could never reach beyond those walls. Or perhaps it was unavoidable that Kamiya, unaware of this, left for home in relief, believing he had completely hidden his lover from the Human Leopard’s sight.

But whether some sixth sense had warned him or not, inside the speeding automobile, Kamiya’s mind was strangely unsettled. Is this really all right? Whatever one might say, the opponent was that demonic Human Leopard. With his beastly keen senses, given time, he would inevitably uncover Ranko’s hiding place. For Ranko’s safety, rather than hiding her away, the optimal strategy was to capture the Human Leopard himself as swiftly as possible. Then, whether they threw him in prison or sentenced him to death, it would bring peace not just to Ranko but to society at large. If a beast that had escaped its zoo cage went lumbering through town, none of Tokyo’s citizens could rest easy.

Regarding that matter, Kamiya had something he had been considering for several days now. If the police force could not be relied upon, there was no other means. The only hope was to enlist the help of a capable private detective. When it came to private detectives, the one who immediately sprang to mind was Akechi Kogoro. He had heard numerous accounts of how Akechi had effortlessly solved difficult cases that had stumped the police. Especially for a mysterious criminal like the Human Leopard, wouldn’t Akechi be precisely the one suited?

“Ah, you—we’re changing destinations.” “Ryudo-cho in Azabu.” “It’s in Ryudo-cho, you know—the house of Akechi Kogoro.” “Understood.” “The private detective, right?”

The driver answered vigorously. “Oh, you know him well.” “Well, he’s famous. I’ve been waiting impatiently for Mr. Akechi to make his appearance.” “Where exactly are you expecting him to appear?” “You must know—that incident at the Grand Theater? It’s that beast who’s after Ranko. I’ve been thinking how great it’d be if Mr. Akechi would just show up and take down that human-leopard half-breed creature. I’m a huge fan of Egawa Ranko, you know.”

“Ah, is that so.” “No doubt that’s exactly what’ll happen.”

Even someone else’s driver had noticed that point. "Why hadn’t I gone to see Detective Akechi sooner?" Kamiya felt all the more reassured.

After the "Vampire" incident, Akechi Kogoro had vacated his bachelor apartment at Kaika Apartments and established a new marital home in Ryudo-cho, Azabu Ward with a beautiful woman named Ms. Fumiyo—his former assistant. That household simultaneously functioned as a detective agency. Since both husband and wife shared a passion for detective work and adventure, there had been no need to separate their domestic life from professional affairs. A small brass plaque engraved with "Akechi Detective Agency" hung on the low granite gatepost. Beyond it lay a stone path flanked by jujube hedges that curved once before revealing a compact white Western-style house. Pressing the entrance bell would prompt the door to swing open immediately, revealing an adorable boy in a high-collared uniform with apple-round cheeks. This was Kobayashi—the boy assistant who had accomplished feats beyond adult capabilities during the "Vampire" case.

Fortunately, Akechi was at home. Kamiya was graciously ushered into the parlor and was about to meet the renowned detective for the first time. However, just as he entered the parlor, another automobile came to a stop at the gate. And there, within it, wasn’t the one whose eyes gleamed none other than that strange old man with white hair and beard who claimed to be the butler of the Takanashi family? Kamiya hadn’t noticed in the slightest, but the other party hadn’t missed the suspicious-looking youth prowling before the gate. No—the old man might have known even more than that.

He had followed Kamiya’s trail. And he had confirmed seeing him enter the Akechi Detective Agency.

The old man stopped the car and spent a short while lost in thought before taking out a notebook from his pocket, tearing out a page, writing something on it with a pencil, and handing it to the driver while— “Take this letter and slip it quietly through the gap in the front door of this house, you hear? “Is that clear?” “And make sure no one sees you.” he commanded.

This driver, evidently no ordinary man, showed no suspicion toward the bizarre order. Without a word, he stepped out of the car and vanished through the gate on stealthy feet.

The Renowned Detective's Anxiety

In the mansion’s parlor, before Akechi Kogoro leaning back in an armchair, young Kamiya was giving a detailed account of every event since his bizarre encounter with the Human Leopard Onda. Akechi—with his lifelong habit of thrusting all five fingers of his right hand like a comb into his disheveled mop of hair—nodded occasionally as he listened with intense focus. Given the lengthy narration, even the beautiful Mrs. Akechi Fumiyo personally brought refreshments into the room three times during their discussion.

"So under these circumstances, while Ranko may be temporarily safe, we must not let our guard down for a moment. Moreover, since that monster holds a deep grudge against me, I myself feel uneasy about my personal safety. That's why I came to ask you—separately from the police—to investigate Onda's whereabouts..." As Kamiya concluded his words, Akechi made a somewhat worried face and—

“That judoka named Kumai—the one who arranged for Ms. Ranko to stay with the Takanashi family—do you know his address?” asked an odd question. “I know.” “He’s renting a house in Senzoku-cho, Asakusa where he lives with just his mother.” “Is there no telephone?” “I believe there was a neighborhood telephone exchange service available.” “If you inquire with the Grand Theater office, they might know…… But do you have some business with Kumai?”

Young Kamiya had heard that the renowned detective had his eccentricities, but he thought this was a bit too outlandish. “No, I’ll explain the details later.” “It’s extremely urgent.” “If you wouldn’t mind, could you use that telephone to inquire with the Grand Theater?”

Akechi pointed at the desk telephone and urged. “A call to reach Mr. Kumai?” “Yes, that’s right… I can’t help but feel that Mr. Kumai and his mother may have already moved away somewhere else.” “If they’re still there, that would be a relief…” What on earth was this detective thinking? Hadn’t I just parted ways with Kumai this very noon? At that time, he had not once brought up anything about moving. Moreover, for Detective Akechi Kogoro—who shouldn’t have even met Kumai—to predict his moving was as bewildering as being tricked by a fox.

Though Kamiya couldn't contain his doubts, Akechi's sharp eyes kept urgently pressing him. Unable to ask for clarification, he obediently picked up the receiver and inquired at the Grand Theater about the matter. "Did you get that? Then call there yourself and try to reach either Mr. Kumai or his mother." "Do you have business with him?"

“Yes, I do have business with him.”

Akechi maintained an air of composure. Reluctantly, Kamiya connected the call to Yanagiya Sake Shop—the place he had just been told about—and requested that someone from Kumai’s household come running. “Hello? Is this Mr. Kumai? You’re the Mr. Kumai who practices judo, correct? That gentleman moved out suddenly this afternoon.” “Huh? He moved out? Is that true?” “Indeed, I wouldn’t lie to you. It was all terribly sudden, you see. Things like chests of drawers and kitchenware—it seems they mostly disposed of them through a secondhand dealer.”

“So, he went back to his hometown, you say? I wonder where his hometown was.” “Well, I’m afraid I don’t know much about that.” And with that, the call ended. Young Kamiya was utterly flabbergasted. He had heard that Akechi was a once-in-a-generation great detective. But he was no fortune-teller—how on earth could he have predicted that a complete stranger would move out today?

“Are you saying he went back to his hometown?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” “But how did you know that, Detective?”

“I’ll explain the details later. I had been worried about something after listening to your account. That has now only partially come true. Now there’s nothing left but to investigate the scene ourselves. Now then, let’s go together. We can discuss it in the car.” Akechi appeared terribly irritated; without even attempting to respond to Kamiya’s questioning expression, he called for the boy Kobayashi and ordered him to summon the automobile.

“Actually, earlier—during our conversation—I stepped out to the lavatory, you know. At that time, as I passed through the entranceway, I found this. It must have been thrown in by someone after your arrival here, of course.”

Akechi said this and showed a scrap of paper that appeared to be torn from a notebook. On it, in hurried pencil strokes, a terrifying message was scrawled on the left side: "Mr. Akechi, you must absolutely not involve yourself in the case that Kamiya Yoshio has brought to you. Are you not presently enjoying your beautiful wife and new domestic life? Abandon this reckless venture. Should you disregard this counsel and plunge into the thick of this affair, you shall encounter a calamity so profound that no regret will suffice to undo it."

“Could this be Onda’s doing?” Kamiya looked at Akechi’s face in surprise.

“Of course. You’ve been tailed by one of Onda’s associates. When that stalker saw you enter my house, they scribbled this threat in a panic.” “But what exactly does ‘great misfortune’ mean?” Kamiya spoke with regret coloring his tone—regret for ever bringing this case to the detective. “Ha! No need to fret,” Akechi dismissed with a laugh. “I’ve got a fair idea what it means. But if you let fear rule you, detective work becomes impossible. Threatening letters? I’ve grown so accustomed to them they barely register anymore.”

Akechi declared nonchalantly.

Just then, they received word that the automobile had arrived, so the two of them hurriedly left the room.

“Kobayashi, you’re coming along too. We might just run into a rather tough enemy!” Akechi patted the beautiful boy—whom he had escorted to the entrance—on the shoulder as he said this.

“Yes, sir. I’ll accompany you.” The boy Kobayashi answered in a clear voice and, looking quite pleased, ran out eagerly to open the automobile door.

“Take us to Tsukiji.” When the three sat down side by side on the cushions, Akechi ordered their destination. The car immediately started moving. “Tsukiji, you say…”

Kamiya, urged along, still did not know his destination.

“Of course, it’s the Takanashi residence! Do you understand? Where did you come from just now to reach my house? Wasn’t it from in front of the Takanashi residence in Tsukiji? If there was a man following you… it would be strange for him to have spotted and begun trailing you midway… We must conclude that man had been tracking you from the Takanashi residence. Even if you believed yourself unnoticed, they may have been closely monitoring your movements.”

“The Takanashi family… following *me*?” Because Akechi’s reasoning was too abrupt, Kamiya fell into a strange confusion and posed a foolish question that would later make him cringe with shame. “That’s right. Ah, you’ve put your complete trust in that man Kumai, haven’t you? That’s understandable. After all, that man had been serving as Ranko-san’s guard. However, the devil’s temptation reaches into every corner. In fact, there’s even an example where the electric panel operator at Daito Theater was bribed for Onda. I can’t definitively say Kumai hasn’t been defeated by the same tactic. What’s most suspicious is his sudden relocation. Moreover, that was the very afternoon he arranged a position for Ranko-san. First of all, isn’t it strange that a young judo practitioner would arrange employment for a maid? Didn’t you think to question that?”

Inside the speeding automobile, Akechi carefully explained.

Having heard that far, even as confused as he was, he could no longer fail to grasp the meaning of Akechi’s concern. The young Kamiya started and instinctively glared at Akechi’s profile.

“So you’re saying… Onda’s hand has reached even that Takanashi household?” “Exactly. We won’t know the truth unless we go see for ourselves, but between the threatening letter and Mr. Kumai’s sudden relocation, I can’t help but feel that’s the case. Mr. Kumai mentioned that the young lady of the Takanashi family is a cripple who always wears a mask over her face, correct? When I heard that, I was startled. I might be overthinking this. I can only hope that’s the case. However, such methods are often employed by crafty criminals and the like, you see. I’ve seen that same method used before.”

“Ah, could that masked young lady be…” “Yes, I can only hope it’s not Onda in disguise.” “Damn you, beast!” "That’s it." "It has to be." "Ah, what a fool I was." "After all my painstaking efforts... I’ve gone and thrown Ranko into that beast’s trap…"

Kamiya turned deathly pale and stamped his feet on the automobile floor.

“Hey driver, I’ll pay you extra—can’t you go any faster? “It’s a matter of life and death! “Faster, even faster!” He screamed like a madman. “However, no matter how much we try to hurry, we may already be a step behind.” Akechi said with a look of deep concern. “Why do you say that? “It’s only been a little over two hours since Ranko went to the Takanashi residence…”

“Under normal circumstances, there would be no need to worry, but someone has been following you.” “He fears me.” “Precisely because he fears me, he left that threatening letter.” “What does he fear?” “My deductive abilities.” “I might suspect the Takanashi family.” “That’s what he fears.” “In that case, he may have gotten ahead of us—returned to the Takanashi residence and prepared defenses against any attack.”

“What do you mean by ‘preparations’?”

“Well, it’s that preparation I dread most.” “Of course, we won’t know unless we go there ourselves.” “I can only hope this is a baseless fear… but if things turn ill…” “Ranko…” “Yes.” “He isn’t human.” “As past cases show, he’s equivalent to a carnivorous beast.” Akechi fell silent after muttering this, his face clouded with inexpressible anxiety.

Bizarre Offering

Under the direction of the young man Kamiya, who knew the way, when the car stopped at a suitable location, the three hurriedly alighted. Akechi handed a business card he had prepared in advance inside the vehicle to the boy Kobayashi and,

“You wait outside. Do you have a wristwatch? Exactly ten minutes. If we don’t come out within ten minutes of entering the Takanashi residence, you run to the nearest police box. And then hand them this business card and have them call headquarters. And then immediately ask them to make arrangements to rescue us. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Understood.” “I don’t think that’s likely to happen, but... “It’s merely a precautionary measure.”

Now, when Akechi and Kamiya approached the gates of the Takanashi residence, they found the side door next to the main gate half-open. Without hesitation, they entered through it and pressed the entrance bell. But no matter how much they pressed, there was no response. When they tried putting their hands on the lattice door, it opened with a loud rattling noise, without any resistance. “Excuse me. Is anyone home?”

No matter how many times they shouted, no one came out. “Please wait here until I call you.” “I’ve come prepared with these things, so I’ll be fine—but I can’t risk anything happening to you.” Akechi took out a small pistol from his pocket and showed it. When Kamiya acknowledged his understanding, the detective removed his shoes and ventured alone into the dimly lit house—but after barely five minutes had passed, he returned with a look of disappointment.

“Just as I thought—my deduction was correct.” “There’s no one here.” “I checked from the bathhouse to the storehouse—there were traces someone had been there, but it’s completely deserted.” “This is actually an empty house.” “Onda must have rented the vacant property and only furnished the necessary rooms.” “There was furniture only in the reception room and what appeared to be a Western-style bedroom in the back; all other rooms were utterly bare.” “The only strange thing is that someone seems to have bathed mere moments ago—the water’s still warm.”

Akechi explained the details. "Couldn't they be hiding somewhere? And was Onda really the master of this place?" Kamiya asked with reluctant resignation. "There's no mistake about that. Look here—this is the threatening letter left on the small table in that bedroom by the fiend." Sure enough, on a scrap of notebook paper was a brusquely scrawled message: "Akechi-kun, you were just one step too late. My condolences."

"So he knew full well that you would come here." Kamiya exclaimed in surprise.

“That’s right. To him, I’m more than enough of an adversary. But we’ve made a truly regrettable mistake. Given how cunning he is, no matter how much we search, there’s no way he’d leave behind any clues hinting at his escape route. We have no choice but to withdraw for now.” “But what has become of Ranko? Surely she wouldn’t be taken away without a fight.” “That’s exactly it. What I’ve been worried about all along. However, now that things have come to this, there’s no choice but to rely on organized police force rather than individual power like mine. We should immediately visit the Metropolitan Police Headquarters using that car. And then, let’s meet with the Chief of the First Investigative Division. Chief Tsunekawa is quite approachable, you know.”

And when they exited the gates of the Takanashi residence, they drove the car they had kept waiting and hastened to the Metropolitan Police Headquarters.

As a result, the police sprang into action—scrutinizing the Tsukiji crime scene as a matter of course, inquiring with Kumai’s hometown, and meticulously directing their efforts to every remotely relevant avenue to conduct exhaustive investigations—yet they failed to grasp even a single clue. Needless to say, they investigated the landlord of the house Onda had rented. However, beyond the fact that an elderly man named Takanashi—white-haired and white-bearded—had properly followed formal procedures, paid a substantial deposit, and rented it, nothing could be ascertained.

And so the night passed—but the next morning, what Akechi had feared finally materialized as reality.

That morning, a strange gift was delivered to Kamiya Yoshio’s residence. The sender was unknown to anyone. According to the delivery service that transported it, a car had stopped in the pale light of dawn, presented Kamiya Yoshio’s address, and requested immediate delivery. The gift was a large wooden box roughly the size of two Chinese-style suitcases stacked vertically. On its lid was affixed an oversized ceremonial paper decoration resembling a noshi shop’s signboard, while its midsection was bound with an absurdly thick decorative cord—the kind that might adorn a mizuhiki shop’s display—in a crisscross pattern.

“Could it be a large vase or something?” Since the delivery person had made that remark before leaving, Kamiya inadvertently let his guard down—though he had no inkling of its origin—and thinking it might be a gift from someone at his company, he had the student helper assist him in opening it, but…

When he opened it, what first shocked his eyes was the enormous bouquet covering every inch of the box's surface. At that sight, young Kamiya found himself crushed by a premonition—his heart began clamoring like frantic temple bells—yet he could not turn away. Gently parting the floral cascade—ah yes, just as feared...the renowned detective's prophecy had been gruesomely fulfilled...there lay Egawa Ranko's fully nude corpse, beautiful as a wax doll.

Within that body resembling white wax, there existed only one part that was not beautiful. What had killed Ranko was precisely this unbeautiful portion. At her throat gaped a dark crimson wound like an open mouth. It appeared as though some wild beast’s sharp fangs had torn through the flesh. Suddenly noticing, he found a letter resting upon the corpse’s chest. In frenzied desperation Kamiya tore open the envelope, where—in handwriting identical to that thrown into Akechi’s home the previous evening—the following vile words had been inscribed.

“Kamiya-kun, you have committed an act of thoughtless recklessness. If you hadn’t gone to see Detective Akechi, this would never have happened. Moreover, had Mr. Akechi heeded last evening’s warning and withdrawn his hand, Ranko would have remained unharmed. You have committed an irreparable blunder. Be sure to convey my regards to Mr. Akechi as well. I’ll repay you in full someday—you can count on that.” “From your so-called ‘Human Leopard’.”

The Second Coffin

The coffin delivery incident was anything but ordinary, given that the victim was Egawa Ranko—the star of the capital’s entertainment world—and the murderer none other than the monster known as the Human Leopard who had terrorized the public. That day’s evening papers squandered every impassioned adjective, filling nearly their entire society sections with this coverage. Photographs of Ranko and Akechi Kogoro were splashed across the pages like carnival attractions. The chaos at Kamiya’s residence—now the incident’s epicenter—went without saying. Household associates scurried about in disarray. Relatives of Ranko rushed over, Daito Theater staff came running, and police officers came stomping in with heavy footsteps. After enduring police questioning and a harsh grilling from his father, Kamiya faced his weeping mother until he finally shut himself away like an invalid. Yet as the commotion waned—afternoon fading into evening—his composure returned only to let fresh anguish claw at his chest: the agony of losing his lover and white-hot fury toward his nemesis, the Human Leopard. No matter what, he couldn’t swallow his tears and endure this—he would comb through every blade of grass to hunt down Onda and his father, exacting vengeance without fail. He could no longer stay still. His sole confidant remained Akechi Kogoro. Moreover, he needed to report that morning’s events to Akechi. Kamiya hurriedly prepared to leave and slipped out without telling a soul.

Kamiya hailed a taxi and rushed toward Akechi’s office. Along the way, bustling main street corners buzzed with the jingling bells of evening paper vendors and posters declaring “Egawa Ranko Murder Case,” but he couldn’t bring himself to stop the car and buy a newspaper. He turned his face away as if averting his gaze and hurried past posters plastered with garish red-ink circles. Akechi, appearing to have waited impatiently, ushered him into the reception room. Several evening newspapers lay spread across the table. There, photographs of Ranko from her lifetime smiled back in various poses.

“I must apologize to you. This happened because I underestimated that monster.” “Because I ignored the warning letter and he attacked the Tsukiji house.” “I truly have no excuse.”

Akechi apologized frankly. “No, I don’t believe it was your mistake, Mr. Akechi.” “In that situation, there was no other way to act.” “It was precisely because it was you, Mr. Akechi, that you saw through their wicked scheme.” “Ranko was destined to meet such a fate eventually.” “If it weren’t for your assistance, Mr. Akechi, her death might have been delayed somewhat.” “However, that would only prolong her suffering, since she was never going to survive anyway.” “But more than that, I want you to capture Ranko’s enemy.” “I want you to use your power to locate the hideout of the Onda father and son.”

Kamiya Yoshio did not resent Akechi in the slightest. He felt gratitude if anything; there was not the least cause for resentment.

“You needn’t say it. I’ve been working on that since this morning—not only did I get a call from you and detailed information from my contacts at the Metropolitan Police Department, but the murderer himself has challenged me again. For my own self-defense, I can’t just sit idle.” “Wait—so he sent another challenge letter?”

“That’s right,” “Look here—this is it.” Akechi took a single envelope from his pocket and unfolded the letter paper inside to show it. *Akechi-kun*, I can practically see your shocked face. “Have you grasped my power now?” “I always fulfill my promises—you’ll witness it.” “Stay vigilant.” “Didn’t I vow to repay you properly?” “Do you understand what form this repayment will take?” How I long to behold *Mr. Great Detective’s* tear-streaked visage.

“Around noon, he sneakily threw it into the entrance and left,” Akechi explained. “He’s already set up surveillance around my house. He might even be listening to this conversation from some corner right now.” He laughed nonchalantly. “But what does this ‘repayment’ actually mean?” Kamiya pressed anxiously. “If it’s what I think… I’d be causing you terrible trouble.”

When Kamiya read the eerie threatening letter, he could no longer remain composed. "I can well imagine what you're thinking, but really—there's no need to worry at all." "On my side, I've made preparations corresponding to the enemy's cunning, you see." "To those who use ridiculous childish tricks, I have no choice but to counter with even greater stratagems."

Akechi’s demeanor even looked somehow cheerful. Kamiya could not help being startled by the professional detective’s nerves.

"But shouldn't he be resenting me instead? After all, it's all my fault their hideout was burned down and their precious leopard got shot dead. And wasn't I the one who asked you to take on this case? Leaving me alone to plot revenge against you..." "Of course he resents you too, but I'm the main obstacle to their wicked schemes. They'll naturally start by eliminating the bigger nuisance first. Besides, I've got something at my place he simply can't ignore."

Akechi said this and exchanged glances with Mrs. Fumiyo, who had just arrived carrying tea. She resembled them—she truly did. Mrs. Fumiyo bore an exact likeness to Hiroko and Ranko in her features. Ah, then had the Human Leopard already set his sights on this beautiful Mrs. Akechi as his next prey? Could he be planning to kidnap the great detective’s own young wife? “Then, he’s…” Kamiya stared boldly at Mrs. Fumiyo’s face, overwhelmed by the situation—or perhaps unable to voice even that—and hesitated mid-sentence.

“That’s right.” “It may seem a bit far-fetched, but since beasts lack any human common sense, they act in an extremely simple manner—driven purely by emotion.” “The wording of this challenge letter—there’s no other way to interpret it, is there?” When he thought about it, it made perfect sense. What a brilliant scheme! Satisfying the beast’s carnal desires would thereby become a means of revenge against the great detective. That’s exactly the kind of thing he’d come up with.

“If that’s truly what this means… Ah, I’ve grown terrified somehow. Are you certain you’re ready? Through all my past experiences, I know that creature’s power intimately. He isn’t human. He’s a demon—one who wields a demon’s cunning and strength.” He nearly blurted out, “How can you remain so composed?” but checked himself, suddenly aware of his own rudeness.

“If that’s the sort of opponent we’re dealing with, it sounds positively delightful. Akechi has been grumbling nonstop lately about the lack of major cases, you see.” Mrs. Fumiyo said this and smiled radiantly, her cute double canines on display. Well now—what a bold wife she was, defying all expectations! Kamiya was left utterly dumbfounded. He had no idea how courageously Mrs. Fumiyo had acted as Akechi’s female detective assistant during the “Vampire” case.

“Above all else, we must locate that monster’s hiding place. Mr. Akechi—do you have some strategy prepared?”

When Kamiya asked, the detective answered with unruffled composure.

“There’s no need to locate it.” “They’ll come to us.” “I’m waiting for that.” “When?”

“Probably tonight.” “He may already be prowling around here.” “Now, listen.” “Can’t you hear how violently my dog is barking?”

Before they knew it, night had fallen, and outside the window had turned pitch black. The entire area was an estate district, and aside from the sound of a piano leaking from somewhere, there was a hushed, desolate silence.

Before long, amid the clamorous barking of a dog that suddenly seemed to draw near, something burst into the parlor like a bullet.

“Oh, S, what’s happened to you!”

Mrs. Fumiyo’s hands, which had caught her sturdy beloved dog, were smeared thickly with terrifying blood. In his mistress’s arms, S let out one abnormally shrill cry before going completely limp. The dripping blood instantly began staining the rug bright red.

“What on earth happened? And these wounds?”

Mrs. Fumiyo turned slightly pale and gazed meaningfully at Detective Akechi’s face.

It was indeed a grotesque wound. The entire back was dotted with wounds as if they had been torn out, with a single gouge on the neck appearing to be the fatal injury. These were decidedly not bite marks. They were lacerations from some sort of sharp, claw-like instrument. But this was no human work. Human fingernails could never be so viciously sharp.

“That bastard! He’s the one who attacked S.” “Fumiyo, be on your guard!” As Akechi rose smoothly to his feet, his hand swiftly gripped the small pistol from his pocket. And as if by prior arrangement—where had she been hiding it?—there now lay the same pistol in gentle Mrs. Fumiyo’s right hand. “You stay hidden in the parlor.” “Lock the door and never open it.” Having barked this command, Akechi rushed outside. Mrs. Fumiyo hurried up to the second-floor parlor as ordered. Then, from somewhere, came the sight of young Kobayashi’s squirrel-swift figure—clad in black—chasing after Akechi down the corridor.

Kamiya couldn’t remain still either. When he timidly went out to the entrance, Akechi and young Kobayashi seemed to have circled around to the backyard through the brushwood gate in the garden. Although the area outside the gate was desolate, it was a thoroughfare where taxis occasionally passed. Thinking there was no way [the creature] could be hiding near the gate, he deliberately chose that seemingly safe direction and plodded forward.

But after walking five or six steps along the stone-paved path, he became too terrified to go any further. The jujube hedges on both sides cast pitch-black shadows, and within them, he sensed something ominous lurking. Even as he tried not to look, a sinister aura irresistibly drew his eyes toward it. In the darkest shadow of the hedge—there in the darkness about three feet above the ground—ah, those unforgettable two blue-burning fireflies were staring fixedly this way, weren’t they?

The instant Kamiya saw it, he let out an indescribable scream—one that would later fill him with shame to recall—and fled back toward the entrance in a headlong rush. Yet even as he fled, glancing over his shoulder, he sensed that the monster too had been startled: a black shadow rustled through the hedges and flew away toward the gate like an ominous wind. “Mr. Kamiya, what’s wrong?”

Hearing the scream, Akechi and Kobayashi—the boy—returned to the entrance.

“Was he here?”

Kamiya pointed outside the gate and informed them in a hoarse voice, “Over there, over there.”

The two brave men, upon hearing this, dashed out the gate like arrows. However, after a while, they returned without incident. "There's nothing here. You must be mistaken," he said, gazing doubtfully at Kamiya's pale face.

“It’s not a mistake! It was definitely him! He might still be hiding in some alley around here! Why don’t we call the police right away?” “No need for that. Even if officers come, he won’t be caught. You know that from all our past experiences. Having police rush here would ruin everything. Just wait and see—I’ve got a plan.”

Akechi did not attempt to search any further and, saying something carefree, briskly went back inside the house. Kamiya reluctantly followed behind, but just as he was about to step up into the entrance, there came the clattering footsteps of people entering through the gate, and a large bundle was carried in.

“Mr. Akechi is over here, right? Please affix your seal here.”

A man who looked like a truck driver was shouting.

When he looked, outside the door, two men were carrying something large. It was something like a box. It was a long, narrow box-like object measuring about one ken (six feet) in length. It pushed open the door and slid smoothly into view.

Kamiya was startled and stood frozen.

It was the second coffin.

What had happened at his house that morning was being reproduced exactly as it had been. Am I dreaming or something? No, that wasn’t it. This wasn’t a dream.

Then, whose body would be inside that coffin this time? “Your wife—where is she? Where could your wife be?” Kamiya uttered these feverish words like a man delirious, his eyes darting restlessly about the room. “She’s upstairs,” Akechi replied indifferently. “She’ll come down presently.” With callous efficiency, Akechi stamped the driver’s delivery slip and directed them to carry the ominous burden into the parlor. “Are you certain? You know what’s in that box?”

Kamiya felt certain something dreadful was about to occur and couldn’t rest easy.

“Yes, I know very well. I’ll show you now.” Akechi remained perfectly composed. Something felt wrong. Was this man truly Detective Akechi? Could that beast have used some dark magic to transform into Akechi without anyone noticing? Otherwise, he’d never bring such a dreadful coffin into the house while grinning like that.

Once the drivers had left, Akechi meticulously lowered all the blinds in the reception room windows, drew the curtains over them to prevent any outside view, and began prying open the lid of the wooden box with a prepared crowbar. Creak, creak—with each nail loosening one by one under that unpleasant sound, one side of the lid began lifting. And through that gap, the shadowed interior of the box gradually came into view.

What on earth was inside that coffin, and how shocked Kamiya Yoshio was when he saw it. But that was not all he was shocked by.

That night, one bizarre event after another occurred at Akechi’s office. Kamiya stood as if bewitched by a fox, utterly dumbfounded, unable to do anything but stare at the strange play orchestrated by the famous detective.

Beastman vs. Beastman About an hour later, an empty automobile stopped in front of Akechi Detective Agency’s gate. From within the darkness beyond the gate, someone hurried over and was assisted wordlessly into the vehicle by the driver who had opened the door and stood waiting. The driver rushed back to his seat and flicked on the interior light. Illuminated by the dim glow was Mrs. Akechi Fumiyo in her familiar Western-style clothing. She huddled in the corner of the seat cushion as if hiding herself, sitting motionless with her head bowed for some reason.

In this perilous time, now past eight o'clock, what urgent matter had arisen for her? No matter how resolute a female detective she might be, wasn’t this a bit too reckless? The Human Leopard was still tenacious; it wasn’t impossible he was lying hidden somewhere in the surrounding darkness. If that monster were to notice her careless outing…

No, not "if"— She had already been fully noticed. The beast had indeed been lying in wait there. As soon as the car slid out soundlessly, a black wind-like entity—as if it had been lying in wait—darted forth and abruptly clung to the automobile's rear. Needless to say, it was him. Behind the receding automobile, two phosphorescent lights resembling will-o'-the-wisps were visible. [Note: Automobiles of that era were box-shaped, making it possible to cling to the rear.]

But how long could he possibly cling on like that? The car would undoubtedly soon emerge onto bright streets. It must pass in front of a police box as well. If that happened, Mrs. Fumiyo would escape harm. If only they would quickly reach the bright avenue.

But what on earth was happening? The car, almost spitefully—as if deliberately—chose one deserted town after another, gradually making its way toward the outskirts. The rear of the car came into full view, revealing the Human Leopard's grotesque face in the darkness, its dull black tongue lolling out as it grinned menacingly. They had already left the old city area and entered a desolate outskirts town. Between those cluttered towns loomed a vast forest-like expanse. Preserved perfectly intact was the sacred shrine forest from when this area had still been a village long ago.

To their utter astonishment, Mrs. Fumiyo’s automobile was charging headlong toward the darkness of that sacred shrine forest. As if it had perfectly fallen into the murderous fiend’s trap.

The car stopped in the open space before the shrine hall. Giant cedar and cypress trees surrounded them, shrouding the already dark night sky in even deeper darkness. Into that hair-raising silence, poor Mrs. Fumiyo was cast out like a human sacrifice from ancient folklore. Wait—isn't this all just a bit too convenient? But the beast, consumed by carnal lust, had no capacity for such doubts. Onda—disguised as a giant ape—landed on the ground and violently wrenched open the passenger door. With an unnatural growl, he lunged into the vehicle.

In the corner of the seat cushion, the beautiful Mrs. Fumiyo sat with her head still bowed. She would let out a startled cry. She would attempt to resist with her frail arms. Onda, burning with cruel anticipation, lunged to seize Mrs. Fumiyo—but she didn’t make a sound or even move. Had she fainted? But even so… Onda stretched out both hands and clasped Mrs. Fumiyo’s shoulders tightly—then, as if startled by something, let out a furious roar like “GYAAH!” In one swift motion, he snatched her body from the car, flung it spitefully onto the ground, and began stomping on it wildly.

That was not Mrs. Fumiyo. No—it wasn’t even a living woman. It was nothing more than a cold wax doll dressed in Mrs. Fumiyo’s clothing.

“Damn you! Damn you!” It was only natural that Onda, in his frenzy, stomped on what appeared to be Mrs. Fumiyo. Ah, so that was it. Inside the coffin-like wooden box delivered earlier to Akechi’s office lay not the corpse Kamiya had dreaded, but this mannequin doll. Akechi, who had vowed to “fight magic with magic,” must have anticipated this very scenario and ordered the mannequin during daylight hours. And that daring trick had worked perfectly. That a doll would ride in an automobile and venture out—no demon could have imagined such a thing.

“Hahaha... You’ve worked hard.” A black shadow stood behind Onda and suddenly spoke up. Even the monster appeared startled by this ambush; he braced himself and spun around. “You... You’re the driver.” “That’s right. I’m the driver who brought you all this way.” The shadow stood with arms crossed, utterly composed. “You... aren’t afraid of me?”

Onda growled menacingly in an unnaturally low voice, pressing closer. "Heh heh heh... You're the one who should be trembling." "Hey now, colleague—take a proper look at this face." "Who exactly do you suppose I am?"

The driver removed the soft cap he had been wearing low over his eyes and, with a flick, stuck his face out through the car window.

It was only natural that Onda shuddered violently.

There was another Onda. A gaunt blackened face; unkempt, tangled hair; crimson lips; beastly white fangs peeking between them; a crumpled black suit—another Human Leopard, identical in every way, emerged within the forest’s nocturnal darkness. The two beasts pressed their perfectly identical faces together under the faint glow of the car’s interior light; baring fangs and burning with hostility, they glared at each other.

On Onda’s face was an expression of shock—like a beast confronted with its own reflection in a mirror. The color of terror—as if he’d encountered a ghost or monster—was vividly discernible.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked in a frightened voice. “A brother of yours.” “Don’t talk nonsense! Who are you really?” “Go on, take a guess.”

Onda tried to calm himself and remained silent for a while, but suddenly his face twisted into a terrifying expression as he shouted. "You're wearing a disguise." "I get it now! I get it now! You're Akechi!" "You're Akechi Kogoro!" "Hahahaha, you finally figured it out." "Exactly as you've guessed." "The only one who could make you suffer like this is me." "Now then, what do you think of my disguise?" "No one would see any difference between us." "Do you think this could fool even your father's eyes?" "What do you say?"

“What? My old man?” “Yes, your father.” “Because merely catching you alone wouldn’t be enough.” “In fact, I plan to bundle up both father and son together and hand you over to the police.” “Just you alone?” When it came to brute strength, the Human Leopard had the power of ten men; in a one-on-one fight, he wouldn’t so much as twitch.

“No, it’s not necessarily me alone.” “So then… you’ve got allies lying in wait around here, huh?”

Suddenly, Onda’s countenance turned ferocious, and he abruptly spread both arms wide as if to leap at him. “No, you can’t do that. In the name of self-defense, I am resolved to shoot you dead. Hands up.”

Because Akechi’s movements were swift, the opponent had no chance to draw his prepared pistol. Even the beast had no choice but to comply as instructed, assuming a posture like that of a dog ordered to “stay.” However, even as he complied, he kept his eyes sharply alert, ready to pounce at the slightest opening. “Gentlemen, you may come out now. Quickly come and bind this man.”

At Akechi’s voice, four or five plainclothes officers burst forth from the dark shadows of the trees. “Onda, behave yourself.” One leading officer gave an old-fashioned shout as he grappled Onda from behind. The two policemen following him bound the Human Leopard with practiced rope-handling skill until he couldn’t move a muscle. “I’ll leave this one in your hands,” said Akechi as he holstered his pistol. “I still need to track down the other.”

Akechi quietly said as he put the pistol into his pocket. “Understood.” “The section chief will convey his thanks in due course.” “Well then, we’ll be on our way.”

As one plainclothes officer leaped into the driver’s seat, the idling engine began to roar. The remaining officers prodded the Human Leopard along and shoved him into the cramped vehicle.

The car quietly turned back along the road it had come from, passing before Akechi where he stood.

Labyrinth of Iron Pipes

Then, about an hour later, there was a figure prowling like a shadow along the pitch-dark road in front of the Akechi Detective Agency.

He avoided the eaves lights as if wary of human eyes，kept to the shadows of dark walls，muffled his footsteps，and paced back and forth within a fixed distance．He was a thin man wearing a black suit．When he inadvertently drew near an eaves light and one looked closely，he bore an uncanny resemblance to the grotesque face of that Human Leopard．Of course，it was undoubtedly Akechi in disguise．However，why was he prowling in front of his own home in such a suspicious manner？

"Hmm, could this have been my miscalculation? It should be about time for him to arrive by now... That old man—if his son doesn't return home, he'll grow unbearably anxious and surely come searching around here. I was certain this expectation wouldn't be wrong, but..." Akechi kept peering into the darkness while entertaining these thoughts. He had disguised himself as Onda and was lying in wait for Onda's father to come searching. The eccentric disguise he'd worn since departing had indeed been for this very purpose. Even between parent and child, in this pitch darkness, the old man wouldn't notice the ruse. Moreover, he possessed complete confidence in his mastery of disguise arts.

"Oh, seems there's a call coming into my place." Akechi suddenly strained his ears. That was definitely the sound of my home's telephone bell.

"Who could it be from? Since Fumiyo should have locked herself in the second-floor living room, Kobayashi must be answering the phone. I wonder if it’s some urgent business." He couldn’t just dash inside. At any moment, Onda's father might come. If I were caught trying to enter the house now, it would ruin everything. At that moment, his noticing the distant telephone bell ringing inside the mansion might have been some kind of premonition. For that very phone call would prove fatal to him. It was precisely because he couldn’t hear it that he was forced to commit an unforeseen blunder. But that is a story for later.

Persisting patiently and continuing to prowl through the darkness, he finally got a response. A barefoot beggar-like man wearing a tattered kimono emerged from the shadows. After staring intently at him for a moment, he suddenly strode briskly closer and thrust something like a scrap of paper into his hand. Return with this one. Something urgent has come up that I need to discuss.

When he brought the scrap of paper close to the eaves light, such things were written there in large pencil characters. The handwriting looked familiar. It must be Onda’s father. “No mistake, right? You’re the one called Onda, right?” The beggarlike man said emphatically. So, this guy didn’t know what Onda looked like. Even if one didn’t know him, Onda’s face had such distinctive features that there was no fear of mistaking him. He must have been told about those distinctive features. Akechi no longer had to be nervous.

“Yeah, no mistake here. But where’s my old man now? Is he at home?” “Dunno if it’s his place or where. I was asked in Shibaura.” Aha—so their hideout was near Shibaura.

“Well, Shibaura’s pretty far, isn’t it? Did you walk here?” “That’s right. ’Course I did. But my legs are faster’n any train, ’cause see.” “But I can’t do that. How about we splurge on a round taxi?” “I hate the likes of round taxis. But if you’re in such a bind, I ain’t against ridin’ along with ’em.” Even so, what a dreadful messenger old man Onda had sent. From the looks of it, it seemed they didn’t have any competent underlings around them now.

Akechi pulled his fedora low over his eyes to hide his face and hailed a one-yen taxi. He sat down in the car next to the beggar. The car followed the beggar’s directions and sped toward Shibaura. “The guy who asked you to deliver this letter—that’s my old man, right? Describe what he looks like.” Akechi pressed for confirmation. “Dunno why, but he’s this kindly old geezer who slips me pocket money now and then. Scrawny little guy with a face full of white whiskers and bulgin’ eyes.”

“Yeah, then there’s no mistake.” “So, is that person waiting for me in Shibaura?” “That’s right.” “He’s waitin’ in the iron pipe tenements.” “Iron pipe tenements?” “You don’t know about ’em?” “The old man comes ’round to the iron pipe tenements pretty often, see.” “Look at those water pipes scattered all over the place there.” “Me? I’ve been livin’ in those iron pipe tenements for ages now.”

It was common knowledge that homeless people made their dens in the large water pipes intended for the water supply. So did this mean that the Onda father and son were using the inside of those iron pipes as a temporary hiding place? While exchanging such talk, the car was entering the darkness of Shibaura.

“Where are we going? There’s no town beyond this point, you know.” Because the driver asked with a puzzled look, they decided to get out of the car there.

They got out of the car and wandered into the endless darkness. True to their experience, the homeless people briskly took the lead, walking ahead through the invisible path. As their eyes adjusted, the cloudy sky gradually began to appear faintly white. That hazy reflected light faintly brought the things on the ground into relief like an ink wash painting. “Here we are. I’ll go find the old man now.” When he focused his eyes in response to the homeless man’s words—good heavens, what an enormous procession of iron pipes this was! On the blackened ground, giant cylinders—distinctively jet-black in appearance—were packed tightly in endless rows, stretching as far as the eye could see into the distant horizon.

“Hey, old man! You here?” “Looks like he just got back.” When the homeless man shouted loudly, scolding voices immediately surged forth from all over the ground—cries of “Shut up!” and “Keep it down!” Inside the iron pipes that had seemed completely deserted, countless residents were taking their daily rest. It was undoubtedly disturbing their peaceful sleep. But the oblivious homeless man raised his voice loudly again. “Hey, old man! Ain’t you here?”

Then, from somewhere deep beneath the ground, faintly, faintly— “Hey!” A reply echoed through the darkness. “Seems he’s way deep inside,” said the homeless man. “Watch your head. Follow close behind me.” The guide crawled into one of the iron pipes. Akechi reluctantly dropped to all fours and crept after him. The cold smell of iron hung in the air.

After emerging from one long iron pipe, they immediately found the mouth of another gaping open. As they crawled through one after another, a truly troublesome situation occurred. Akechi had lost sight of the guide before he knew it. Because it was pitch-dark where nothing could be seen, he hadn’t merely lost sight of him—he could no longer sense his presence at all. “Hey, where are you?” Even when he called out in a small voice, only his own voice echoed through the iron pipes, with no reply coming. To make matters worse, he had forgotten to ask the beggar’s name. He couldn’t even call out if he wanted to—there was simply no way to do so. Even the renowned detective hadn’t realized that the iron pipe tenements were such a bizarre place.

When he strained his ears, the sound of snoring reached him from somewhere far away. It was not an uninhabited place. There were people here—there certainly were. However, he already lost all sense of direction. The iron pipes were not necessarily aligned parallel, so after crawling through one after another, he might as well have gotten lost in a maze. Before long, he emerged into a spot where there was a slightly wider gap between the mouths of the iron pipes, so Akechi stood on the ground there and nimbly poked his head up over the pipes. Then, to his astonishment, there was a sea of iron pipes stretching in all directions. Dark as it was, he could hardly tell which direction to take to reach the outside ground most quickly.

In any case, he made a random guess and scrambled out again, but after moving for a while, he somehow sensed the surroundings beginning to stir. Voices could be heard murmuring here and there. Wondering what was happening, he pricked up his ears and caught a slightly clearer voice. “Hey, they say the Human Leopard’s fled in here!”

“What’s this ‘Human Leopard’?” “Don’t you know? He’s that big villain everyone’s been talking about lately. He’s the terrifying beast that killed Egawa Ranko.” Such words reached his ears faint and broken. Akechi had not yet clearly grasped the terrifying implication of this.

"There’s no way something as absurd as the Human Leopard could be here," he thought. "Shouldn’t he have been properly apprehended by now?" He had carelessly been entertaining such notions. Before long, the commotion among the iron pipe dwellers seemed to grow increasingly louder. Shouts began reverberating from every direction.

“Hey everyone! Wake up! They say the Human Leopard’s fled in here!” “They say there’s a murderer in here!” Those voices echoed through the iron pipes, thundering with terrifying force. Akechi finally understood his terrifying predicament. "There’s no other Human Leopard." "I was the Human Leopard." "If there was anyone here who knew Onda’s appearance, I’d instantly be branded as the Human Leopard without a doubt."

It was truly indescribable perplexity. Even if he tried to suddenly wipe off his facial make-up, without oil or at least water, there was no way to do it. "This has turned into a real mess!" Now there was nothing left but to abandon his pursuit and flee. Moving cautiously away from the voices—further and further away—he crawled chaotically from iron pipe to iron pipe.

Then, he immediately collided with a dreadful obstacle.

“Ah! That hurts! Who’s there? Who is it?”

The man who collided with Akechi noticed his suspicious behavior and shouted at the top of his voice. “Hey, everyone! He’s here!” “The Human Leopard bastard’s here!”

Akechi fled in the opposite direction in great haste without saying a word. But that only served to worsen the situation even further. By fleeing, he unwittingly confirmed their conviction that he was undoubtedly the Human Leopard. “He ran away! Ran away!” “Yoshikō! He’s coming your way!” “Catch him!” Thus began the blind, reckless game of tag in the iron pipe maze. He ran and ran, drenched in sweat, fleeing in confusion. Akechi found himself in such an absurd predicament for the first time in his life. He felt he had come to thoroughly understand the feelings of the pursued.

He ran and ran, and when he suddenly noticed—ah, he was saved. He finally managed to escape the maze of iron pipes. There were no more obstacles before his eyes. A vast expanse of black open ground stretched before him. Relieved, the moment he clumsily crawled out of there—right at his ear— “Gyah!”

A shout erupted. He gasped and flinched, peering outside—only to realize his momentary relief was but a fleeting false hope. The homeless people had anticipated Akechi’s escape route in advance and, gathered in a single mass at that exit with weapons in hand, were lying in wait. Akechi instantly perceived the ominous presence and quickly pulled his head back, then began fleeing in the direction he had come from. But ahead, countless enemies were lying in wait. Each time he dashed through one iron pipe, he had to carefully choose which pipe to crawl into next.

"Hmm... This persistence from these homeless wretches is unnatural," Akechi thought as he rushed through the dark iron pipes. "There must be something behind this... Ah! Unless—" Mid-stride through the shadowy passageway, he abruptly realized what was happening.

Somehow, Old Man Onda might have uncovered Akechi’s true identity. Thus, while hiding himself, the old man might have been inciting the homeless to torment the detective instead. In that case, wasn’t the fact that Akechi was disguised as beast-man Onda a stroke of luck?

"Interesting. If that's how it is, why should I cower and let these wretches catch me?" Akechi's courage instead surged a hundredfold. He thought of using "magic against magic" to pull one over on them.

He stopped fleeing and crouched in the middle of the iron pipe. And he strained his ears toward the approaching footsteps from behind.

They were coming—closer and closer. Rough breathing echoed through the pipes. Knocks reverberated against the iron walls. The enemy seemed to number two or three. “Hey! He definitely came this way!” “Don’t sweat it—just keep goin’ straight!”

It was the sound of hissing whispers. The leading black shadow began lumbering forward. And when the distance had narrowed to about three feet, it suddenly noticed Akechi’s shadow and appeared to brace itself.

“Who’s there?!” It was a somewhat alarmed shout. Akechi remained silent. Remaining silent, he clenched his right fist and took aim at what appeared to be the center of his opponent’s chest.

“You’re not answering.” “So it’s you, bastard!” “Hey! Take him down!”

A black shadow came flying at him like the wind. Akechi’s poised fist struck his opponent’s chest with a sharp crack. He pinned down the falling opponent. “Hey! I’ve got him! “It’s definitely the Human Leopard.” “Lend me a hand.” “I’ll go round up the rest.” The one who had shouted, disguised as a homeless person, was none other than Akechi Kogoro himself. The one he was pinning down was the lead homeless man, dazed from a sudden counterblow. The two behind, unaware of this, responded to the voice and leaped upon their comrade. The two of them pinned him down.

“Alright, you take over here. Hurry up and call everyone over!” They didn’t need to be told. Akechi Kogoro stood up in the gap between the iron pipes and began shouting at the top of his voice. “Hey! I caught him! I caught the Human Leopard...” After slipping through two or three iron pipes, he stood in another gap and shouted in the same manner, then moved to the next gap while pretending to gather the others, gradually making his way toward the end of the row of pipes.

The homeless people, directed by Akechi’s voice in the darkness, hurried one after another toward the iron pipe where the capture had occurred. And by the time Akechi had quietly crawled out to the open space outside, there was no longer even a trace of the enemy left around. While Akechi hurried through the darkness toward the city, he intensely pondered the mysterious attack by the homeless people and the hidden meaning behind it.

Even if there had been someone among the homeless who knew Onda, they could never have recognized him in that darkness. Thus, those aware that Akechi—disguised as the Human Leopard—had slipped into the iron pipes were limited to two individuals: the simpleton of a homeless man who had guided him there, and Onda’s father who had written him the letter. But whether it was Onda’s father or that simpleton of a homeless man, neither had any reason to expose their ally’s secret. There was no motive for them to incite the homeless to attack him.

What struck him as strange was that despite having summoned his own son, Onda’s father had not shown himself at all. Not only that—even when his child was under attack and found himself in such dire straits, there had been no indication whatsoever that he intended to come to the rescue. For someone of Akechi’s caliber, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Old Man Onda had somehow outmaneuvered him. This peculiar sensation surely held some deeper significance.

If Old Man Onda had noticed Akechi’s disguise… if he had realized that the one who had come in response to the summons was not his own son, but a detective disguised as his son…

That’s it. That must be it. If he considered it that way, all the mysteries would unravel. To think that he knew it was a disguise, yet presented me as the genuine murderer Onda before those justice-driven homeless people—what an ironic means of revenge this was! While Akechi had thought he was outmaneuvering the enemy, had he in fact been outmaneuvered by them? Wasn’t this exactly the kind of "magic" that suspicious old man would devise?

Wait—no. There was still something that didn’t quite make sense. How could an old man he’d never met have seen through Akechi’s disguise? Then perhaps that simpleton-like homeless man was the traitor… No, that couldn’t be. After sitting shoulder to shoulder with him in the automobile for so long, Akechi wasn’t foolish enough to have missed such deception.

As he crossed the dark open space while turning over possibilities in his mind, a terrible thought suddenly flashed through Akechi’s head like a spark.

“Ah! So that’s how it was!”

Akechi received such a severe shock that he involuntarily let out a sound and muttered.

“Then... then... Ah! I’ve done something terrible.” "But what devilish cunning!"

Even the famous detective could not help but shudder at a certain terrifying vision.

"It might already be too late. But even if it’s too late, I must try everything I can." He abruptly started running through the darkness, stumbling over the rocky path as if flying. He began racing toward the city like a gunshot.

When he crossed the wide concrete bridge, houses already stood there. Soon came streetcar tracks lying like ruins in the late-night darkness. At that four-way intersection stood an isolated public telephone booth. He tore open its door as if ripping it off, entered the box, and while fumbling through his pocket for coins, suddenly grabbed the receiver.

A twist within a twist Meanwhile, at the Akechi Detective Agency, after Akechi had disguised himself as the Human Leopard and departed by car with Mrs. Fumiyo's decoy doll, the client Kamiya Yoshio too first withdrew to his home, leaving behind only Mrs. Fumiyo, assistant Kobayashi, and the maid - three people in total.

Mrs. Fumiyo had ordered Kobayashi to thoroughly lock all the doors and shutters, then shut herself in the second-floor bedroom, locking it from the inside as a precaution. On the small table by the bed lay a loaded pistol. It was an unnervingly tense, interminably long night. Would her husband's daring plan succeed? Could it possibly fail? Were they being too ambitious, trying to capture not just Onda but even his father all in one night? Though Mrs. Fumiyo trusted completely in Akechi's capabilities, she couldn't suppress her anxiety.

Around ten o'clock at night, there came a phone call from Akechi while he was out. When Kobayashi, the boy assistant, answered, he said: "Rest assured—we've successfully captured Onda." "I'm now heading out to search for his father." "I might be a little late," he informed him. The voice on the phone was very distant and so low it was hard to make out, but Kobayashi relayed it to Mrs. Fumiyo upstairs without suspecting a thing. However, as the reader knows, at the very moment that telephone bell rang, Akechi Kogoro—disguised as the Human Leopard—was pacing back and forth along the dark street right in front of his office. Needless to say, that had been a fake phone call. But who would do such a prank, and for what purpose? What terrifying meaning lay concealed within this mischief?

Be that as it may, when about another hour had passed, the front doorbell rang out shrilly. There shouldn’t be any visitors at this late hour. When he thought his teacher must have returned, the boy Kobayashi flew to the entrance and threw open the door.

The one standing there was indeed Detective Akechi. But what a grotesque figure this was! There he stood, unchanged from when he had departed—the grotesque man-beast makeup: a gaunt face smeared with ashen pigment and shadowed contours, crimson lips, and a terrifying mouth filled with fang-like dentures. Adding to his bizarre appearance, a Western-clad woman hung limply under his arm. When Kobayashi saw this, he gasped and instinctively recoiled, but upon closer consideration, it turned out to be nothing of consequence. What Akechi carried was no living human. It was merely a mannequin used as bait to capture Onda.

“Welcome back.”

Kobayashi the boy courteously welcomed his master.

“Please put this doll back into its original wooden box.” “The doll shop will come to pick it up later.” After handing the doll to Kobayashi, Akechi took off his shoes and went upstairs.

The wooden box for the doll was placed at the end of the dark corridor. Kobayashi, clumsily carrying the mannequin toward the wooden box at the end of the corridor, had his retreating figure intently watched by Akechi for some reason. Then, no sooner had Akechi briskly followed after him and made a motion as if to embrace the boy from behind than he opened the door there and entered the maid’s room.

For what purpose on earth had the detective pulled such a stunt? It was truly strange, but after a while, he left the maid’s room alone and went up to their bedroom.

“Oh, welcome back.”

On the stairs, he suddenly came face-to-face with Mrs. Fumiyo. Because she noticed signs of her husband’s return, she opened the bedroom where she had been secluded and was now about to go downstairs to greet him. Akechi answered “Ah” and led the way into the bedroom. “Isn’t Kobayashi here either?” Mrs. Fumiyo asked with a puzzled look. “No, I gave Kobayashi a small task.” “Just come here.”

Due to the disguise dentures, Akechi’s voice sounded like that of a completely different person. “I can’t bear it like this—in such a terrifying guise. You should wash your face quickly.” “No, this isn’t the time for that. Anyway, come into the room. I have something to discuss with you.” And the two of them entered the bedroom. Though called a bedroom, as it also served as Mrs. Fumiyo’s living room, the space was divided by a curtain—on one side stood a bed, while the other side held a desk, table, vanity mirror, and several chairs arranged in orderly rows. The desk lamp cast a dim glow over it.

“No, leave it as it is. “It’s better if it’s dark.” When Mrs. Fumiyo pressed the wall switch to turn on the ceiling light, Akechi stopped her for some reason and settled into a large armchair. Mrs. Fumiyo sat down on a small chair facing it. “You must be exhausted.” “But the Human Leopard decoy worked perfectly, didn’t it?” Mrs. Fumiyo said, as if praising the bold stratagem. “Yeah, when I jumped down from the driver’s seat and appeared before that bastard, it was truly exhilarating.” “There were two perfect copies of the Human Leopard staring each other down, you see.”

Akechi grinned slyly with his grotesque Human Leopard face in the shade of the lampshade. "He must have been shocked."

“Yeah, he made a miserable face.” “Plus, with my pistol trained on him, the guy couldn’t move a muscle.” “I gave the signal right then and there and handed him over to the detectives lying in wait, but…” “Then he must be groaning away in the police headquarters’ basement by now.”

“Do you think so?”

Akechi spoke in a strange manner. "But that’s the only way it could—" "Heh heh heh… But that’s not how it went." "What I want to tell you is precisely that." "Actually, Onda escaped."

“Oh…”

Mrs. Fumiyo’s beautiful face stared at the speaker in wide-eyed shock. “Onda was bound hand and foot, guarded by five detectives, and was about to be taken to police headquarters in that car.” “However, the police bindings proved at least a bit too weak for the Human Leopard.” “When Onda put all his strength into both arms and strained with a grunt, the ropes snapped clean through.” “That was when the car approached a desolate spot beside the reservoir.” “The detectives—as you’d expect—were startled and lunged at him with shouts of ‘Ah!’, but against the freed Human Leopard, five or six men stood no chance at all.” “Moreover—tragically—those detectives carried no firearms.” “So they had a terrible time of it and were thrown from the car, every last one of them.”

“So Onda drove that car and escaped, then?” “That’s right. He got away feeling quite pleased with himself, I assure you.” “But where were you during all this?” “Me? That would be Akechi Kogoro. After delivering Onda to the detectives in the woods, I went off to hunt down his father—simple as that.”

Mrs. Fumiyo made a strange face and stared intently at the speaker. Even accounting for the dentures, she couldn’t help feeling tonight’s Akechi seemed like an utter stranger. And what explained this peculiar way of speaking? “In other words, Akechi Kogoro”—he had used such affected phrasing, unlike his usual speech. “Now then, regarding Onda’s whereabouts...” Akechi grew unusually verbose. “He drove that automobile straight to Shibaura.” “The scheme was for Onda’s father to lie in wait at Shibaura’s water pipe storage yard.” “After conferring together, parent and child dispatched a homeless man bearing a letter to Akechi’s—that is, my residence...”

“Oh… Then you’re…”

“I was loitering in front of this house at the time. If I’d stayed put, I figured Onda’s father would come looking—you see, I’d disguised myself as Onda and was acting as his decoy. But here’s the strange part—Onda had known about this strategy all along. When they captured him, I’d inadvertently let it slip.”

“…………”

Mrs. Fumiyo could no longer utter a word of agreement. Some indescribable terror seemed to creep up her spine, rendering her completely immobile. "So, guided by the homeless people, I headed out to the Shibaura reclamation site." "That Akechi fellow has probably been captured by the homeless people inside those iron pipes by now." "Because, you see, there are twenty or thirty homeless people there using those iron pipes as their nest." "If that fellow finds the Human Leopard, they won’t let him off easy, you know."

The speaker once again abruptly thrust out his grotesque face and laughed with an eerie ufufufu.

“It’s… Who…?” “You—who ARE YOU?”

Mrs. Fumiyo turned deathly pale and stared fixedly at this bizarre figure. There was no need to ask who it was. If this wasn’t Akechi himself, then it could only be that other one. It could only be the Human Leopard Onda. “Hff hff... It’s no one—I’m your husband,” he said brazenly as he slowly rose to his feet and approached Mrs. Fumiyo. “I’m your dear husband.” Oh, why hadn’t she noticed it until now? If this were Akechi’s disguise, his eyes wouldn’t be glowing like this. The monster’s eyes were burning as if they were blue flames! As his lust grew, those flames burned ever more fiercely!

Mrs. Fumiyo, her body gone numb, mustered the last of her strength and abruptly stood up; ducking under the demon’s hand, she rushed out into the corridor.

“Kobayashiii! Someone, quick—come here…!”

But strangely enough, the house was deathly quiet, and no one answered. “Kobayashi?” “Ah, that lad?” “They’re in the maid’s room.” “I’ll take you there.”

The monster swiftly pursued Mrs. Fumiyo and, holding her tightly with terrifying strength, forcibly descended the stairs.

“Now, look here. Kobayashi and the maid—they’re in that state. They’re sleeping soundly, you see.”

He opened the maid's room door and made Mrs. Fumiyo peer inside. As she looked, just as he had said, the two of them lay stretched out unconscious on the floor. Of course, it was the effect of the demon's anesthetic.

Mrs. Fumiyo tried to scream. She tried to call for help from the neighbors. But before she knew it, she had gone mute. The monster’s palm clamped tightly over her nose and mouth, leaving her unable to breathe as she wished. “Now now—no need for such struggling.” “There’s a good girl.” “I’ll make things comfortable for you soon.” Onda kept Mrs. Fumiyo restrained, manipulating her as freely as one handles a doll.

“You’re going to become a little doll.” “Look, there’s just the right doll box here.” “This time, you’re going to be the doll’s substitute inside here.” “Then I’ll give the signal from the second-floor window.” “Following that signal, the deliveryman will come collect this box.” “The deliveryman—in other words, he’s one of my henchmen.” “Then we’ll use a truck—well now, where do you think we’ll take it? Go ahead and guess.”

Onda was now ecstatic and chattered away. He was engrossed in the joy of having obtained his prize and the brilliance of how he had acquired it. He would repurpose—exactly as they were—the elaborate mechanisms his archenemy Detective Akechi had painstakingly devised. Akechi’s disguise, the mannequin doll, even that wooden box—all of them. What a splendid means of revenge this was. Mrs. Fumiyo was not a woman so weak as to faint. All the more reason why this insult struck her heart with doubled ferocity. She couldn’t stop her body from trembling violently under waves of indescribable disgust.

The beast’s stench, the beast’s panting breath, the beast’s sinewy strength. She sensed the true leopard within him. The beast’s face was right above hers. The blazing phosphorescent eyes, the slimy red lips, the razor-sharp fangs peering out from between them—all were magnified to a terrifying degree, looming just inches away. She saw those red lips part like a tunnel, gaping wide. Then, from the dark tunnel-like maw, an enormous tongue flicked out. Oh, that tongue! She saw it with horrifying clarity. The surface of that dusky black tongue was densely covered with sharp protrusions like a mountain of needles, and as the tongue moved, they swayed like reeds rustling in the wind with a swish-swish.

Black thread. In the dim corner of the corridor sat a large wooden box resembling a coffin. It was the very life-sized doll’s box that Akechi had purchased to deceive Onda. Inside it now lay not a doll, but the beautiful Mrs. Fumiyo, rendered unconscious by the anesthetic.

The Human Leopard slowly lowered the wooden box’s lid from above while licking his lips and muttered as if to himself. “Ufufu… Like this, you look exactly like a doll.” “You beautiful doll!” “It’ll be a bit cramped, but you’ll have to endure it for a while.” “Once you get to my place, I’ll take good care of you like a princess. Ufufufufu.”

Then, with a clatter, he closed the lid, gathered the rope that had been scattered beside the box, and wound it around and around over the top. All that remained was to call in the two henchmen waiting in the darkness outside and have them carry out the doll box.

Onda started walking toward the entrance to signal his henchmen but abruptly halted before taking two or three steps. A shrill telephone bell was resounding through the house like an empty shell. He instinctively braced himself and listened intently for a moment, but upon realizing it was the telephone, he tsked in annoyance and started to walk away. But soon, a cunning smile rose to the Human Leopard’s grotesque face. His phosphorescent eyes narrowed into slits like threads, and as his crimson lips peeled back with a snarl, white double teeth—fanged in appearance—glimpsed furtively from their corners.

With that grotesque expression still on his face, he snapped around and strode briskly into the study. Then, grasping the desk telephone there, he abruptly removed the receiver and pressed it against his thin earlobe, which twitched like a beast’s. “Hello? Hello? It’s me! It’s me! Who are you? Is that you, Kobayashi-kun?”

Both the voice and the manner of speech left no doubt that the caller was Akechi Kogoro. Upon realizing this, Onda’s eyes narrowed further and further, as though savoring some delightful melody.

“Hello? “Is that not you, Kobayashi-kun? “It’s urgent business. “What are you dawdling for? “Or is that not the Akechi Detective Agency there?”

Akechi Kogoro’s growing impatience could almost be seen in his eyes. “Hello? That’s correct.” “This is the Akechi Detective Agency.” “However, Kobayashi-kun is a bit tied up at the moment.”

Onda answered in a fabricated voice. He wore an expression of unbearable delight. “If you’re not Kobayashi, then who on earth are you——?”

“Me? Oh, you know who I am… You know me very well.” “(Who are you? Is there no one from my agency there?)” Even the great Akechi showed no sign of realizing the person on the other end of the line was none other than the Human Leopard.

“However, there’s no one here at all.” “Wh-What did you say? You’re saying there’s no one there this late at night?”

“That’s correct. Kobayashi-kun is in the kitchen, you see—fast asleep alongside the maid. No matter how much you try to rouse him, he won’t stir. And your wife has crawled into the doll box and refuses to come out, you know.”

As if struck dumb with terror, Akechi’s voice fell silent for a moment.

“Hello? Did something happen to you?” “You are Detective Akechi, I presume?” Onda stuck out his dusky black tongue and slobberingly licked his lips all around. It was the beast-man at the height of his triumph. “Hahahaha… So you’re Onda-kun.” “I thought it was someone else.” “If it’s you, Onda-kun, that’s all the better.” “And how about you—is your work proceeding smoothly, I suppose?” Suddenly, Akechi’s voice turned cheerful. “Impressive! “You truly are the great Detective Akechi.” “You don’t even flinch.” “By the way, do you know how I—the one you captured earlier—came to be here?”

(The detectives escorting him had messed up. Japanese police aren’t accustomed to capturing wild beasts, you see. Thanks to that, I nearly had a close call. You seem quite clever—or is it your old man?) “Ufufufu… You’ve completely seen through our little scheme in that split second. Impressive. But you’ve managed to stay alive all this time—didn’t you have a rough time over in Shibaura?” (The one who had it rough was some homeless guy. I merely observed that. Ha ha ha ha ha.)

“So, you also managed to escape successfully, hm? It’s a relief we’ve both come through unscathed, isn’t it? Uf, uf, uf, uf.” And so, this peerless murderer and the renowned detective laughed in unison over the telephone line, as though amused by some grand joke. “The fact that you’re calling means you’re far away. Near Shibaura, I suppose.” The Human Leopard twisted his slimy red lips into a malicious sneer and mocked in an eerie tone.

(That's right. That's the Shibaura public phone.) “Hm-hm-hm… I’m truly enjoying this, Detective… You’re getting all worked up now, your forehead dripping with oily sweat.” “I can practically see it… Even if you grab a one-yen cab there and rush like mad, it’d still take twenty minutes to reach here.” “Or maybe you’ll call the police?” “But even if those cops panic and floor their beat-up car, it’d take ten minutes to get here from there.” “Meanwhile, me? I can clear out of your empty house in thirty seconds flat.” “After all, I’ve already wrapped up everything here.”

(......)

“As I mentioned earlier, your employees—that punk detective Kobayashi and the maid—are sleeping soundly together on the kitchen floor, and your wife is, well, in that doll box we discussed, resting peacefully inside it.” “Outside, my truck stands ready.” “We’ll load up Fumiyo-san crated in that box and make our exit—that’s the scheme.” “I do feel rather sorry for you, but tonight marks your eternal farewell to that beautiful wife of yours.”

(You seem to underestimate my capabilities as a detective.) Akechi’s voice remained utterly composed, betraying not a trace of agitation.

“Yeah, I do look down on you. For a detective to have your precious wife stolen—I think it’s perfectly fair to look down on you.” (But that’s something you could never do. You’re dreaming. You don’t realize my true power at all.)

There was something in the voice over the phone that radiated conviction and authority—a quality in its tone that seemed to startle Onda. “Ufufufufufu, still making excuses for your defeat, aren’t you?” he sneered. “All that howling won’t help one bit.” (Hey, you. Do you know why I’ve kept up this idle chatter so long? …Notice how unnervingly calm I am? Hardly like a man about to lose his wife… Aren’t you frightened? You’ll never guess what I’m plotting now.)

“Damn you! So that’s it—you rigged something before calling here, didn’t you?” “The police?” “Have you already called the police?” (Ha ha ha ha… How about that—getting a little scared now, are you?) It might be the police. It might be something else entirely. In any case, you’ve fallen into my final trap. Ha ha ha ha ha, you seem quite concerned, aren’t you? (I can hear your breathing all the way here.) “Shut up, shut up. “I’m not some fool who’ll fall for your cheap threats!”

(Now listen. There's no use getting angry. While I've been chatting so pleasantly with you like this, it's practically the same as having already pinpointed the lair of you and your father. Black threads—invisible black threads—are clinging to your body like a spider's web and won't let go. No matter how far you go—wherever you go—those threads will follow and connect.)

Onda made a strange face and instinctively glanced around his surroundings. He began feeling assailed by an uncannily eerie sensation—as though an actual spider’s thread were silently descending from some corner of the ceiling to coil around his body. “I don’t have time to listen to your drivel anymore. See ya. I’ve indeed claimed your wife.” (Now wait— Ha ha ha ha, no need to panic so much. Ha ha ha ha, I still have things to say. Plenty more to discuss. Ha ha ha ha.)

Even after he slammed down the receiver, the detective’s eerie laughter clung to his ears, refusing to fade away. He shuddered violently once, as though shaking off unseen demons, and stood up. “Hmph, do you think I’m scared of the likes of ghost stories?”

His sharp eyes began emitting an intense phosphorescent light. He exited into the hallway with a beast-like gait. Then, immediately, he perceived something like a small shadow swiftly disappearing down the far end of the hallway. Only a single light was attached near the bent entrance, leaving that area terribly dim, but through that gloom passed something of an unknowable shape, like a street assailant.

It seemed almost human. Yet at the same time, it also seemed not to be. It might have been a shadow figure. Thinking that someone had passed under the entrance light and cast a shadow, he hurriedly peered around the corner, but there was no sign of anyone. It felt as though something like a large bat had flown away just barely above the hallway floor.

Onda could not help but panic. It wasn't that he feared ghost stories. He sensed imminent danger. That shadowy figure felt like an omen of approaching disaster. The police might already have surrounded this house. Their presence might have cast shadows even in the hallway. With the silent grace of a stalking leopard, he leapt down to the earthen entranceway, cautiously cracked open the door, and swept his phosphorescent blue eyes across the outer darkness. Yet to his relief, neither the garden shrubs nor the road beyond the gate showed any trace of suspicious movement. He then blew two short, low notes on his signal whistle.

Before long, two black figures shuffled in from the direction of the gate. They appeared to be laborers from a transport company.

“Is everything clear out front? No one spotted anything, right?” Onda whispered hoarsely. “Not even a stray kitten’s passed by. Damn gloomy town, this. Even for midnight, this kinda bleakness ain’t normal,” grunted one laborer. “Hey,” the other rasped conspiratorially, “let’s mention that thing while we’re at it.”

A man whispered something meaningfully. "It's at it again." "Even though I told you it's your imagination, you cowardly bastard!" "Hey! What're you muttering about? Did something happen?"

When Onda snapped, the man who had been called a coward glanced around nervously into the surrounding darkness and reported something strange. “It looked like some small shadowy thing was lurking around the truck.” “It was such a tiny little thing.” “Like a shadow from Lilliput—this creepy, spine-chilling thing that was downright unpleasant.” “Boss, don’t you go worryin’ ’bout that.” “This bastard’s really off his rocker tonight.” “Instead of that, let’s just hurry up and get this cargo moved out!”

These two men, who appeared to be laborers, were actually ex-convict drivers; though they likely knew this involved some criminal undertaking, they had been blinded by the enormous reward money and hired as Onda’s henchmen for just one night.

“Right, hurry up. The cargo’s in this hallway. It’s a hefty piece.” Onda led the way to the doll box. “This here. Don’t manhandle it—valuable goods.” “Whoa now, looks just like a coffin, don’t it?” “Doll box. Got a precious doll inside. Now move it—fast!”

While the two men were lifting the wooden box, Onda quietly opened the kitchen door and peered inside. There was nothing out of place. Kobayashi Shonen and the maid lay completely limp in the same state as before, fast asleep. The mannequin resembling Ms. Fumiyo that Kobayashi Shonen had brought lay rolled under the cooking counter, its torso folded double with its head thrust underneath. Having verified this, he exited through the gate while monitoring the two men transporting the doll box. In the darkness beyond sat a truck with its headlights extinguished. Once they finished loading the cargo, the two men climbed into the driver’s compartment. Onda crouched inside an uncovered crate alongside the doll box. The engine’s roar shattered the midnight stillness of the mansion district—and in moments, this grotesque kidnapping vehicle sped away from Akechi Detective Agency’s gatefront.

In the end，nothing happened after all.The police officers did not make it in time.The only thing that was slightly concerning was that mysterious shadowy figure said to have wandered the hallway and lurked around the truck，but now that the vehicle had driven off，it amounted to nothing.He meticulously checked around the truck，wondering if perhaps that shadowy figure was lurking nearby，but of course，nothing was discovered.Onda finally felt relieved.Finally，I’ve won！The beautiful Fumiyo-san has completely become mine.

He leaned against the beloved doll box on the swaying truck, narrowed his leopard-like eyes, slackly opened his leopard-like mouth, and laughed a chilling, bestial laugh. Then—could it be that Akechi’s earlier phone call had been nothing more than a bluff? Had the great detective degraded into a mere spinner of ghost stories? No, no—that was not the case. Proof existed otherwise. Earlier, Akechi had spoken of the "black thread." He had declared that this "black thread" had entangled itself around Onda and would never let go. Look! Wasn’t that very black thread now trailing a faint line from the rear of Onda’s truck onto the dark road below? From beneath the red taillight—wasn’t there something like a spider’s thread being ceaselessly reeled out onto the ground?

However, Onda on the truck naturally knew nothing of this. Even if he had gotten out of the car and looked at that spot, not even leopard-like eyes could have discerned that single faint thread of a spider’s web in the pitch-black night—so tenuous it might as well not exist. It was a thread so thin, so black, somehow indistinct, eerie, and bewitching. The devil’s truck, choosing as deserted residential streets as possible, departed north and north through midnight Tokyo.

Let us become invisible eyes for a time—flying through the dark sky while keeping a prudent distance—and follow the trail of this phantom truck. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes—the truck continued onward without incident. Onda remained leaning against the doll box, motionless like a single black mass. Even late at night, there were still occasional passersby. But they showed no suspicion toward this truck that appeared utterly ordinary at first glance. Though they passed numerous police boxes with their red lanterns, the officers remained oblivious to the terrifying murder vehicle rolling right before their eyes, all turning a blind eye. Before long, when the truck was running along the desolate moat’s edge near Kudan, our invisible eyes witnessed a truly horrifying incident on the vehicle ahead.

Onda’s black figure crouched on the truck bed and began moving his hands busily. What on earth was he doing? Let us bring our eyes a little closer. Adjusting our distance from the truck to about three ken (5.4 meters)... Then, ah, we understood. He could no longer wait. He grew desperate to see his lover inside the box. He undid the ropes binding the doll box. He opened the lid and peered inside. He peered inside for a long time.

Oh, what was he trying to do? The Human Leopard had not merely lifted the unconscious Ms. Fumiyo from the box. He stood up effortlessly, tucking her under his arm. Against the truck racing like an arrow, two figures materialized in stark contrast—the Human Leopard’s formidable black silhouette standing astride the vehicle, and Ms. Fumiyo’s pallid form hanging limp around his waist.

Then, in an instant, something truly horrifying occurred. Had the beast revealed its savage nature? Or had he gone mad? It felt as though Ms. Fumiyo’s neck had stretched out like taffy. The same monstrous strength that had once torn apart a fierce dog’s jaws on that fateful night now wrenched her head from her neck.

It was a bizarre illusion or a nightmare-like spectacle. In the blink of an eye, a white meteor flew through the dark sky, tracing an arc. Onda suddenly hurled the torn-off head out of the vehicle like a demonic ball toss from the land of nightmares.

The beast was foaming at the mouth and raging furiously. A monstrous roar could now be heard. He would not rest until he tore his prey to shreds. After the neck came the hands and legs—torn off one after another with unimaginable cruelty. And those beautiful dismembered corpses were thrown away insensitively, brazenly—no, rather ostentatiously—into the dark moat's edge as if they were daikon radishes or something.

Famed Detective Dog Sherlock

Inspector Tsunekawa of the Metropolitan Police Department’s First Investigative Division had just been jolted awake from his first moments of sleep. He had returned from work, played with his son, done some reading, and only just gone to bed moments earlier. The one who had roused him was Akechi Kogoro. After bursting out of a Shibaura public phone booth and hailing a taxi to rush home, Akechi had stormed into Tsunekawa’s residence along the way to request help in apprehending the Human Leopard. Naturally, Tsunekawa kicked off his bedding and sprang up. After hearing full details from this private detective—both his professional rival and close friend (he knew about Akechi’s plans for tonight and thus showed no surprise at his grotesque “Human Leopard” disguise)—he immediately phoned headquarters, selected his sharpest detectives, ordered them to rush to the Akechi Detective Agency, swiftly donned his uniform, and boarded Akechi’s taxi without delay.

“Ah, wait a moment, would you? Let’s take your Sherlock along too. I absolutely need that one!”

Akechi stopped the departing car and shouted. “Good. You, bring Sherlock here.” Inspector Tsunekawa complied with Akechi’s request without a single word of objection. If this great detective said it was necessary, then necessary it must be. Before long, Mrs. Tsunekawa herself led out a Shepherd and placed it in the car. The renowned detective dog Sherlock remained utterly calm; with an expression tensed by some premonition, he crouched between his master Inspector Tsunekawa’s knees. Sherlock had been born with a keen sense of smell and, through Mr. Tsunekawa’s training, had been refined into a detective dog worthy of his name. He had assisted the inspector and achieved distinguished service not once or twice before.

“Do you have some lead?” “Taking Sherlock along of all things...”

When the car started moving, Inspector Tsunekawa finally asked about it.

“Hmm, whether this dog proves useful or not will determine my fate. If Sherlock proves useless... ah, the very thought terrifies me.”

Akechi showed signs of indescribable anxiety and seemed unable to endure the unease.

“As I just mentioned, I talked big to him over the phone, but I didn’t have any firm conviction. It’s just one flimsy hope I’m clinging to. Ah, if only that had worked out…”

“Who do you mean by ‘that’? Are you suggesting you’ve planted some hidden troops?”

Inspector Tsunekawa, unable to comprehend his interlocutor's meaning, inquired once more.

“Ah, three minutes… no, even two minutes would do. If only that guy’s breath would last at least two minutes… Hey, Tsunekawa—do you think a person’s breath can last more than two minutes?” “You’re saying some strange things now. That’s just like you. There are people who can last about two minutes. Ama divers might last twice that long. But for ordinary city folk, it’s completely impossible. Thirty seconds isn’t even certain.” “That’s precisely where I’ve placed my bet. What if there were someone among those urbanites who could hold their breath for two full minutes? In certain situations, that could prove extremely useful, mightn’t it?”

“Do you know such a man?” “Yeah, I know him. “I do know him.”

After that, the famous detective fell completely silent. Inspector Tsunekawa, familiar with his counterpart’s tendencies, did not press further.

Before long, the two abandoned their car at the gate of the Akechi Detective Agency and entered the eerily deserted interior as if it were an abandoned house. “That Sherlock’s really worked up, I tell you. He really can sense the scent of crime, can’t he?”

While saying such things, Inspector Tsunekawa tied his beloved dog to the entrance pillar and removed his shoes. Akechi had Inspector Tsunekawa wait downstairs while he checked every room on the second floor, only to return empty-handed; but during that time, the inspector had employed his famed sixth sense and slipped stealthily into the kitchen at the hallway's end. When he cracked the door ajar and peered inside, there they lay—Kobayashi Shonen, the maid, and even a mannequin doll—all collapsed in peculiar poses.

“Hey, you! Here! Over here!”

At Inspector Tsunekawa’s voice, Akechi also entered the kitchen. “Oh, you! You! Isn’t that your wife over there? Your wife wasn’t kidnapped at all, I tell you!”

He pointed at the mannequin doll with its head thrust under the kitchen counter and was convinced it was Mrs. Fumiyo. But Akechi was in no state to pay attention to that. He crouched over the fallen Kobayashi Shonen and stared intently at his face. He stared without blinking, as if concentrating with all his might. Then, whether Akechi’s mental focus had taken effect or not, the boy’s eyes opened into narrow slits. The narrow eyes veiled by long lashes and Akechi’s eyes gazed at each other as if probing one another. Under normal circumstances, it shouldn’t have taken such effort—he should have recognized him at a glance. But, as the reader knows, at this time Akechi had not yet washed off the Human Leopard’s makeup.

“Ah, Sensei!” He finally understood. Kobayashi Shonen exclaimed as he sprang abruptly to his feet. Well now—could someone who had been unconscious until moments ago suddenly perform such vigorous movements?

When he saw that, a look of joy flashed across the famous detective’s cheeks, which had been clouded with anxiety.

“Oh, Kobayashi, well done! Well done!”

Akechi Kogoro rushed over to the boy who had stood up and, as if overcome with gratitude, embraced his shoulders and grasped his hand. “This looks exactly like a parent-child reunion scene. What on earth is going on here?” Inspector Tsunekawa stared in blank amazement as he asked.

“No, my prediction hit the mark. I never told a lie. You can rejoice—Fumiyo is safe now. The prospect of capturing Onda has materialized, and Sherlock’s efforts weren’t wasted.”

Akechi was intoxicated with victory. “That’s wonderful news!” “But you’ve known your wife was safe all along, haven’t you?” “She hasn’t actually been killed… has she?”

Inspector Tsunekawa pointed impatiently at the mannequin doll. “However, I had convinced myself that was a doll.” “You may have heard this already, but tonight I used a substitute doll for Fumiyo.” “From the kimono down to every detail, it’s an exact replica.” “I could only assume that one was lying there.” “Because you see—it was the real Fumiyo whom Onda placed into the doll box and took away.” “But given Kobayashi’s current state, that clearly isn’t a doll.” “Don’t you agree?”

When he looked back at the boy, he was grinning and nodding vigorously with exaggerated motions. Hmm, if that's the case, things aren't adding up. Onda did put Mrs. Fumiyo into the doll box, didn't he? Didn't he load that onto a truck and take it away? Moreover, didn't he subject Mrs. Fumiyo to that gruesome fate at the Kudanzaka moat? Mrs. Fumiyo had already met her end with her body dismembered. That she's now lying asleep in Akechi's kitchen—it's as bewildering as being tricked by a fox, isn't it?

But what lay there was no doll after all. She was indisputably the real Mrs. Fumiyo. Though still unconscious, one needed neither to pull her face from beneath the kitchen counter nor conduct further examination—a mere touch would instantly reveal this was no mannequin. Inspector Tsunekawa and Akechi lifted her limp form and carried her to the study sofa. They then deposited the plump maid onto the armchair's soft cushion.

Immediately, a doctor was summoned by telephone. But Mrs. Fumiyo was simply asleep from the anesthetic. There was no particular cause for worry. Yet something far more critical demanded attention now. The Human Leopard had to be captured. “Mr. Akechi, I still can’t quite grasp the situation—was this Kobayashi’s work?” “Even so…”

“That’s right. This young detective’s brilliant work. In other words, Kobayashi faithfully followed my usual instructions.” “So, Kobayashi, are you saying you took advantage of Onda’s moment of weakness and switched Mrs. Fumiyo—who’d been put in the box—back with the original doll?” “Yes, that’s correct. But if Mr. Akechi hadn’t kept Onda on the phone that long, I couldn’t have done it. I was desperately waiting for an opportunity. Then at just the right moment, Mr. Akechi called—through his wisdom, he gave me the chance to act. When I heard that call, I sensed he was implicitly giving me orders.”

The boy’s apple-like cheeks shone as he amiably explained. “But wait a moment,” said Akechi, shifting his focus to Kobayashi. “You were made to inhale the anesthetic too, weren’t you? Otherwise, that monster would never have lowered his guard.” “Yes,” Kobayashi replied, his voice bright with pride. “But I’ve trained my lungs well. If I concentrate, I can hold my breath for over two minutes without trouble. Mr. Akechi always taught me to use that skill—so even when they pressed gauze over my nose and mouth, I kept still, held my breath, and pretended to faint.”

Even Onda, for all his cunning, likely never imagined that this delicate-looking boy possessed such an audacious hidden skill; seeing him go limp, he must have felt completely reassured.

"Huh, so it was you... I'm astonished... Hah! So this is what you meant earlier with those cryptic remarks, Mr. Akechi." "That's right. My success or failure hinged entirely on that one point... But Kobayashi, you didn't forget the other matter, did you? Look—the thing that's white by day and black by night."

“Yes, I set it up properly.” “Of course, the black one.” “The henchman in the driver’s seat seemed suspicious somehow, but apparently didn’t notice that device.”

“Inspector Tsunekawa, my invention proved useful.”

“That sounds intriguing—what exactly is this invention? That ‘white during the day, black at night’ part…” The Inspector’s curious eyes gleamed. “You might call it an automobile tailing device, I suppose. It’s a mechanism for tracking a target’s whereabouts when direct pursuit isn’t possible. License plates can be changed anytime someone wishes. Moreover, even knowing the number doesn’t always help locate the vehicle.” “My invention works like this: fill a large tin can with creosote, attach a sturdy handle, and hook it beneath the automobile’s rear chassis. The tin can’s bottom has pinprick-sized holes. From there—to put it dramatically—the creosote drips down like a thin thread, trickling onto the ground.”

“And then you’ll have the detective dog follow the trail left by the drips—that’s the idea, right?” “Now I see what role Sherlock was meant to play.” “But what’s this business about white and black?” “During daylight we use colorless creosote; at night, to prevent light reflection, black creosote—that is, coal tar.” “The tin cans filled with those two-colored chemicals had always been properly prepared at my house.” “Tailing is a job that requires considerable skill, you know.” “It’s too difficult for women and children.” “That’s why I’ve instructed Kobayashi and Fumiyo to use this device without taking any risks if the worst should happen.” “In tonight’s case, it was particularly appropriate.” “I’d like you to praise Kobayashi’s quick thinking.”

“Well, he certainly lives up to being your disciple.” “To seize the moment while the enemy was on the phone and accomplish all that… Truly admirable! Now then, let’s not waste Kobayashi-kun’s success—we should begin the pursuit at once.”

“Right—we’ll need one police automobile for that. We’ll ride in it and have Sherlock run ahead of us.” “It’s about time my detectives arrive—you’ll surely come by automobile.” Before long, those two skilled detectives arrived, speeding over in a police automobile.

Akechi left Mrs. Fumiyo in the doctor’s care and boarded the automobile together with Inspector Tsunekawa. A long rope had been attached to the renowned dog Sherlock, with Inspector Tsunekawa—now seated in the driver’s seat—gripping its end. Kobayashi Shonen brought out a cloth soaked with creosote and held it to Sherlock’s nose. This was to thoroughly imprint upon him the scent of their quarry before commencing pursuit.

The dog sniffed repeatedly, growing accustomed to the chemical's intense odor. When Kobayashi Shonen suddenly dashed into the house with the cloth fragment, he became disoriented and stood bewildered for a moment; then, perhaps detecting a similar scent, he began advancing vigorously while rubbing his snout against the ground.

“Alright, let’s move out.” Following Inspector Tsunekawa’s instructions, the car began to move. Sherlock would occasionally stop, then break into a fierce run. Each time this happened, they had to adjust the vehicle’s speed, but true to its reputation, the renowned dog never lost track of the enemy’s trail, and the uncanny pursuit vehicle pressed onward through the slumbering midnight towns, ever northward. When Akechi had said during the earlier phone call that a black thread-like thing clung to Onda’s body and would not let go, he was referring precisely to this. It had now become clear that his words were not mere threats or ghost stories.

The Urban Jungle

The pursuit automobile led by the renowned dog Sherlock ran through the desolate towns Onda had passed through, never deviating in the slightest, as though drawn by Akechi’s so-called "black thread." And then, when they soon approached the moat near Kudan, Akechi’s sharp eyes immediately discovered an unusual object on the road ahead.

“Oh, what’s that?” “Kindly stop the car.”

Startled by the voice, Inspector Tsunekawa tightened Sherlock’s leash. The driver pressed the brake. “Do you have a flashlight?”

When he asked the detectives in the car，fortunately one of them had it prepared． Akechi borrowed the flashlight and got out of the car． “I knew it．Inspector Tsunekawa，he tried opening the lid of the doll box around here．And when he realized he’d been completely fooled，I bet he started raging．”

Akechi advanced along the road while sweeping his flashlight beam across the pavement. Within the shifting circle of light, a mannequin's head, hands, and feet materialized before vanishing back into darkness. These were the remains of the dummy Onda had hurled from his vehicle earlier. Not Mrs. Fumiyo after all. Even a beast wouldn't dare leave an actual human strewn across public thoroughfares in such fashion. “Ha! Ha! Ha! I can picture that villain’s face when he discovered his precious catch was a mere dummy!” Akechi’s laughter cut through the night air. “Observe this savagery—torn asunder in eight pieces! Thank providence it was only a mannequin.”

Akechi finished his inspection and returned to the automobile. “But if that guy discovered the truth here, would he have meekly gone back as he was? Could he have doubled back to your house again?” Inspector Tsunekawa, in the driver’s seat, muttered uneasily. “That’s no problem. Because I gave him a proper scare over the phone. He was so panicked at the thought that officers would arrive any moment that he fled in a flurry. He won’t have the energy to come back again. Moreover, I just checked to be certain, but the black thread of creosote hasn’t stagnated at all. If he had turned back, the car would have had to reverse or at least stop once, but there’s absolutely no sign of that happening.”

“Sensei, he’s given up… Good, then let’s move forward.” And once again, the dog and the car started moving. The black thread turned right from that area, avoiding the tram street, passed by Shinobazu Pond in Ueno Park, and finally emerged onto Asakusa Park’s back street. Then they made a full turn around and reached the entrance to Nitenmon, but upon arriving there, Sherlock abruptly stopped and sniffed around the ground for a while—only to suddenly start backtracking in the direction they had come from.

“Oh, Onda’s car turned back here. “Kindly stop for a moment.” “There’s something fishy about this area.” When the car stopped, Akechi once again took the flashlight in hand, stepped down to the ground, and began investigating the area.

“Take a look here—there’s a black puddle formed,” Akechi said. “The creosote had been dripping in this same spot for some time. This proves his car stopped here. And since they turned back the way they came, he must have gotten out alone at this point. At any rate, it’s worth investigating.” Following Akechi’s instructions, they all disembarked from the car, though when they considered it, this search seemed hopelessly vague. What lay within Nitenmon? There was a Kannon Hall. A five-story pagoda. A park with ponds and wooded areas. Then came the aquarium, Hanayashiki garden, and the glittering cinema district.

“Asakusa Park… I never would have expected that.” “Surely he isn’t holed up in Asakusa Park, is he?” “In such a bustling place of all places…” Inspector Tsunekawa said with bewilderment.

“No, that’s not necessarily the case,” Akechi countered Tsunekawa’s skepticism about Asakusa Park being an unlikely hideout. “In all of Tokyo, one could say there’s no more complete hiding place for criminals than this park.” His voice carried analytical admiration as he gestured around them. “This is an urban jungle.” The narrative shifted to third-person description of the environment: Buildings of every Japanese and Western style stood jumbled together in chaotic disarray. Countless clusters of street stalls littered the area. Hidden passageways snaked through every corner. Above all surged an unceasing tide of humanity. Akechi’s explanation continued seamlessly: “All these elements form a veritable thicket where criminals can vanish.” His tone grew almost appreciative of Onda’s cunning. “If that fiend chose this park as his lair, I must acknowledge his ingenuity.” The detective completed his thought with grim irony: “Human Leopard and the concrete jungle—a rather inspired pairing, don’t you think?”

Akechi said admiringly. "But if that's really true, this bastard's going to be one hell of a problem," said Inspector Tsunekawa from behind the wheel. "It's way beyond what our little group can handle here. We'd need to call out every last officer in the district just to stand a chance—and even then I'm not sure we'd manage."

“But let’s check it out anyway. Since it’s such a conspicuously late hour, perhaps someone might have seen him.” The performances had long since ended, and most night stall vendors had already packed up, leaving no trace of the evening’s earlier brightness and bustle. Yet here and there, black shadows of late-night worshippers—pilgrims making repeated prayers—drifted through the darkness. At the entrance to Nitenmon, a fortune-teller’s tent stood in lonely isolation, as though abandoned to its fate.

At the stone pavement of Nitenmon，a single filthy，crawling beggar had stationed himself，still lying in wait for night worshippers． “Ah，if I ask this one，he might have seen something．”

Akechi muttered to himself as he approached the beggar.

Fortunately, he had not removed Onda’s disguise and had yet to wash off the makeup, so questioning required little effort. “Hey, you—you there! About thirty minutes ago—did a man like this pass through here? In other words, a man who’s the spitting image of me here.” When Akechi stood blocking his path and questioned him, the crawling beggar abruptly looked up and stared at the unexpected interrogator. What a wretched cripple he was. Both legs were completely useless, he wore what looked like straw sandals on his hands, and his entire face was rotting and oozing so badly that his eyes and nose were almost indistinguishable—a truly gruesome sight. When that face suddenly peeked out from under the torn bowler hat, Akechi instinctively turned away, regretting having spoken to such an extent.

“Oh! Oh! A man who looked just like you, sir! He passed by! He went that way! That way!” The beggar pointed toward Kannon Hall with his straw sandal-clad hands as he spoke in a slurred voice.

“Is that true? You’re certain there’s no mistake?” “Yeah, it’s true. He looked just like you, sir.” Even to the beggar’s dull eyes, Akechi’s striking disguise could not go unnoticed. Since he had described a man identical to that one, there was likely no mistake. After all, there could be no other human with such a terrifying visage besides that monster.

The group, with Akechi at the head, began walking toward Kannon Hall. Akechi grabbed the homeless riffraff loitering around the area and questioned them one after another. Inspector Tsunekawa stopped by the police box in front of the hall and questioned the officer there as well. But no one gave a clear answer. Unlike the narrow passage of Nitenmon, in this dimly lit, wide-open space, it was only natural to say so.

For some time, a thorough search was conducted from around the main hall to the park pond, but of course, there was no prey to be found.

“We have no choice but to withdraw for tonight.” “As the police, you should mobilize your full force to encircle Asakusa Park itself.” “Though even then, this leopard hunt through a labyrinthine jungle seems precarious.” “I too intend to exert every ounce of my power as a private detective.”

“Right, I’ll make the arrangements immediately.” “I may have something to report to you before daybreak.” “We have many men in our ranks who know every secret of this jungle.” “But even just confirming—thanks to you—that the criminal entered Asakusa Park is no small achievement.”

While exchanging these words, Akechi and Mr. Tsunekawa turned back toward Nitenmon Gate with the two detectives. There on the stone pavement, the same crawling beggar still stubbornly maintained his post. Akechi suddenly remembered something, felt around in his pocket for coins, dropped them into the alms bowl before him, and walked past. “Sir! Sir!”

Oh! He stopped in his tracks and turned around to find the crawling beggar calling out to him.

“Sir! You dropped something.” “Here, here!”

On the ground indicated by the straw-sandal-clad hand lay a folded envelope.

“Are you saying I dropped this?” Akechi retraced two or three steps in apparent puzzlement and picked up the envelope. “Ah, that’s you, sir.” “You just dropped it now.” The beggar grinned an ingratiating smile through his ruined face. Holding the envelope up to the gate’s ceiling light revealed “Mr. Akechi Kogoro” written on the front. It was unmistakably addressed to him. Yet he had no recollection of ever placing such a letter in his pocket.

“Hey, Tsunekawa Keibu—we might have just crossed paths with that guy in the park.”

“What? You mean the Human Leopard?”

“Yeah, I can’t shake that feeling.” “Anyway, this lighting isn’t sufficient. Let’s head back to the car.” “And let’s examine this envelope properly.”

Akechi Kogoro hurried to the police car waiting on the tram street over there.

Under the bright headlights, the four of them huddled together and examined the letter. The envelope was a cheap one made of thin kraft paper. On the back, there was no sender’s name, and the seal was left open. Akechi hurriedly pulled out the contents. It was coarse paper cut to the size of traditional Japanese writing paper, with a pencil scrawl containing the following message. Mr. Akechi—as expected of you—truly a great detective. My prey was a doll. Moreover, you knew I had come here. How frightfully sharp. Brrr...oh how terrifying. But detective—I’d give anything to see your face reading this letter. Hilarious. Do you have any notion when or who slipped this into your pocket? Detective—your training still lacks polish. Till we meet again. Human Leopard

Human Leopard

“Hmm, this is astonishing.” “So in the park’s darkness, the Human Leopard was walking right before our eyes.” “And he went and tossed this into your pocket, didn’t he?”

Mr. Tsunekawa exclaimed in astonishment.

Akechi was deep in thought about something. That couldn’t be right. Was I really so incompetent that I’d overlook an enemy right before my eyes? Moreover, having my pocket picked by that bastard—it was a humiliation I’d never experienced before. But I just couldn’t believe it. My nerves should have been alert throughout my entire body. For someone to put something in my pocket without me noticing—that was impossible for me. “Wait a moment. I think I’m starting to get it.”

Akechi’s eyes appeared to glare fiercely from excitement.

“There’s some trick at play here. There’s a secret to this magic... Yes, that’s it. That’s definitely it. Hey, Inspector Tsunekawa—I’ve made a terrible mistake. But there might still be time. That’s him. Bind up that crawling beggar!”

With those words, he dashed off like a fleeing rabbit. The remaining three also followed after him.

They dashed to Nitenmon Gate in one breath, but as expected, there was no longer any trace of the beggar there. I knew it. With the demeanor of someone informing about a lost item, it was actually that bastard himself who had thrown the envelope where Akechi had passed. Is there anyone else who would pull such a stunt? That guy was none other than the Human Leopard in disguise. To think he disguised himself as a crippled beggar and hid in the crowds of Asakusa—what a stroke of genius!

The people walked around the gate area searching for the beggar, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Akechi Kogoro even stuck his head into the fortune-teller’s tent to inquire. “You come here every night, don’t you? Do you know the crawling beggar under Nitenmon Gate—the one wearing straw sandals on his hands? Is that guy always there?” The tent was stretched taut on all sides, with only a small window at the front through which a customer’s face could barely be seen. From that window peered an old man with a white beard wearing large Lloyd glasses, a magnifying glass in one hand.

“Huh? You mean the crawling beggar?” “I’m afraid not.” “I haven’t seen any beggar like that around here.”

“But I just saw that guy now.” “He’s a wanted man by the authorities.” “He slipped away in that brief moment of distraction.” “By any chance, didn’t that beggar run past your shop?”

“I’m afraid not.” “I had a customer until just moments ago, you see.” “I was completely absorbed in reading his physiognomy at the time.” “I see. Thank you.”

With that as their final attempt, Akechi and his team had no choice but to abandon their search and withdraw for the time being.

Tsunekawa was hurrying back to the Metropolitan Police Department to make arrangements for surrounding Asakusa Park. The people hurriedly turned back toward the automobiles and left.

“Heh heh… Looks like it’s safe now. They’ve finally given up and gone home.”

Inside the fortune-telling tent, the white-bearded fortune-teller muttered something odd to himself. Then, in response to that voice, someone came scrambling out from beneath a table-like platform. It was the crawling beggar.

The beggar was neither a crawler nor anything of the sort. He abruptly sprang upright and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the elderly fortune-teller. With a sickening tear, he ripped away the rubber mask plastered across his face—a grotesque thing riddled with suppurating boils. What emerged from beneath was unmistakably the horrifying countenance of the Human Leopard. “I know Akechi well enough,” croaked the old man, “but he’s never laid eyes on this face of mine.” A rasping chuckle escaped him. “Fooled him proper, I did.”

The old fortune-teller removed his large Lloyd glasses as he spoke in an eerie, hoarse voice. Needless to say, he was the father of the Human Leopard. The son as a crawling beggar, the father as a street fortune-teller—and to think they had hidden themselves within the concrete jungle of crowds while maintaining contact—what an outlandish deception this was!

“But we’ve maintained this disguise for quite some time now—we’ll have to end it after tonight. That sharp man will surely uncover our secret before that car has traveled halfway down the road.” “Hmph—but it’s already too late now.” The Human Leopard spat out the words and let out a cavernous yawn. “Father, you worked quite hard today, didn’t you?” “Ah, from Azabu to Shibaura, then Shibaura to Asakusa... But no matter—it was nothing at all. Battling against the world thrills me beyond endurance.”

And so, this most terrifying parent and child in the world looked at each other and exchanged eerie, sinister grins over and over.

The Eerie Park

The beast in human form had fled into the concrete jungle—the hiding place most suited to him. Hills, ponds, woods—and buildings large and small of every shape and angle standing chaotically along avenues, alleys, and shortcuts... Where else in all of Tokyo could one find a maze as masterfully crafted as Asakusa Park? Moreover, there, all year round, massive crowds teemed and swirled about in a dizzying frenzy. Finding the criminal who had vanished into that concrete jungle was surely more difficult than searching for a silver coin dropped into a brazier.

The following early morning, a mixed plainclothes squad composed of members from the Metropolitan Police Department and local police stations was formed. And so, the detectives—each transformed into various guises—began narrowing their search net from all sides of the park, combing through every nook and cranny without discrimination, whether they were residences, shops, or eateries. The homeless were driven out, and with meticulous thoroughness, they inspected everything from the ceiling to beneath the floorboards of Sensōji Main Hall—not to mention the Five-Story Pagoda—even peering inside the giant lanterns of Nio Gate, but two days passed without any results.

On the second day, strange posters—conceived by Inspector Tsunekawa—were plastered up at every intersection in the Asakusa area. In the center of each poster was a portrait of the Human Leopard Onda—commissioned from an artist and printed at twice his actual size. Beneath it read in plain language with phonetic glosses: “This is a portrait of Onda, the murderer who has recently been terrorizing society. Those who discover such a person must immediately notify the nearest police box.” The portrait had been drawn by a Western-style painter—who had once witnessed the Human Leopard’s visage at the Daido Theater—with input from the Akechi couple; yet the beast-man’s highly distinctive features were sufficiently captured from memory.

As a police tactic, this truly bold poster strategy formed massive throngs at every intersection. Terrified eyes were riveted on the grotesque portrait. Rumors about the Human Leopard—each more terrifying than the last—grew ever more exaggerated as they spread through the masses.

“Whoa, damn.” “They say this guy’s eyes glow bright blue even in the dark.” “He’s got fangs!” “It’s true! He’s got fangs! He’ll even devour dogs or anything else, ain’t that right?” “Nah, not dogs. He eats human women!” “What an unpleasant thing to see. With something like this posted up, the park’s gonna lose all its visitors.”

“I’ve seen this guy before.” “You know—it was during that whole commotion at the Daido Theater.” “He looks just like this drawing.” “No, his face wasn’t this tame.” “This guy here—he stood right in the middle of the revue stage, glared at the audience seats, bared these fangs, and let out this roar! When he did that—I don’t know how to put it—there was no escaping that moment.” “Oh! So you actually saw it?” “I’ve heard the stories too—isn’t it true Egawa Ranko got torn to shreds right on that stage?”

“Forget that old stuff—I saw this guy just last night!”

“Where?” “Where?” “It’s the big ginkgo tree behind the hall.” “While I was lying under it, some bastard went and stepped on my head.” “Startled, I jumped up, and what do you think was slithering up that ginkgo tree smooth as a cat? A pitch-black thing!” “When I shouted ‘Hey!’ at him, that bastard glared down at me from up in the branches.” “Did he look like this?”

“That’s right. Those bright blue eyes were glowing like stars, I tell ya.” “I ran off without even lookin’ back.” “Why don’t you tell the officer?” “I did tell them.” “I did tell them, but by the time the police went to search the big ginkgo tree, there was nothin’ left there anymore.” Homeless people, newspaper boys, middle school students, youth group members, shop-owning retirees, and passing company employees all came together to discuss the terrifying poster’s protagonist.

Whether in barbershops, public bathhouses, or movie theater seats—wherever people gathered, the talk was of the "Human Leopard." Various ghost stories were fabricated, and they spread with ever-growing embellishments.

When a certain housewife opened the door to the communal toilet, inside crouched the Human Leopard with its bright blue eyes—such was another of the ghost stories that circulated.

There was also a ghost story that in the dead of night, the Human Leopard had perched on the railing of Nio Gate like Ishikawa Goemon, resting his cheek on his hand as he gazed down at Nakamise Street. One night, a young geisha who visited Kannon-sama daily was passing through Nio Gate with her companion when one of them happened to glance up at the ceiling. There, atop one of the massive votive lanterns, something resembling a human head—like a severed head on display—suddenly peeked out, its form barely visible in the dim glow from Nakamise Street.

When one of them stopped and looked up at the ceiling, the other also joined in looking in that direction—there was indeed a human head, its eyes burning with a phosphorescent blue flame. Both of them—their throats constricted and legs numb—were on the verge of fainting right there. With great effort, they stealthily retreated from beneath the gate, only to suddenly let out a shriek and dash toward Nakamise Street.

It was due to these circumstances that the police conducted a search even inside the large votive lanterns of Nio Gate. Had he escaped during that time? Or had it been nothing more than the young women’s hallucination from the start? By the time they investigated, of course, the lantern’s interior was empty.

Ghost stories begat ghost stories, and in an instant, the pleasure quarter transformed into a street of terror. By day it was one thing, but at night—once the movie district was left behind—the vast park became so deserted that not a soul could be seen, as if it were a graveyard or something. Now, Asakusa Park was practically occupied not by sightseers, but by plainclothes detectives, youth group members, and curious onlookers.

The morning after the posters were put up, those intersections were, in a different sense, a sea of people. The reason was that, in a truly bizarre turn of events, the portraits on the posters had completely transformed overnight.

“Weird. Who’d pull such a prank?” “The same thing’s been pasted on that poster over there too.” “Instead of the Human Leopard, now we’ve got some absurdly handsome guy here.” “I feel like I’ve seen this face somewhere before.”

Such words were being exchanged here and there within the crowd. Over the Human Leopard’s portrait, another sheet of paper had been pasted over it, bearing a hand-drawn image of a strikingly handsome man. Every poster had been altered to show this same face. Someone must have painstakingly walked around during the night and pasted these identical portraits onto every last poster. “Ah, I get it! This portrait—that’s it! It’s the face of the Human Leopard’s enemy!”

Within the crowd, someone finally noticed it. “The enemy? Who is it?” “You know that already.” “Akechi Kogoro.” “Isn’t it said that the Human Leopard had a terrible time because of Akechi?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, it’s Mr. Akechi.” “It looks just like Mr. Akechi.” Indeed, that was unmistakably a caricature of Akechi Kogoro—a beardless, gaunt face; disheveled hair; distinctive thick eyebrows—a well-executed likeness of the famous detective. People had become familiar with this face through newspaper photographs. “Hey, this is ridiculous! Read the text below.” “So that means Akechi Kogoro’s the wanted murderer now!” “That’s terrible!” “Who on earth would pull such a stunt?”

“It’s not the police, is it?” “It might be the work of someone who holds a grudge against Mr. Akechi.” “If you’re talking about someone with a grudge, that would be the Human Leopard, right?”

When someone said that, the sea of people fell completely silent. For it was far too terrifying—and yet precisely accurate—a deduction. In the dead of night, that monster with glowing blue eyes had wandered like a black wind, muttering curses to himself as he pasted up portraits of his nemesis, Akechi Kogoro—this unfathomable scene chilled the crowd to the bone.

After all, he had been hiding in some corner of Asakusa Park. Even their wishful thinking—that perhaps he had fled to another area—turned against them. The local people began to decry the police’s incompetence. The door-to-door visits by detectives and youth group members were repeated once more. But that day too drew to a close without any particular results.

Leopard Bandit

It was late at night.

The owner of Oyama Barber Shop—who ran a shop in Senzoku-cho and was known locally as the "Mighty Barber"—had brought his beloved Tosa dog and come to the deserted Asakusa Park for exercise. His wife had tried repeatedly to stop him due to the danger, but he was the barber master called the Mighty Barber—he wouldn’t be dissuaded. First off, if I cowered at rumors of the Human Leopard, wouldn’t my precious Tosa dog fall ill from lack of exercise? What’s more, even I’d been suffering this awful stomachache for two or three days straight. No matter what anyone said, I was going out tonight. With that, striking a pose like the bronze statue of Saigo Takamori, he tugged at the thick rein-like dog leash and marched into the park’s plaza.

“Hoh, you’re surprised, huh? Ain’t a single one of ’em shown up.”

After walking from around Danjuro’s statue to the edge of the pond, the master muttered approvingly. Normally, once the movie theaters had closed for some time afterward, dog owners from around Asakusa would come strolling in—proudly shouldering leashes with crimson or purple tassels and leading ferocious dogs of various Japanese and Western breeds—but tonight not even a single dog’s shadow could be seen. “What a buncha spineless bastards they are—ain’t they?” “Nōkuma.”

Since none of his familiar companions were in sight, he had no choice but to talk to his beloved dog. The Tosa dog called Bear truly lived up to his name in build. “But this is nice an’ quiet, ain’t it, Bear?”

It was a bit too quiet. Looking at the movie district—in stark contrast to its daytime bustle—it lay as lifeless as the ruins of Rome, while the restaurants and teahouses had all shut their doors tight, remaining as silent and still as abandoned houses. Except for the trees around the pond on the hill rustling in a night wind that had suddenly remembered to blow, there was no sound at all. Under normal circumstances, the stone-paved path before the main hall would resound with the clatter of wooden clogs throughout the night, but even those devout worshippers seemed to have been cowed into silence by the terror of the Human Leopard.

Oyama, the barber shop owner, still dressed like Saigo-san, trudged heavily through the deserted landscape. Every bench he passed was empty. Even the homeless valued their lives. Is this really that Asakusa Park? Could it be that in my confusion, I’ve wandered into some absurd place? Or could it be that I am now having a bad dream? He found himself suddenly doubting whether this was real.

After circling the pond once and passing through a narrow path between a stand of trees, he found a circular open space spreading before his eyes. A single streetlamp dimly illuminated the entire view like a hazy moonlit night. The stand of trees on the opposite side had merged with the darkness until nearly indistinguishable, yet among them darted a shadowy figure. Upon closer inspection, the figure appeared to be walking dogs—no, two dogs rather than one.

“Oh! Now there’s an admirable fellow.” “Nōkuma! Look!” “Here comes your pal!”

The master tried to approach that way. He wanted to see the face of this courageous dog lover and exchange a few words. But for some reason, Nōkuma balked and refused to move. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?” When he turned around, his beloved dog stood wolf-like—back fur bristling, upper lip curled into a fearsome snarl, teeth bared, a thunderous growl rumbling deep in its throat. This was truly strange. It was exceedingly rare for old Nōkuma to act this way.

The master, dragged backward by the powerful dog, gradually retreated into the stand of trees as if hiding himself and stared at the figure ahead. The strange figure leading two dogs emerged from the tree shade and passed from right to left beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp. He was a thin old man wearing a black high-collared suit. Pure white hair, and a bushy white beard that hung down to his chest. The master had never before encountered such a peculiar old man.

The old man proceeded quietly without glancing sideways. A madman-like aura, as if he weren't of this world, surrounded him. Strangely, neither dog wore a leash. The animals followed behind as though drawn by an invisible thread, moving in sync with his pace.

But what a large dog that was. And what about the suppleness of that gait? It wasn't a dog—it was more like a cat. He began to notice that the strange beast's entire body was covered in jet-black spots. It wasn't a dog. But then, there was no way such a huge cat could exist. Then... then... what in the world was that thing?

As he stared, the true nature of that creature became clearer with every passing moment. Vivid spots, sturdy thick limbs, a lifelike long tail, eyes glowing an intense blue—there was no mistaking it now. It was a leopard. A leopard was roaming freely. But Master Oyama could not suddenly bring himself to believe this utterly absurd scene. An old man leading a wild beast plodding through the park—was there something wrong with my eyes? Or perhaps I was dreaming?

However, when he suddenly noticed, the other creature trailing behind the leopard was an even more startling monster. What was truly bizarre was that this creature wore Western-style clothing—pitch-black Western-style clothing at that. Its hind legs were twice as long as its front legs, bent contrary to normal animals. To make matters worse, shoes covered the tips of those legs. In both size and appearance, it seemed human-like, but for a human to crawl on all fours alongside a leopard—what in the world could this mean?

As the master stood there nearly paralyzed, devoid of even the strength to move, sweating profusely, the terrifying procession finished crossing the clearing and vanished into the thicket on the left. But at that moment—the face of that Western-clad monster when it abruptly turned toward him—ah, that terrifying visage would haunt the master’s memory for the rest of his life.

It was unmistakably the Human Leopard. It was the spitting image of the caricature on that wanted poster. Its perfectly round eyes burned with a phosphorescent glow even more fiercely than those of a real leopard. And beneath those terrifying eyes, its crimson mouth stretched taut into a crescent shape, baring white fangs as it grinned—though what it found so amusing was anyone’s guess. All the while, Nōkuma had been growling menacingly with a fearsome expression, but as soon as the four-legged beast in Western clothing began disappearing into the thicket—unable to endure any longer—he let out a ferocious roar, suddenly tore free from his master’s grip, and dashed out in pursuit of the monster. He ran like a bouncing ball, crossed the clearing in an instant, and vanished into the thicket on the other side.

But the barber master could not afford to care about his beloved dog. It was a matter of his own life. In a frantic daze, he dashed off in the opposite direction. He ran and ran until he tumbled into the police box in front of the main hall. “A leopard… A leopard…!”

He clung to the police box door, pointing toward the distant pond as he continued to scream like a madman.

The word "leopard" provoked an unusual reaction from the police officers. When they hurriedly pressed for details, it indeed turned out to be the emergence of the "Human Leopard." No—it was an even more grotesque and bizarre incident than the "Human Leopard."

Immediately, this matter was telephoned to the main police station. Before long, a squad of police officers, armed with pistols, rushed to the scene. However swiftly they were mobilized, a considerable amount of time had already passed in the interim. By the time the heavily armed police squad arrived, even after scouring every corner of the vast park, not a trace of anything resembling it remained. However, as proof that the barber’s account was neither dream nor delusion, the cruelly torn-apart corpse of his beloved dog Nōkuma—now resembling a crimson scrap of cloth—was discovered in a grove not far from where he had witnessed the beast’s form.

Even so, no matter how much one might call it an urban jungle, the notion of a tropical leopard strolling through Tokyo’s Asakusa Park seemed too preposterous to believe. As for the Human Leopard, people reasoned that at least the real leopard must have been a hallucination of the nervous barber—contrary to his rugged appearance. The police officers and others privy to the rumor all shared this view. Yet when dawn broke the next day, it became evident this spectral leopard had been no mere apparition. That morning, the ashen-faced manager of Asakusa’s famed Hanayashiki presented himself at the police station. There he disclosed that their prized female leopard had disappeared from its cage overnight. What’s more, examination showed no signs of the beast breaking free—rather, something had procured a duplicate key and methodically unlocked the cage door.

The villain who opened the cage was none other than that white-haired, white-bearded old man—in other words, the “Human Leopard.” It must be Onda’s father. But what on earth could have been the purpose behind committing such a senseless act? Was it merely to wantonly set a wild beast loose in the streets, terrify the citizens, and cry out in triumph? Or could there have been some other deeper motive? It couldn’t possibly be from some preposterous motive like the Human Leopard desiring a companion.

Tiger Man With just the Human Leopard being menace enough, the realization that an actual wild beast now roamed free drove Asakusa’s residents into panic beyond comprehension. Movie theaters, revues, eateries, street vendors—all fell into a pitiful state, their establishments teetering on closure. Come nightfall, the entire park transformed into a desolate expanse. Yet Asakusa Park’s allure proved indomitable. By day, laborers never ceased their toil. Across Tokyo’s sprawl, no small number still ventured into the park oblivious to the rumors, while reckless gawkers materialized from nowhere to form teeming crowds that cloaked the grounds in an eerie “sinister bustle.” Through this throng scurried workers in quilted jackets and uniformed youth group members, all darting about in disarray.

Now, on the afternoon two days after that midnight horror, Akechi Kogoro and his new wife Fumiyo-san walked side by side through the park filled with this "sinister bustle." Of course, they were not exposing their real faces. It was unthinkable that Fumiyo-san—the very prey targeted by the Human Leopard—would boldly waltz into what could be called his lair with her true features unconcealed. Amid the crowd of onlookers wandered two people who seemed to have no particular destination—a man and a woman. The man wore a lightly soiled worker-style patched jacket and a hunting cap blackened with machine oil, its sheen dulled. His attire included wooden-soled sandals, large round glasses, and a thick jet-black mustache—though his entire face was smeared with machine oil like an apprentice clerk’s.

The woman had her hair in a traditional kushimaki updo, her face wrapped in a faded hand towel, wearing an indigo kasuri-patterned haori-like garment that left her white waist wrap fully exposed. Moreover, her daring outfit of men’s long socks paired with rubber-soled tabi gave her the appearance of a laborer’s earthworker companion. That lightly grimy laborer was none other than the renowned detective Akechi Kogoro, while the “earthworker” was Fumiyo-san herself. There had been many opinions that leaving Fumiyo-san at the Akechi Detective Agency would leave her vulnerable to a Human Leopard attack at any moment—that she ought to be evacuated somewhere safe—but when dealing with that demon, as Egawa Ranko’s case demonstrated, evacuation proved futile as true refuge. Rather than that, Fumiyo-san had made the gallant resolution that accompanying her husband Akechi wherever he went would provide the surest protection while allowing her to assist in his investigations. To this plan, Akechi had given his approval—and thus matters had come to pass.

As readers familiar with *The Vampire* will recall, Fumiyo-san—though beautiful and gentle in appearance—was no fragile burden to Akechi. Her past as a woman detective had seen to that. Indeed, she may have been the indispensable assistant without whom even the great detective could not function. These two disguised figures walked among the throngs of gawkers yet were no mere spectators themselves. They bore the duty of hunting a murderer. Beyond this official mission lay layers of personal vendetta. For Akechi, nothing short of tracking down the demonic Human Leopard—even at mortal peril—would suffice.

Beneath their hunting caps and face coverings, the eyes of the two never ceased their vigilance for an instant. Every house lining both sides of the street, every passerby without exception, fell under their sharp detective scrutiny. The pair became sleek hounds pursuing a wild beast's scent through urban jungle. No minutest detail could evade their gaze. Midway through Rokku's cinema district lay a shadowed alleyway—narrow as a ravine floor—wedged between concrete movie palaces. Even on days of greatest bustle, this gloomy passage saw scarce use. An eerily silent valley bottom. Save for patrons occasionally traversing its midpoint basement café and theater staff using the back entrance along its slender path, foot traffic remained nearly nonexistent.

The laborer and the "work-worn companion"—the Akechi couple—casually entered that alleyway. There was no particular reason behind it. They had merely intended to take a shortcut through there to the back street. But when they took a single step into the valley bottom, they discovered something that made them gasp. A giant tiger was plodding along on its hind legs right there before them. But a real beast couldn’t just appear so readily. It was, of course, not real. He wore a tiger-striped shirt, his head completely engulfed by an oversized papier-mâché tiger mask, shoulders draped with red-and-white advertisement banners, and hands clutching a bundle of crimson flyers—in short, it was nothing more than a street advertiser clad in an outlandish costume.

Upon reading the characters on the flag, it said “Z Circus Troupe.” There must be a circus set up somewhere—this was clearly a street advertiser distributing flyers for it. Even so, a tiger disguise was unusual. Could it be that the Z Circus Troupe featured a tiger act as their main attraction? Akechi had temporarily relaxed his guard after reaching this conclusion, yet he couldn’t shake off a vague sense of unease lingering in some corner of his mind.

Tiger Man—this was essentially a Tiger Man. While one might call it a coincidental resemblance between this figure and the Human Leopard, didn't it carry an unnervingly deliberate significance? And why would he wear such an absurd papier-mâché tiger head? Though only the eye holes appeared cut out, wasn't his entire face otherwise completely concealed? One couldn't help suspecting this was some cunning device to hide his features. Could it be—could it possibly be—that beneath that ludicrous paper mask lurked the ghastly visage of the Human Leopard they'd hunted so desperately?

The Tiger Man had been plodding along slowly near the exit on the far side of the alleyway, but when Akechi and his companions rounded the corner and came into view, he felt certain the man had turned to stare intently at them. From that moment onward, for reasons unclear, the figure slowed his pace even further—with nearly every step casting furtive, suspicious glances their way. It was strange for a mere street advertiser to show such interest in a laborer and his work-worn companion. This had to be that demon’s doing. Hadn’t he already seen through their disguises long ago? Wasn’t he now laughing mockingly from within that papier-mâché tiger head, his phosphorescent eyes gleaming?

He could not rest until he had confirmed it. If this eccentric notion proved correct—if he could capture the mysterious Human Leopard so effortlessly—then even this renowned detective, who prided himself on his usual composure, could not help but feel his heart race.

Akechi quickened his pace and approached the Tiger Man street advertiser. Then, strangely enough, Tiger Man—as if luring Akechi—kept turning his tiger head to look back again and again while rounding the corner into the back street.

Akechi reached the corner in one bound. Determined not to let him escape, Akechi stepped into the back street with fervor—only to find Tiger Man standing there motionless and dimly visible.

“Hey you—take off that tiger headgear and show me your face.” As Akechi approached the bill-distributing advertiser, he abruptly called out. The man in tiger disguise seemed momentarily perplexed by the request and stayed silent, but finally— “Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh! You want to see my face, sir?”

With an obsequious laugh, he lifted the papier-mâché headgear with a flick of his hand, revealing what lay beneath with practiced ease.

Was the face that appeared from beneath that of the dreaded "Human Leopard"? No, no—it was nothing of the sort.

Akechi broke into a cold sweat from the shame of his mistaken assumption. His face was far from terrifying; it was in fact absurdly comical. Beneath a jet-black chestnut-burr haircut lay a bony, swarthy face that appeared fiftyish, with thick pitch-black eyebrows reminiscent of Saigo Takamori’s portrait. Below the nose jutted an impressively grand mustache—the sort one might associate with a General So-and-so—its thick inverted-V shape rising ostentatiously toward both ears like a two-handed greatsword.

“Ah, my apologies! I mistook you for someone else. That’s enough—put that back on and get back to your business.” As Akechi apologized and turned to leave, the street advertiser laughed with another “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh” and held out a circus troupe flyer. “Here, take one of these.” Akechi absently took it, then suddenly noticed pencil scrawls on the back of the lithographed advertisement. Hmm—odd.

He flipped it over—what was this doing on a brand-new advertisement flyer?—and as his eyes focused on the scrawl, Akechi’s expression visibly tensed up. "Akechi, is Fumiyo-san alright?"

“Once I set my mind to something, I see it through to the end—that’s just how I am.” The handwriting looked familiar; indeed, connections existed between the Tiger and the Leopard somewhere. This was yet another of the Human Leopard’s outlandish communication methods. “Hey, you—don’t tell me you wrote this?”

Under Akechi’s sharp glare, Tiger Man fidgeted nervously and let out his usual obsequious laugh. “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh, it wasn’t me.” “Just a moment ago, a stranger asked me to do this.” “He told me to wait in that alley, saying someone of such-and-such appearance would pass by soon and to hand this to them. Then he took a pencil and scribbled something on the back of the flyer before leaving.” “What did he look like?”

Akechi snapped back, his tone biting.

“He was a fine gentleman.” “A man in a suit, about thirty…” “His face? You remember his face, don’t you?” “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh, that’s not quite clear to me.” “That gentleman was peculiar.” “It seemed he didn’t want me to see his face—whenever we were face-to-face, he’d always press a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.” The Tiger Man, with a stern general’s mustache that seemed ill-suited to him, appeared to be a rather dim-witted fellow. He must have been coerced somewhat, yet had gladly carried out their errand.

“Tsk, you don’t seem to know the rumors about the Human Leopard.” “Huh? The Human Leopard, you say?” Tiger Man exclaimed in shock. Even someone as dim-witted as him could not possibly be unaware of that terrifying beast-man’s name. “That’s right. The man who asked you was none other than that Human Leopard.”

Akechi snapped, “Which way did he go?”

“This way.” Tiger Man fidgeted nervously as he pointed down the long, straight street ahead. “He was in a hurry, huh?”

“Yes, he hurried around the corner, if I recall.” “So, he was the rumored Human Leopard? Brr, brr, brr... Ah, how terrifying!” “He might have had a car waiting around there.” “Yes, that might be the case.” “That’s right.” “But even if it weren’t a car, a fair amount of time has already passed, you know.” “There’s no reason he’d be lingering around here.” “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh, well then, excuse me.”

Tiger Man muttered this in his thoroughly dull-witted tone, snugly pulled the tiger head back over his own, and shambled away slowly.

Akechi Kogoro had to rapidly consider his next course of action. But even as he did so, he suddenly sensed a void behind him. A creeping sense of emptiness assailed his spine.

He realized what this implied and instinctively whirled around in shock. There—just as he feared—the figure who should have been behind him had vanished. "That's enough!"

Mrs. Fumiyo had vanished from the ravine passage as though she had evaporated into thin air. Something had happened. Akechi immediately intuited it. Otherwise, there was no reason for Mrs. Fumiyo to vanish from his sight without a word. On the back of the red flyer was written, "Is Mrs. Fumiyo all right?" But at the very moment Akechi read those words, Mrs. Fumiyo was already no longer "all right."

But even so, by what means could this have been accomplished right in the midst of broad daylight crowds? "Human Leopard" Even if he were a daring magician, could this have truly been possible?

Bear When Akechi turned from the valley-bottom shortcut into a back alley while pursuing Tiger Man’s trail—“That’s enough!”—

Mrs. Fumiyo, a step behind, was walking right in the middle of the shortcut.

At the edge of the road stood a low iron railing, from which a narrow concrete staircase descended to the building's basement like a gloomy cavernous hole. It was the entrance to an underground café partitioned from the movie theater's basement. Just as Mrs. Fumiyo passed by that railing, what seemed like a black figure darted out from the cavernous staircase and suddenly seized her from behind. Mrs. Fumiyo was seen raising both hands. But she had no time to make a sound. The man in the black workman's jacket and the "Yoitomake" woman became a single motionless mass, like grotesque living dolls. The man's hand pressed a white cloth-like object against her mouth from behind like a gag.

Before long, the man effortlessly hoisted the limp Mrs. Fumiyo onto his back and, brazenly maintaining his grotesque appearance, walked into the bustling crowds of the movie district’s main street.

The man looked like a grimy laborer in a workman’s jacket. The torn brim of his bowler hat drooped to the tip of his nose, beneath which a five-day-old beard—grown to an inch—jutted out thick and black. Carrying the Yoitomake woman who appeared to be his wife, he shouldered through the crowd at a brisk pace. What’s more, the woman on his back had gone limp from unconsciousness. Her hands swayed limply near the man’s chest. This spectacle inevitably drew the notice of passersby. Hundreds of faces turned simultaneously toward his receding figure.

But the man paid no mind to such things and strode briskly onward. Before his eyes stood the Rokku police box, where a fair-skinned, handsome policeman was on duty. The man, with remarkable wit, stopped directly in front of the policeman and called out. “That damn wife o’ mine had a fit, an’ I can’t do squat about it.” “Could you help me find some doctor somewhere?”

When the policeman heard this, he made a troubled face. “You said ‘doctor’—don’t you have a regular one? Where the hell are you from?” “Oh, I’m from Mikawashima.” “Mikawashima? Hmph. Is that so. So you’ve got no acquaintances around here either, huh. If it’s epilepsy, there’s no need to worry. If you leave it alone for a while, it’ll probably get better on its own.” “But I really want to get her some treatment, see. If you were in my shoes, you couldn’t just leave her be either, you see.”

The man feigned indignation. “I see. Then just take her to some pay clinic or something.” “You know where a pay clinic is, right?” “It’s behind Honganji Temple.”

The policeman didn’t engage with him any further. And that was precisely what the man had intended. He carried the woman on his back, hurried through the movie district, and vanished without a trace.

When Mrs. Fumiyo awoke from her anesthetic-induced dream, she found herself lying in a dingy room with faded red tatami mats of indeterminate location. “So you’ve finally come around, eh? Mrs. Akechi—I’ve finally got you!” A bearded man in a workman’s jacket loomed over her face, calling out venomously. “Ha ha ha ha, seems like your head isn’t clear yet, huh. Come on, time to wake up properly.” The man’s warm breath, carrying a peculiar odor, hung thickly over her face.

“Oh, where am I? And you… who are you—” “And you are—”

Startled, Mrs. Fumiyo hurriedly tried to sit up while demanding, "Who are you?" "Who, me?" Then, savoring her anguish, the man answered slowly and deliberately. "I am someone you know quite well. Now, doesn't this voice sound familiar? Hmm? Didn't we just have a nice chat in your husband's study the other day?" Mrs. Fumiyo turned pale, her eyes widening as she stared at the man's silent face.

“Ha ha ha, are you saying my face looks different? Then I’ll show you right now. Here—this face. Surely you haven’t forgotten this face?” The man tore off the workman’s hat that had concealed his eyes and began ripping away the unkempt beard covering his face. “Aah... Onda...”

Mrs. Fumiyo let out a scream while leaping away from the man’s side. “Do you understand now? That’s Onda. They call me Human Leopard too, you know. You people gave me such a clever name. Heh heh... Oh Mrs. Fumiyo, even if you try to run, I won’t let you escape. And scream all you want—there’s nobody around here to hear it... You’ll just have to resign yourself to this.”

Despite being a grotesque beast while spouting theatrical lines, the Human Leopard crept closer to his cowering prey. A wild-animal-like bony black face; gigantic eyes glaring with bluish light; crimson lips; razor-sharp teeth honed to a keen edge—all of this gradually drew nearer, filling Mrs. Fumiyo's terrified field of vision in an overwhelming close-up. In truth, there had been no room to flee even had she tried. That said, the thought of overcoming this peerless monster never occurred to her. Most women would likely have become the beastman's prey while wailing and screaming. But Mrs. Fumiyo would not allow it.

It was a long, brutal, desperate struggle. Mrs. Fumiyo’s beautiful face was battered like a boxer’s, and her kimono was torn to shreds. With each breath so ragged her ribs threatened to protrude, her throat parched, her tongue dried out like blackened cinders. It was a battle so fierce that even the Human Leopard’s face was drenched in greasy sweat. Of course, Mrs. Fumiyo was subjected to a near-death ordeal. But she did not yield the final line. She still had just enough strength left to defend it. Even the demon, utterly overwhelmed by the woman’s tenacious strength, could do nothing but abandon his infatuation, reverse it into hatred, and resort to his second scheme.

“Heh heh heh heh…”

From the demon’s crimson-engorged mouth burst a discordant laugh, overwrought with excitement. “So you want to die quickly, huh? “That’s exactly what I want too. “Everything’s prepared. “I’ve devised an exquisitely bizarre execution method. “Fufufufu… Aren’t you trembling, Mrs. Fumiyo? …Or will you reconsider becoming my honored guest? “Well? Can’t muster the resolve?”

“…………”

“Heh heh heh heh… You’re glaring at me with such a terrifying face.” “But that face of yours will soon be streaked with tears.” “You’d better not regret it when that time comes.”

The Human Leopard kept his face turned toward the collapsed Mrs. Fumiyo, grinning creepily all the while as he sidled crabwise toward the closet and slid open its door with a clatter. Inside the closet, a large wooden box came into view. It was a sturdy box made of thick planks, like a packing crate used to ship equipment. Onda opened the lid and grabbed something from inside. Mrs. Fumiyo completely trusted in Akechi’s abilities. If her adversary was a demon, then her husband was a superhuman. He would never be killed. He would definitely save her. Through unexpected means, the famous detective Akechi Kogoro made the impossible possible. She had firmly believed she would not lose her strength until the very end.

But upon hearing the Human Leopard’s eerie words and his smug, derisive laughter that brimmed with confidence, even she could not help but feel afraid. Just as a surgical patient steals fearful glances at the operating table and the shelf of scalpels with a pounding heart, she couldn’t help but fix her eyes on the grotesque box inside the closet and the object that had been retrieved from it. What the Human Leopard dragged out from the box with a magician-like gesture was an unnervingly bulky, black, floppy thing—something utterly chilling.

At first, she couldn't discern its true form in the dim closet, but as it was dragged out into the light with a scraping noise, she came to realize the thing had a face—a pointed jet-black face; glinting eyes; a gaping crimson mouth; large fangs jutting out; and a thick, shaggy black torso with four legs armed with sharp claws.

It was a bear. The Human Leopard had pulled out the bear. However, given how completely limp it was, it couldn’t be alive. Was it a bear’s corpse then? No, no—if it were a corpse, its abdomen wouldn’t be so completely flattened. Then, could it be a stuffed pelt? But there was something about it that didn’t quite resemble fur. If it were fur, it shouldn’t retain that much of a living creature’s presence. “Heh heh heh heh… There’s no need to be frightened. It won’t bite yet.”

The Human Leopard, handling the thick fur, approached Mrs. Fumiyo. He said, "It won't bite yet." Was he suggesting this bear would someday revive and devour her? She couldn't believe such an absurd thing could happen. That hadn't been his meaning, but when she later reflected, she realized this casual remark had contained a truly hair-raising implication.

“This is a bear costume.” “A person gets inside this, crawls on all fours, and imitates a bear.” “It’s not me who’s going in.” “Of course, you’re the one who’ll wear this.” “And starting right now, you’re going to become a bear.” “You’ll transform entirely into a terrifying beast.” “Until you die, you’ll never return to the human world again.”

The Human Leopard’s tone gradually softened. And, in inverse proportion to that, the content of his words grew increasingly terrifying. “There we go, be a good girl and change your clothes obediently. First, take off those filthy clothes…” Onda’s eerie fingertips began peeling off the tattered hanten and other garments from Mrs. Fumiyo’s body, one by one. At first, she had attempted to resist, but since her assailant’s objective had completely changed, she no longer felt the need to exert herself to the utmost as before; moreover, with every last ounce of strength drained from her body, any further resistance had become utterly impossible. In a near-dreamlike state, she had her kimono stripped away and was then enveloped from head to toe in the warm bear pelt.

The bear pelt had its abdomen slit open with hidden buttons like those on a shirt; when one put it on and fastened the buttons, a perfectly seamless, lifelike bear took shape. Though human legs and a bear’s hind legs naturally differed in form, they had applied clever workmanship to that section—from the outside, the hind legs merely appeared slightly thicker than normal, creating an exact replica of a living bear. “Come now, Bear. Walkies.” “Time for walkies.”

Onda cooed in a honeyed voice, then produced a beast tamer’s short whip from somewhere and began mercilessly lashing the hapless bear’s hindquarters with terrifying force. The supple whip sliced through the air, cracking twice—crack, crack—echoing throughout the room. Mrs. Fumiyo inside the bear had no intention of crawling out, but if she remained still, Onda would hoist her waist with both hands and shove forcefully, so by that momentum she ended up crawling a couple of steps. After repeating this over and over again, this strange human bear had finally circled the entire room.

It was a scene both absurd and terrifying—truly indescribable. In the bare, empty room—devoid of furniture like an abandoned house—on faded tatami mats stained reddish-brown, the beast-taming had begun. A large bear was being drilled in tricks. The one being used was a real human; beneath a single layer of pelt lay the beautiful Mrs. Fumiyo, utterly naked. As for the beast tamer, though he wore a happi coat and stood on two legs, he himself was a beast. A beast-man with leopard's eyes, leopard's fangs, leopard's tongue, and a leopard's heart. It was an inconceivable grotesquerie. It was a cruel and terrifying spectacle unlike anything the world had ever seen.

But what in the world was the Human Leopard trying to do? Merely making her wear a bear pelt and tormenting her did not seem to be his ultimate objective. Ahead of Mrs. Fumiyo’s path, even more terrifying things must have been lying in wait. Onda had used the word “execution.” What exactly could that cruelty signify? “Well, let’s stop here for today,” he said. “Now, now—you stay quiet in your cage, Bear.”

Onda drove the bear into the closet, placed it into that same sturdy wooden box, and shut the lid from above. “Bear, you must be hungry.” “I’ll bring you something right now.” “Your favorite—a live rabbit.” “Just wait a little longer.”

And with a sharp clack, the closet’s sliding door shut.

Mrs. Fumiyo could no longer move, see, or hear. There was nothing but hellish darkness and graveyard silence. Speaking of graveyards, the interior of the wooden box—where she couldn’t so much as twitch—somehow brought a coffin to mind. And not just any coffin—one buried deep underground. But surely he wasn’t going to leave Mrs. Fumiyo like this and let her starve to death. The Human Leopard’s execution would not be something as lenient as that. Ah, what on earth was that monster planning? What connection did the bear pelt have to it? He needed to know quickly. No matter how terrifying it might be, knowing was better than remaining ignorant. One could not endure a terror beyond imagination.

The Terrifying Tenant

The story now returned to its main thread.

Akechi Kogoro’s panic at losing sight of his beloved wife, Mrs. Fumiyo, was only natural. Even a great detective is only human. At times he made mistakes; at times he panicked. His greatness lay in not allowing mental shocks to linger. Even if he made missteps, he ultimately possessed such intellect and vitality that more than compensated for any error. For such a man, a misstep ceased to be a misstep; panic ceased to be panic.

He ran around the vicinity of the scene, striving to grasp some clue, but upon realizing there was no hope, he borrowed a telephone from the nearest store and urgently reported the circumstances to the investigation headquarters at K Police Station. Since Inspector Tsunekawa of the Metropolitan Police Department happened to be present, he could request comprehensive arrangements. Then, having regained some composure, he stopped by that familiar Rokku police box, but through ill fortune, the handsome officer who had dealt with the Human Leopard had been replaced by another person just moments earlier, leaving no way to inquire about the woman with epilepsy. Had Akechi heard of that strange incident, he would have instantly discerned the situation and formulated an exact investigative strategy—but due to a mere minute or two’s misalignment, it resulted in wholly unforeseen consequences.

Though Inspector Tsunekawa had already arranged the search for Mrs. Fumiyo, someone of Akechi’s stature would never leave his beloved wife’s case entirely in the authorities’ hands. He wandered about, centering on the movie district and letting his feet carry him through main streets and back alleys. This very act proved he had lost his usual composure—after all, he was never originally a detective who relied on legwork.

After some time, he stood idly in front of a certain back-alley greengrocer’s shop. At the storefront lined with vegetables, three or four women who appeared to be neighborhood housewives were shopping. When he suddenly noticed, one of them was talking about something strange.

“That’s what’s strange, you know. They never show their face or figure at all! From my place, I deliver three meals a day. I quietly open the kitchen shutter, place it on the wooden floor, and leave. That’s the strict agreement they made me promise. After a while, they go to retrieve the tray. Then they’d cleanly finish everything, and the empty rice container and tray would be neatly put back in their original spot, you know.” “Oh, how dreadful! And you—have you ever seen that person?”

“But there’s none of that.” “The person who first moved in was quite a respectable gentleman, you know, but…” “But it doesn’t seem to be that person after all.” “Oh my, that sounds downright creepy.” “But how’d you know it’s someone different?”

“I saw the hands， you know.” “I didn’t see the face， but I only saw the hands， you know.”

“What about the hands?” “This morning when I went to get the empty tray and opened the screen—I must’ve been too early—it looked like they’d just finished eating. The screen between the tearoom was slightly open, and through it I saw two hands putting the empty tray out on the wooden floor.” “Those hands—startled by the sound of me opening the screen—jerked back in a flash. Then suddenly they slammed the tearoom screen shut with a smack, and I heard creaking footsteps running upstairs!”

“My, my, they’re going to such lengths to avoid being seen by anyone, aren’t they?” “But you could tell it was a different person just from seeing those hands?” “Yes, I’ve never seen such creepy hands before.” “Darkish and covered in shaggy hair, weirdly sinewy, with long fingers—and at the tips of those fingers were pitch-black nails grown out a good inch.” “The gentleman who first rented that house was never such a person, you know.” “Oh, how dreadful.” “So that person stays shut up at home and never goes out, huh?”

"But it seems they do go out sometimes, you know." "But even when they do go out, they must be sneaking around because I’ve never actually seen them leave. Still, the proof that they’re going out is that before you know it, there end up being two people there, you know." "It seems they’ve dragged in some woman from somewhere, you know." "And isn’t that strange?" "There was a letter sitting on the lunch tray, you know." "They said, ‘Please bring two portions starting from this evening.’" "Are you planning to leave it at that?"

The listening housewife lowered her voice, assumed a serious expression, and inquired. “I’m wondering what to do.” “If we do something careless, there’ll be terrible consequences later.” “But what if that... that thing is actually...” She abruptly leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “If it’s the Human Leopard, that would be disastrous, wouldn’t it?”

Having heard this much was more than enough. Akechi abruptly approached the housewife who had been speaking and announced his real name. Then, since the housewife was well acquainted with the name of the famous detective who had been making headlines lately, the conversation proceeded smoothly. The housewife was from a nearby catering business. The place where the meals were delivered was a small rented house that had been occupied just four or five days prior. It was such a dilapidated shack—its back separated by nothing but a fence from Hanayashiki’s animal shed, with both neighboring buildings serving as storage areas for who-knows-what—making it an unnervingly eerie place overall. This was why it had remained unrented for so long.

The tenant was a respectable bachelor who strictly agreed to three conditions: that the caterer would deliver three meals daily; that whether anyone was home or not, the trays must always be left in a designated spot; and that she must never enter beyond the kitchen under any circumstances. He had paid a month's rent in advance. However, as mentioned earlier, it was said that the current resident was certainly not that gentleman.

“I’ll look into that house for you. If it’s someone suspicious, I’ll turn them over to the police right away. If not, I’ll make sure it doesn’t cause you any trouble. What do you say? Would you show me there?” When Akechi explained this, the housewife promptly agreed and led the way. After securing the landlord’s approval and arriving at the kitchen entrance of the rental house in question, he sent her home. Then alone, with meticulous caution to avoid detection, Akechi quietly infiltrated the building.

The interior of the house stood desolately empty, devoid of both furnishings and human presence. Having completed his silent investigation of the ground floor, he proceeded to the second story. As per the housewife's testimony, the suspicious man appeared to reside on this upper level. When assuming disguises, Akechi Kogoro never neglected his seven essential detective implements. The compact pistol numbered among these crucial tools. Clutching this weapon in his pocket, he ascended the precarious staircase at a snail's pace, ensuring not a single creak betrayed his movement.

But after spending such a long time and finally poking his head above the stairs, he found—to his surprise—that the second floor was just as desolate as below, with no sign of anyone whatsoever. The second floor had only two rooms, but both sides of the open sliding doors appeared completely empty.

Perhaps the suspicious individual had gone out. But they couldn’t have both left. At least one person—specifically the woman—should still be here. No—she must be confined here. As he gradually let his guard down, Akechi crawled across the tatami mats and made his way into the eight-tatami room at the back. A musty room devoid of any furnishings or belongings, faded reddish-brown tatami mats, and beyond the paper screens lay a narrow veranda with its glass doors tightly shut.

Akechi Kogoro intended to go all the way to that veranda and check behind the sliding doors. Had he done so, that incident would never have occurred. However, when he went halfway into the room, an uncanny noise echoed through the air, startling him. It felt like some massive object was writhing somewhere. This was no ordinary rat.

Suddenly, he noticed that the sliding door of the closet on his right was faintly quivering with every sound. There was something inside the closet. Of course, it had to be human. But it was certain that this was not the mysterious figure himself. If it were him, he would have surely noticed Akechi’s intrusion and would not be so careless as to make noises that would alert the enemy.

Then, the person confined within this closet must indeed be that woman. It must be Fumiyo-san—kidnapped by the Human Leopard—dressed in the "Yoitomake" costume.

Akechi could hesitate no longer. As previously mentioned, due to his excessive concern for his beloved wife, he had lost his usual calmness. He abruptly approached the closet and swiftly slid open its door.

And sure enough, there lay a single human bound hand and foot and gagged with a muzzle-like device. But what was truly unexpected—both for Akechi and likely for you readers—was that this was not Fumiyo. It was not a woman but a man. Moreover, it was someone Akechi knew well. The person who had first drawn him into the vortex of this bizarre case—readers will surely remember. That was the pitiful figure of Kamiya, the young man who had been the lover of Egawa Ranko—the Review Girl and former victim.

Even Akechi could not help but be stunned by this preposterous reunion with someone he had never expected to encounter. “Ah—you’re—” He had meant to say *“Isn’t this Kamiya-kun?”* But there was no time to finish. At that moment, the man who had been hiding behind the veranda’s shoji screen—a boxer-like giant in a maroon jacket and khaki pants—swiftly crept up behind Akechi and swung down the club in his hand with tremendous force.

Akechi Kogoro, caught off guard and unable to dodge, received a fierce blow to the crown of his head. A sensation as though heaven and earth were violently shaking—instantly, his field of vision was engulfed in darkness, plunging deeper and deeper into the abyss. He lost consciousness and collapsed on the spot. “Ufufufufufu… Look at you now, Mr. Famous Detective. Ain’t got no spine at all.”

The large man prodded Akechi’s body with his toes while sneering viciously. “Well now, you two seem acquainted.” “Perfect timing—snuggling up here for a cozy nap together, eh?” He produced a thin cord from his preparations, trussed up the detective’s corpse-like form in tight coils, then fashioned a rigorous muzzle by rolling up a hand towel.

“So you’ll just have to endure like this until tomorrow evening.” “By tomorrow evening, everything will be A-OK, you see?” The large man looked down at his two captives and murmured with evident satisfaction.

What exactly did "everything A-OK" signify? Did it mean these two would be disposed of tomorrow evening? Or did it portend something else—something far more dreadful?

What on earth was this large man? Of course, he was undoubtedly one of the Human Leopard’s underlings. But considering they had left their formidable enemy Akechi Kogoro in such a man’s charge, perhaps the Human Leopard himself was occupied with some pressing business. No—it’s not impossible. Dear readers, you are well aware. He was standing guard over the woman in the bear costume. He was keeping watch over the bear cage somewhere else. And without a doubt, he was licking those crimson lips and roaring with laughter, about to commence the dreadful execution at any moment.

Ah, Fumiyo-san’s fate—how would it unfold? The poor woman, unaware that Akechi was enduring such an ordeal, lay trapped inside the cage, enveloped in the dark bear pelt, each moment feeling like an eternity as she desperately awaited the great detective’s miraculous arrival.

Despite this, the famous detective remained in a deep, unending slumber. Not only was he asleep, but he had also been courteously bound so he couldn’t move a muscle. Ah, would he truly be able to fulfill his beloved wife’s expectations? No matter how formidable Akechi’s mental fortitude or how ingenious his strategies might be, overcoming this crisis seemed all but impossible.

Akechi Kogoro! Now was the perfect moment to test your mettle. Crushed, bound—your soul adrift in a darkness beyond this world—this was precisely when you had to marshal every shred of your superhuman resolve and uncanny ingenuity.

Eat or be eaten.

Akechi thrashed about in pitch-black, heavy water. The more he struggled, the deeper he sank into the muddy abyss. He had to save her. Through the black water, he could clearly see Fumiyo-san—stripped naked, her body covered in blood as she screamed and wept. He had to save her quickly—quickly, quickly! But the more he panicked, the deeper into the watery depths he sank. For what felt like an excruciatingly long time, it was a desperate, life-or-death struggle—a sweat-drenched battle between his fierce will and dormant brain cells. Finally, he managed to rise from the pitch-black water to a lighter surface. Suddenly, real sounds returned—an overwhelmingly loud noise that soon revealed itself as his own tinnitus ringing through his skull. Gradually, the ringing subsided until he realized he lay in utter silence save for that residual hum. It wasn't just sound either—when he opened his eyes, pitch-black darkness still enveloped him like an unending nightmare.

Next, he felt an unusual pressure throughout his entire body. He lay in the darkness, unable to move his hands or feet. No—it wasn’t only his movements. He couldn’t even speak. A strange illusion occurred. Am I dead? And am I not buried beneath a heavy tombstone?

But as his consciousness gradually grew clearer, the circumstances became clear to him. The full wretchedness of his current predicament became clear.

It became clear that someone of Akechi Kogoro’s caliber had been bound tightly all over his body, fitted with a hard gag, and was now lying in a pitch-black room devoid of any light.

As he strained his eyes and stared intently, shades gradually began to form within the darkness until the vague shapes of objects became distinguishable. It was likely the same room where he had collapsed earlier—a six-mat tatami space devoid of furniture. When he peered toward the boundary with the adjacent room, he detected signs of life there. Something was breathing. He could faintly perceive squirming movement. Suddenly, he heard it emit a stifled groan... A human. Someone must have been lying there deprived of freedom.

But in an instant, he understood—ah, that was it! Here lay Kamiya Yoshio, bound and confined. During the day, in that moment he had been distracted by Kamiya's unexpected appearance, he must have been struck by that blow and collapsed on the spot. And without his knowing, he too had been caught in the same ropes as Kamiya and left sprawled like this—there could be no doubt.

“Kamiya.”

He had inadvertently called out, but it was nothing more than a miserable groan. It was a gag. It was a gag filling his mouth.

He struggled to at least roll over to Kamiya's side and devise a way to untie the ropes, but since the rope ends appeared fastened to a pillar, the more he struggled, the deeper the bindings bit into his flesh. It was a professional's handiwork. Akechi knew all too well how a single rope could exert tremendous force when handled by a professional. This wasn't a puzzle to solve through wit. Even brute strength proved futile against a professional's knots. He ceased his futile struggles, lay on his back in the least uncomfortable position possible, and shut his eyes.

It was a long, long night. During that time, twice, an unfamiliar large man came up from downstairs, making the ladder steps creak as he checked on the captives. Each time, the light hanging from the ceiling was turned on.

He was a hulking man wearing a gaudy undershirt, standing nearly six feet tall. His face bristled with an unkempt beard that gave him the appearance of a wild bear. There could be no doubt—this was some ruffian hired by the Human Leopard. “Finally awake?” The man peered down at Akechi’s face and spoke with a mocking grin.

“Hmph, looks like you’ve cheated death there, Mr. Detective.” “Well then, sweet dreams.” He mercilessly said such things and turned off the light with a snap.

Eventually, night gave way as bright light began streaming through gaps in the wooden shutters. The room took on the dim glow of twilight. Time dragged on interminably. The guard ascended two or three times after dawnbreak, each time wordlessly scrutinizing the two captives with piercing stares before descending again. In his right hand glinted an ominous pistol that seemed to threaten instant gunfire at any sudden noise. As previously noted, this vacant house occupied an eerily isolated location despite bordering Asakusa Park. Behind it lay a zoo beyond a brick wall; flanking both sides stood derelict structures unfit for habitation; while the front road passed behind a large restaurant rather than tourist thoroughfares. Even had they shouted at full volume, their cries would likely have failed to penetrate both shutters and glass doors to reach potential rescuers. Moreover, both prisoners wore tightly fastened gags. Any attempts at screaming through these restraints would have produced only faint moans akin to a dying man's death rattle.

Eventually, around what seemed to be nearing noon, that same beast-like large man came creaking up the stairs, a pistol in one hand and two milk bottles in the other. “Mr. Detective, and you over there, buddy—I’ve got a little proposition for you two.”

The man squatted in the middle of the room, staring intently down at their faces, and began in a hoarse voice. “I have no intention of letting you die of thirst.” “You must be starving right about now.” “Considering how unexpectedly quiet you’ve been, I’ve decided to treat you to a meal.” “Now listen—just because we’re taking off the gags doesn’t mean you should go making any loud noises.” “Of course, if you try anything like that, this thing here will go *bang* and pay you a visit… not that I’d mind. But even I’d rather avoid killing if I can help it.” “I want to handle this peacefully.” “How about it? Will you swear not to make a sound?” “Do that, and I’ll let you drink this milk.”

Unfortunately, both Akechi and Kamiya were ravenous. They had no choice but to accept the man’s mercy. Moreover, for Akechi, the removal of the gag presented an opportunity to ask this man some things he had been wanting to inquire about. “Hmph, so you’re both saying you won’t make a sound, huh?” “Alright, then I’ll take off those gags now.”

The man lifted them up, leaned their upper bodies against the pillars they were tied to, and removed their mouth gags. "Hahahaha! No need to fret so much." "I won't make any loud noises." "I'd hate for anyone to see me in this wretched state." "If rescuers came now, I'd be the one inconvenienced most." "You've nothing to fear." Akechi spoke these words with an amiable smile, observing how the man never lowered his guard as he kept the pistol trained on them.

“Hmm, I see. “Now that you mention it, that makes sense. “To think someone like Akechi Kogoro would end up like this… Pathetic.” The man spat venomously and lowered his pistol.

“I have two or three things I’d like to ask you, but first, let me drink that. My throat is unbearably dry.” Akechi and Kamiya took the milk bottles one by one from the man’s hand and gulped them down with relish. The young man Kamiya lay utterly exhausted, devoid of even the strength to speak. Only Akechi was doing the talking. “Well, thanks for that. That was good. But first and foremost, I’d like to ask—that woman who called herself the restaurant proprietress and guided me here yesterday must have been one of your comrades, right? By ‘you people,’ I mean you’re part of the Human Leopard’s gang, then.”

When he heard this, the large man sneered at the corner of his lips. “Hmph, did you just notice that now?” “Took you long enough.” “So you were eagerly waiting for help to come all last night, huh?” “Hmph, that’s way too optimistic of you.” In fact, Akechi had found this strange. He had thought that if that proprietress were to find out he had entered this vacant house and never left, she would undoubtedly report it to the police. But seeing that no rescue came no matter how long they waited, he could only conclude that the proprietress herself was part of the gang and had put on an elaborate act to lure Akechi into this vacant house. At that time, even her claim of having obtained the homeowner’s permission must have been a complete fabrication.

“Well, well, she’s quite something. That woman is a brilliant actress.”

Akechi said, overcome with emotion.

“So you were the renter of this place? I thought Onda himself would be here.” “That’s how we staged it. Otherwise the beast wouldn’t have taken the bait. I’m the master here. There’s not even a kitten besides me.” “Just you alone? And you’re not afraid? Bound or not, I’m still Akechi Kogoro.” “Ahahahaha! Scare tactics won’t work. I ain’t alone here. Got another ally—small but hellishly strong. Famous detective or not, I won’t let you twitch a muscle... Reckless bastard’s what I am.”

The man insolently answered, bouncing the small pistol on his palm. “By the way, what exactly do you intend to do with us? What did Onda order you to do? Were you told to kill both of us or something?” Akechi inquired mockingly. “Yeah, looks like it’ll come to that eventually. But not now. Well, seems you’re safe till evening.”

The man bared his teeth and declared hatefully.

“Oh? Until evening?” “Yeah, ’til then, the Human Leopard’s got his hands full with somethin’.” “It’s that whole eat-or-be-eaten business.”

“Eat or be eaten, you say?”

Akechi made a strange face and asked sharply. “Eat or be eaten”—the phrase stirred some memory within him. “Ababababa! Wasn’t I not supposed to say that? “Ah, well... Anyway, the point is you’re safe until evenin’. That’s all there is to it.” “That’s all there is to it.” The man had tried hurriedly to cover it up, but Akechi was not one to carelessly let such significant words go unnoticed. He wondered if that strange phrase might be hinting at the fate of his beloved wife Fumiyo. He couldn’t think otherwise. But what kind of fate?

He stared fixedly into space, as if twisting a drill into the core of his head, frantically trying to recall something.

A long silence continued. He desperately tried to recall a single elusive thought that hovered just beyond his grasp—something nearly remembered yet maddeningly out of reach. The gold-tipped cigarette. But soon, color flooded back into Akechi's pallid face. He must have realized something. In the next instant, terrible anxiety flashed in his eyes. I can't stay like this. Fumiyo-san is in danger. But how could he possibly escape this heavily guarded confinement?

“However, you see, I don’t plan to stay here until evening.”

Suddenly, Akechi broke into a beaming smile and declared. “Hey hey—quit yer empty bluffin’.” “Even if ya ain’t plannin’ on stayin’, I’m the one keepin’ ya here—ain’t a damn thing ya can do ’bout it.”

“This rope, you mean?” “Yeah, well y’see, even if Houdini himself tried, he ain’t gettin’ outta that one.” “And then, that pistol?” “Yeah, that’s right, that’s right. This little pal here’s a real charmer. Snuffin’ you two out ain’t no sweat at all.” “Brr brr brr, ooh, so scary, so scary. Well then, why don’t you just lie there nice an’ quiet?”

Akechi burst into an amused laugh and rolled over to lie down. "You're one creepy bastard... But if you're gonna stay quiet like that, I ain't got no complaints. Now then, this might be a tight fit again, but I'll go ahead and put this back on ya." The man took the tightly rolled hand towel and prepared to reinsert the gag. "Hey, you, before putting that thing in, I've got a favor to ask." Akechi, still grinning, began to speak.

“What?” “You don’t happen to have any cigarettes, do you? When my stomach gets empty, I end up wanting a smoke. While you’re at it, could you let me have one too?” “Cigarettes? Gotta hand it to ya. I’ll say this—you’ve got some nerve sittin’ there all composed like that. Easy enough. But bad luck—I’m fresh out myself. Been dyin’ for a smoke since earlier, but I can’t just leave you lot here to go buy ’em. Tough luck—you’ll have to tough it out.”

“Well, well, that’s a shame… Wait a second.” “Hey, you! There are some here!” “There’s a cigarette case in my inner pocket.” “Should still have two or three left inside.” “Sorry ’bout this—mind reachin’ into this pocket here and pullin’ it out for me?” “’Course I’ll give you one too.” “It’s M.C.C., I tell ya!” “Hmm... M.C.C., you say? Can’t let that slip by.” “Haven’t seen these beauties in ages.” “There there—I’ll get it out for you now.”

The man, who must have been quite the smoker, broke into a grin as he reached into Akechi’s workman’s jacket inner pocket. From the grimy workman’s clothes came a silver cigarette case. Then another item—a large multi-purpose knife—clattered out alongside it. “Oh? You’re carryin’ around somethin’ like this. “Dangerous, dangerous!” “I’ll be takin’ charge of this one here.”

The man placed the multi-purpose knife beside him, then opened the cigarette case with a snap. “Well look at that—gold tips! Ain’t nobody usin’ these anymore.” “And only two lousy ones left!” “Two is fine, isn’t it?” “I’ll take one, and you take one.” “Yeah, fine. Let’s play nice and split one each.” “Could just confiscate both of ’em, but…”

As his manner of speaking up to now made clear, this boxer-like large man appeared to be an unexpectedly good-natured sort for a villain.

He placed a gold-tipped cigarette into the mouth of Akechi, who was lying down, and lit a match for him.

“Oh, much obliged, much obliged. It’s really good.” “Now then, you go ahead and have yours without hesitation.” Akechi puffed out a stream of blue smoke toward the ceiling and cheerfully urged with the cigarette between his lips.

The man, evidently quite the avid smoker, could no longer restrain himself upon catching the pleasant aroma of the smoke. He grabbed one of the gold-tipped cigarettes, lit it, and abruptly began puffing away vigorously. "By the way, you... you don't happen to know something called the Z Circus Troupe, do you?"

Akechi began as if making casual small talk. To anyone watching, it seemed strange—he kept puffing out the M.C.C. smoke without restraint, never once inhaling deeply. His mannerisms didn’t resemble those of someone who had genuinely wanted a cigarette. When he heard “Z Circus Troupe,” the man grew flustered and gave an awkward reply. “I don’t know. Some circus troupe like that.” “Is that so. I thought you probably knew, though…”

Akechi narrowed his eyes and stared intently at the man from between his eyelashes.

The man fell silent and smoked cigarettes incessantly. An overly leisurely conversation at a languid tempo, a scene so cheerful one couldn’t distinguish friend from foe—all these wrapped the room in a listless, tepid air. A drowsy moment passed. “Hahahaha! Well now, boss—looks like it’s finally time to say our goodbyes.” Suddenly, Akechi spat out his half-smoked cigarette and spoke with a low laugh.

But the man was in no state to respond to this outburst. His hand holding the cigarette dangled limply, his mouth hung open vacantly, and there he was, nodding off contentedly in the drowsy haze of spring. He was in the middle of dozing off, nodding repeatedly.

“Mr. Kamiya, greetings can wait.” “We’re saved.” “This guy’s fallen asleep.” Akechi called out to the young man beside him in a voice tense and completely different from before. Exhausted and slumped listlessly from fatigue, Kamiya Yoshio jolted upright at the sound of Akechi’s voice.

“So there was something in that cigarette…”

“That’s right. I have never neglected preparations for emergencies. In my inner pocket, there are always two Westminster or M.C.C. cigarettes laced with a strong anesthetic properly stored, no matter the circumstances. I didn’t inhale a single bit of it. But you see—the boss was so starved for a cigarette that he inhaled it indiscriminately. In an instant, he ended up like this. No matter how much you kick or stomp him, he won’t wake up now.”

“Oh, so that’s how it was.”

Kamiya marveled at the famous detective’s preparations, “But what about these ropes?”

He still wore a dubious expression. Akechi signaled "that" with his eyes, then suddenly dropped to his stomach and began inching toward the Swiss Army knife that the man had earlier pulled from his pocket and placed on the tatami. With great effort, he managed to grasp it in his mouth.

Then, pressing the knife’s handle against a corner of the pillar, he skillfully opened its blade. Gripping the handle firmly between his molars, he began vigorously scraping at the rope binding his own chest.

The Dreaded Beast Troupe Leader In an instant, the tables turned. After painstakingly untying his own ropes, Akechi freed young Kamiya too, then bound up the large man who lay crouched there asleep—winding the cords tightly around him in reverse—and even gagged him with a muzzle. When this was done, Akechi pulled from his right pocket an object he had been itching to examine since earlier. It was none other than— The red advertisement flyer he had crumpled into a ball yesterday after receiving it from a stern-faced bill distributor with a general's mustache, just before losing sight of Mrs. Fumiyo. On that flyer's backside was scrawled in pencil the infamous Human Leopard's challenge.

When the Human Leopard’s henchman had blurted out the strange phrase “eat or be eaten,” he had felt it was a line he’d read somewhere before. Tracing and retracing his fading memory, he had finally arrived at this realization. That phrase was none other than the one printed boldly in primary-sized type on the surface of the red advertisement flyer he had casually crumpled after a single glance. Akechi Kogoro carefully unfolded the crumpled advertisement flyer and verified its contents. There, printed in clumsy copy, was the following text.

Eat or be eaten!! Indian Fierce Tiger vs. Northern Seas Giant Bear: The Great Bloody Battle!! Our Z Circus Troupe shall finally bid farewell to the citizens of Tokyo within days, but as a token of gratitude for your patronage upon this parting, we humbly present—commencing at 1:00 PM on the coming [month/day]—a special extra performance featuring Beast Troup Leader Mr. Daiyama Henry, wherein you may behold the great beastly grappling between an Indian-bred fierce tiger and a giant bear of the northern seas: a battle of "eat or be eaten" that will not rest until blood is shed. As this is a battle between ferocious beasts, it is inevitable that one will be wounded and slain—a grand spectacle of horrifying tragedy that you will never again witness if you miss this single opportunity. We earnestly entreat all citizens to attend and lend their cheers on the appointed day.

To this effect, the upper section of the page bore a large-printed photograph of a bizarre figure, beneath which was noted: “Portrait of World-renowned Beast Troup Leader Mr. Daiyama Henry.” And in the lower left corner, there was even an illustration depicting a great battle between a tiger and a bear. Akechi had been so preoccupied with the challenge on the back yesterday that he hadn’t properly examined the advertisement itself, nor had he paid any attention to the Beast Troup Leader’s photograph. But now, looking closely, he found something strange—the figure presented there as Mr. Daiyama Henry was none other than yesterday’s general-mustachioed bill distributor himself. For a world-renowned Beast Troup Leader to personally shoulder an advertising banner, distribute flyers, and walk through Asakusa’s streets—what an audacious, brazen fraud this was!

Akechi stared holes into the strange photograph until suddenly realizing something. He abruptly thrust the flyer before Kamiya’s eyes and hurriedly questioned him: “Mr. Kamiya, look closely at this photograph.” “Does anything about this photograph strike you?” “Do you recognize this person?”

Kamiya, startled by Akechi’s sudden intensity, took the advertisement flyer in hand and stared at the photograph for a while. “Now that you mention it, I feel like I’ve seen this face somewhere before. But…” “Can’t you recall? Well then, imagine taking off that stiffly upturned black general’s mustache and replacing it with a white mustache and a bushy white beard. Have you ever seen such an old man?” “White mustache, white beard… Oh, that’s it! He looks just like him!”

Kamiya turned pale, aghast. “Is this Onda’s father?” “That’s correct. That’s right. It’s definitely him. But how…” “I had a feeling it might be something like that. I’ve never actually met Onda’s father myself, so I wanted to confirm with you—but it was indeed him. Mr. Kamiya, this guy disguised himself as a bill distributor and was lying in wait for us next to the Asakusa movie theater yesterday. And while this guy lured me into a back alley and kept me occupied by handing over this challenge-like thing, that son of his—the ‘Human Leopard’—snatched away my wife.”

“Ah, so that’s what happened.” “Even your wife… Then we must rescue her quickly!” “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

“Where did they take her—do you have any idea?” “I believe she’s inside this Z Circus Troupe.” Akechi answered, his face pale.

“What? Inside the circus troupe?” “Moreover, I’ve just thought of something dreadful.” “Ha ha ha ha—it’s nothing. Perhaps I’m developing a touch of neurasthenia.” “But if by chance... oh, how horrifying...”

Akechi Kogoro, of all people—what manner of terror, what manner of dread was this?

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Kamiya Yoshio peered worriedly at the detective’s face. “No, don’t ask now. Even speaking of it terrifies me. But I must hurry—will I make it in time?” Akechi checked his wristwatch. Fortunately, it had not been damaged and still kept time.

“It’s 1:05 PM.” “We can’t stay here.” “Kamiya, I’ll explain everything later.” “Please come with me.” No sooner had he spoken than he was already rushing down the ladder. Kamiya Yoshio followed behind. When they emerged outside, they hurried to Asakusa Park and called from the public telephone at its entrance—the destination being none other than the K Police Station’s investigation headquarters. Fortunately, Inspector Tsunekawa happened to be present and answered the call. After quickly coordinating with him regarding Fumiyo’s whereabouts, the Human Leopard’s base of operations, and their plan of attack, Akechi rushed out of the phone booth, dashed to the main street, and hailed a taxi.

Z Circus Troupe

In a southwestern corner of greater Tokyo—M Town, where urban life encroached upon rural farmlands, churning together citizens, farmers, and small factory workers—there had existed for about a month a large circus occupying a dusty square famed for its antique market. Its name was the Z Circus Troupe. On the front of this troupe’s great tent, an ominous illustrated signboard had been erected since yesterday. Across a billboard spanning three bays square, garish tempera paints depicted a gruesome scene: a ferocious tiger with yellow hide adorned in beautiful black rosettes and an enormous jet-black bear, both reared on hind legs. Crimson maws gaped wide, snow-white fangs interlocked as razor claws sank into flesh—a blood-drenched death grapple frozen in paint.

“They say the tiger and bear’ll fight till one dies.” “Eat or be eaten—that’s how it goes.”

The crowd before the illustrated billboard grew steadily larger as the terrifying spectacle's scheduled time of 1:00 PM approached. "Hurry now, hurry! The tiger and bear's deathmatch is about to begin! "If you miss this, you'll never see it again!" "A story to tell your grandchildren!" At the ticket gate, a man in a short happi coat stood bellowing, his face flushed crimson from exertion.

At that ticket gate was a steady stream of shuffling entrants. Upon entering, beyond the usual spectator seats, temporary seating with straw mats spread out across even the circus arena stretched as far as the eye could see—heads, heads, heads, a tightly packed crowd. They fell utterly silent, their hearts throbbing with anticipation for the bizarre spectacle about to begin. On the elevated stage at the front, a faded velvet curtain hung nonchalantly, concealing the passionate creatures that must have been lurking behind it. The reddish-brown curtain bore a massive letter Z in gold braid, standing out prominently.

“Gong... gong... gong...” A sudden deafening crash of the gong. A wave of murmuring swept through the audience like rustling rice stalks. Coughs erupted sporadically. Then all fell utterly silent beneath the vast tent—still as stagnant water. The curtain slid upward smoothly.

At the center of the stage stood a bizarre figure—a crimson velvet jacket adorned with imposing gold braid, matching trousers, a similarly gleaming velvet hat, his attire identical to that of a Spanish bullfighter. Moreover, right in the center of the man’s face was an astonishingly magnificent jet-black general’s beard—so impeccably groomed that its tips flipped out beyond his ears—which bobbed up and down each time he spoke. This was none other than Mr. Ōyama Henry, the Beast Troup Leader himself.

He was toying with a beast-taming whip in both hands while proclaiming his introductory remarks in a pompous tone befitting his general’s beard. “...Now at last, we shall tightly press together those two cages over there, open the door between them, and unite tiger and bear as one!” At the rear of the stage where he pointed with his whip, two wheeled cages stood dimly visible in the depths. In one cage, a fierce tiger paced sluggishly back and forth between narrow iron bars, occasionally unleashing a terrifying roar of “Uwoo!” In the other cage cowered an enormous black bear—easily twice the tiger’s size—that appeared utterly spineless, trembling uncontrollably in its corner as if paralyzed by terror of its opponent.

“The bear is indeed a cowardly creature. “But, ladies and gentlemen of the audience, there is absolutely no need for concern.” “Though he may appear so, when he actually faces an enemy attack, he will immediately reveal his true nature and rise up fiercely indeed.” “The bear will likely first employ a forceful initial strike.” “And the tiger will sink low, fully wielding its sharp fangs and claws.” “Now, as they grapple for some time, one of the beasts is certain to be wounded. Ah, once they see blood—ravenous for flesh as they are—their ferocity shall intensify tenfold, and they will not cease until they tear out their foe’s throat with a sickening crunch!”

The bearded beast tamer paused his speech there for a moment and, as if to gauge the effect of his oratory, quietly surveyed the venue. “Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, you are indeed most fortunate! You shall now witness in vivid detail the hair-raising spectacle of a beast worth ten thousand yen per head being wounded, felled, its hide torn, flesh devoured, and reduced to mere bones. No, no, ladies and gentlemen—that is not all! The beasts shall weep and wail. They shall flee about in madness. Ah, just like humans—like some frail, beautiful woman—they shall plead for help while weeping and wailing. What ghastly spectacle shall unfold before your very eyes? Horrifying, gruesome, bizarre, and uncanny—a spectacle so ghastly it shall surpass even your darkest imaginings!”

The bearded beast tamer muttered something incomprehensible. Was it merely an exaggeration to frighten the audience? Or did his strange words conceal some truly terrifying meaning? “Now, let us conclude this lengthy introduction and present for your viewing the bloody battle between beasts—a fight to devour or be devoured!” Holding his whip at a slant and making a pretentious bow, the gold-trimmed beast tamer withdrew to the corner of the stage and signaled to the stagehands.

“Bong... bong... bong...” Once again, the resounding gong reverberated. The eight men who had rushed onto the stage divided into four per cage, rolled them rumblingly forward to the front of the stage, fit the cages tightly together, and secured them with sturdy metal fixtures. Mr. Ōyama Henry once again stepped forward and gave a polite bow. Then, by the hands of the men, the two doors between the cages were raised with a clatter. In an instant, the two cages became one.

Akechi Kogoro and the young man Kamiya hailed a taxi on the main street beside Asakusa Park exactly at that moment.

“It’s the three-way fork in M District. I’ll pay whatever it takes. Get me there in five minutes.” As soon as Akechi got into the car, he barked at the driver.

“Five minutes?! “No can do, that’s impossible. “No matter how fast I drive, it’ll take ten minutes at least.” But the driver was a young man who looked quick on his feet. “You can ignore speed limits. “I work with the police. “You won’t face any consequences.” “But even if I floor it downtown, traffic’ll block the way!”

The driver shouted back while accelerating. “Alright then, there’s a bonus involved. Ten yen for every car you overtake ahead.” “Ten yen? Got it. But sir, there’s no telling how many dozens of cars I’ll have to pass! And no saying later it was just a joke, got it?”

The car instantly shot forward like an arrow.

The people on the streets streamed past like a raging torrent flowing backward. Ah, one after another—trains, cars, trucks—they passed by and were left behind. He had ignored traffic signals at intersections more than once or twice. "Hey, stop right there!"

The bright red face of the police officer, who stood shouting with arms spread wide, swiftly grew smaller and smaller as it receded into the distance.

On the stage, inside the combined cage, the two beasts continued their standoff. Though called a standoff, the bear maintained its prior posture—head hung low, crouched motionless, as lifeless as a corpse. In stark contrast, the fierce tiger swirled its long tail with expressive twists while lowering its head, coiling its body, and growling a deep, rumbling prelude to the attack. "Bear! Bear! Pull yourself together!"

A bizarre shout arose from one corner of the audience seats. "Tiger, take it down!" "There! Leap at it!"

Another cheer resounded in an outlandish voice. Yet the beasts refused to be goaded, remaining motionless as they continued their standoff. Still, one could sense the tiger's growl gradually growing louder and louder. From spectators who could no longer contain themselves, a roar like raging torrents finally erupted. "Go on... go on..." "Finish it off...!" "Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho..." Before the beasts could act, the crowd had already whipped itself into frenzy. Beneath the great tent now seethed a crucible of sweat-drenched fervor.

The fierce tiger, which had been biding its time without moving, could not remain unaffected by this commotion. In an instant, he contracted his body like a bow, then transformed into a massive bullet and lunged at the bear.

“Whoa…!” As the shouts rose, the entire audience leaped to their feet. But what an anticlimax. The bear offered no resistance at all. Knocked down heavily by the tiger’s blow, it ended up lying on its back with all four limbs in the air. “Bear! Get it together!” The tiger, seemingly intimidated by its opponent’s lack of resistance, retreated back to its original position, assumed a stance for a second assault, and intently watched the enemy’s movements. Then, at that moment, the great bear—which until then had seemed as though it were either asleep or dead—began feebly moving its limbs while still lying on its back. And when it finally managed to right itself properly and stared fixedly at the tiger—ah, what was this?—the bear began struggling pitifully to escape through the cage bars as though its very mind had snapped. At that very moment, a faint, ever so faint spine-chilling woman’s scream spread through the audience seats from somewhere.

But the frenzied spectators had not yet noticed that scream. For it was far too faint a voice to be heard amidst the commotion. When the bear realized it couldn't escape the cage, it suddenly rose onto its hind legs and began jumping and leaping about in a mad dance. While dancing, it ran wildly in every direction within the cramped cage. All the while, the eerie woman's scream would cease only to continue again. Cry after cry continued, each one growing more sorrowful.

“Hey, ain’t there a woman crying somewhere?” “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve been wondering about that strange sound too.” Amidst the commotion of the spectator seats, hushed whispers were exchanged here and there. For a while, the fierce tiger seemed to have forgotten its attack, taken aback by the bear’s mad antics—but it did not remain still for long. Not only that, but the enemy’s frenzied antics served as a potent stimulant, further igniting his fighting spirit.

“Rrroooaaar…” No sooner had a single ghastly roar resounded than the tiger launched its second assault like an arrow. Yellow and black became a single mass in an instant, tumbling around and around inside the cage.

“Wow! Wow!”

The shouts rose, but weaving through them, the pitiful woman’s scream from earlier pierced through to the very depths of the spectators’ ears—shrill and piercing, high-pitched and thin. Ah, what kind of woman could be wailing like that—and where was she? At moments, it seemed as though the pitiful bear itself was crying out for rescue, making them hallucinate that its roars had transformed into a human woman’s screams. Yet surely that hulking beast couldn’t possibly produce such youthful feminine sobs.

"Screeeech"

With a screeching brake sound that resembled a scream, the car carrying Akechi and the others came to a sudden halt. “Tch, how considerate of them to send a freight train.” The driver clicked his tongue resentfully, and understandably so. Before them stretched a long black-and-yellow striped railroad crossing gate, beyond which a pitch-black locomotive wheezed and panted as it pulled dozens upon dozens of long freight cars, clanking and clattering past as if it hadn’t a care in the world.

“Oh no. Kamiya, our luck’s run out. Look here—it’s already quarter past one. We might not make it in time.”

Akechi’s face turned deathly pale, his eyes bloodshot, as he groaned out these words.

But the young man Kamiya didn’t fully grasp the meaning of this. "I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now—where exactly are we going? When you say we won’t make it in time—what exactly won’t we make it to?" "My wife’s life is hanging by a thread. She’s being killed! For a detective to not even be able to save his own wife… Dammit! No matter what it takes, I’ll save her!" He declared with burning hostility, but the next moment, he had once again crumbled under anxiety and impatience.

"Ah, but it might be hopeless… This long, long freight train might very well symbolize my cursed luck."

Beautiful Half-Human, Half-Beast

On the circus stage, crack after crack, the whip resounded. Beside the cage glittered a single golden object. That was the strikingly bullfighter-like costume of the renowned Beast Troup Leader, Mr. Oyama Henry. Each time his right hand swished through the air, the crack of the whip—forcing the bloodthirsty beasts into an even wilder frenzy—resounded and flapped above the cage.

“Mr. Tiger! Mr. Tiger! What are you dawdling for? Finish it off! Kill it!” A drunkenly booming voice echoed through the air. “Crush it…” “Pull yourself together…” These shrill voices swelled like a chorus.

But what was strangely unendurable was how—threading through those roars—the intermittent screams of a woman that seemed utterly out of place in that scene kept echoing from nowhere with an ominous sense of imminent death. The two beasts that had been tumbling wildly within the cage as a tangled ball of yellow and black suddenly sprang apart. With that, the large bear—as if having fainted—lay collapsed in an ungainly heap without moving. The tiger appeared to leap in and retreat entirely of its own accord. If the fierce tiger were likened to a cat, then the bear—twice its size—was nothing more than a mouse. He cowered, utterly at the tiger’s mercy.

With glowing blue eyes, the tiger paced in circles around the large defeated creature, gazing at it as though relishing its victory. As it walked, it flung open its crimson maw and roared like a tempest. The Beast Troup Leader’s supple whip cracked repeatedly, each strike imbued with intent. That sound—utterly unlike anything heard before, resembling the eerie whistle of a strange flute slicing through the air—drove the spectators to the pinnacle of frenzy. A frenzied roar surged tsunami-like toward the stage cage.

The tiger's eyes grew increasingly ferocious in their gleam with each passing moment. The ugly wrinkles around its mouth twisted even more hideously, even more repulsively. And the bloodthirsty white fangs seemed to gradually increase in both length and sharpness. It happened with a swiftness too fast for the eye to follow. The tiger's fangs sank into the throat of the bear that lay on its back, struggling. The powerful shoulder muscles swelled massively as the thick neck shook from side to side like steel machinery.

“Whoa, it got him!” With that, the spectators once again rose to their feet in unison. Cheers for the defeated bear shook the great tent for a time. But the bear, spinelessly, remained utterly unresisting. What a cowardly beast. The spectators, who had been waiting with bated breath for the bear to finally unleash its fury, couldn’t help but be utterly disappointed by this turn of events.

“Hey you! This is weird! That bear’s throat has been torn so badly—there’s not a single drop of blood coming out—isn’t there?”

A murmur like that could be heard from among the spectators in the front row. Indeed, not a single drop of blood was flowing from the bear’s throat. The tiger’s fangs had sunk into the crescent-shaped area of the bear’s throat, and with each shake of its head, the skin there visibly ripped apart with a sickening tear—yet there was no sign of blood flowing out. It was truly nothing short of bizarre. Was that a stuffed bear? No, no, that couldn’t be. Could a stuffed animal struggle and run around like that?

But the strangeness did not end there. Before long, a strange stir arose among the spectators in the front row. The hundreds of eyes focused on the bear’s throat began emitting a madly glaring light. All of them were on the verge of madness. They were struck by an indescribable shudder, as though trapped in a terrifying nightmare. “What is it? Huh? What on earth is that?”

A merchant-like man in the front row clung to the young man next to him, trembling violently as he muttered. Here and there, horrified murmurs welled up. Behold—around the bear’s throat, the epidermis torn by sharp fangs peeled back with a sickening tear as the tiger’s jaw retreated, did it not? Moreover, not a single drop of blood flowed, nor did any red flesh appear; instead, from beneath emerged—unexpectedly, shockingly—something pure white, no, rather pallid and smooth, inch by inch exposed to the spectators’ eyes.

The tiger, finding the bear’s skin peeling away with unexpected ease, continued backing away rapidly, innocently amused by this development. Then, under that force—as though a seam had been pre-cut—the bear’s skin tore straight down from throat to chest, chest to belly. As it ripped apart, the white smooth thing inside the hide grew rapidly larger with each inch of exposure.

The spectators who had risen to their feet no longer even coughed, remaining motionless as if turned to stone. In stark contrast to the earlier uproar, under the big tent, everything fell deathly silent as if in a faint. Only greasy sweat seeped slowly from their countless palms.

In front of the car carrying Akechi Kogoro and young Kamiya, the long, long freight train finally managed to pass. The striped railroad crossing barrier smoothly rose into the sky, and the waiting cluster of cars and bicycles began moving, jostling to take the lead.

“Tch! Made me wait a full three minutes, damn it.” The driver clicked his tongue and stepped on the starter. With a grinding, harsh noise, gasoline smoke billowed into the car. Then the car pushed aside those bothersome bicycles as it crossed the uneven railroad tracks. Akechi stared fixedly ahead with a pale face and remained silent. His entire body trembled violently—not just from the car’s vibrations. The right hand that had been thrust into his pocket flew out onto his knee almost unconsciously. That hand clutched a Colt pistol so tightly it glistened with sweat.

The young man Kamiya glanced sideways at this sinister weapon, stared fixedly, but said nothing. He remembered how, earlier, when Akechi had tied up the Human Leopard's subordinate—a large man—he had taken this pistol from his pocket and slid it into Akechi’s own.

The car once again accelerated to a terrifying speed, overtaking the cars ahead one by one.

As far as the eye could see stretched a flat, straight highway. In the distant sky beyond, an ad balloon floated buoyantly like a jellyfish in the atmosphere, visible as a small shape. Beneath the round balloon, something like red dotted specks fluttered. They must be advertising text. But the car was moving at breakneck speed. In moments, those red specks appeared as small as 7-point type, then gradually grew to 8-point, 9-point, until they had enlarged enough to be clearly legible even from the swaying car.

“Beasts’ Grand Melee—Z Circus Troupe”

Ah, that was the ad balloon of the Z Circus Troupe they had been aiming for. There was no doubt that beneath that balloon, a tent-show attraction was being performed.

Inside the stage cage, the bear’s pelt had nearly peeled off completely. As effortlessly as peeling an orange—with no resistance at all—just what in the world had begun here? The hushed crowd could no longer trust their own eyes. Was this truly happening now? Or were they witnessing some sort of preposterous hallucination? Could such an absurd, extraordinary event really occur in the real world?

Inside the cage, even the very tiger that had caused this extraordinary event was left dumbfounded—or rather, seized by fear—having fled to one corner where it now cowered, frozen in place.

There, in the center of the cage, stood a specter-like figure—its upper half pure white and lower half jet-black—erect and motionless. But how seductively beautiful this specter was! The white, smooth thing that had emerged from within the bear’s pelt was indeed human skin. Moreover, it was the skin of a young and beautiful woman. Disheveled hair, a tear-drenched face, her chest and arms—her upper body was completely exposed. Fortunately, however, the thick bear pelt remained stubbornly clinging to her lower body, so the woman was spared from exposing her shame above that. After all, the bear was also a stuffed specimen. It was nothing more than a fabricated object that enveloped a living, beautiful woman.

However, the spectators, their souls stolen by this daytime apparition, could not immediately realize what it was. If there were such a thing as a land mermaid, this was literally it. They could perceive it only as a hybrid of beauty and beast—a strangely beautiful half-human, half-beast specter. The beautiful specter smiled seductively. No—with her mouth shaped as if smiling, she was screaming through tears. Until she first stood up, she had been unconscious due to the anesthetic, but when she suddenly awoke, what was reflected in the two glass eyes of the bear costume was a ferocious tiger lunging toward her. She became half-crazed and fled about in confusion. While fleeing about in confusion, she cried out for help. The crying voice from within that headpiece felt as if it came from far away, and since earlier, it had been imparting an uncanny unease to the spectators.

Some in the crowd realized it, while others did not. However, what they all uniformly recalled was Mr. Oyama Henry’s strange proclamation from earlier.

“Beasts cry and scream.” “They go mad, fleeing about in confusion.” “Ah, just as if it were human—as if it were a delicate, beautiful woman—it screams and pleads for help.” “What exquisitely ghastly spectacle will unfold before you, ladies and gentlemen.” “Horror unparalleled! Cruelty unmatched! Wonder inconceivable! Mystery unspeakable! A scene beyond even your wildest nightmares!”

They recalled there had been some utterly bizarre, unintelligible phrases of that sort. That was it. So that was what it had meant. Then indeed—the bear pelt being peeled off and the beauty bursting forth from within—all of it must have been planned in advance. They had advertised it with blustering slogans like "Eat or Be Eaten," but in truth, displaying this seductive farce might have been the true inspiration behind this attraction's concept.

But what a splendid actress this female beast tamer was, disguised as a half-human, half-beast! And how terrifyingly realistic that expression! And what of the beauty in that soprano’s weeping voice?

The spectators were already enthralled. They could not even speak. They had even forgotten to clap. Gulping repeatedly, eyes wide and mouths agape, they were mesmerized by the leading actress’s life-risking act. Thus began the astonishingly terrifying dance of the alluring half-human, half-beast. Her legs staggered, her chest heaved with violent breaths, and her voice had already turned hoarse. “Help me… Help me…” Her eyes bulging in fear, a scream for salvation burst forth from her very core.

The ferocious tiger could not remain cowered forever. He finally stood up from the corner and began circling warily around the beautiful human-beast. The naked woman thrust both hands forward defensively, turned her face toward the tiger's path, and spun unsteadily as she staggered. She no longer had strength to scream. She could not tear her eyes from the terrifying beast. Like a mouse transfixed by a cat, she lacked power to avert her gaze from the opponent's dreadful visage.

The circle traced by the tiger grew steadily tighter. And when it occasionally stopped, it would raise its front leg as if to tease and attempt to touch the woman’s body. Each time, a blood-curdling scream reverberated through the spectators’ very souls. After repeating this many times, finally, the tiger’s sharp claws grazed the beauty’s shoulder. Fresh blood oozed out instantly and slickly slid down the pale skin. And that long, yarn-like crimson made the whiteness of the half-human, half-beast’s skin stand out so vividly it could jolt one awake.

Laughter exploded across the vast sky. The spectators remained utterly hushed. Beneath the great tent, silence had fallen like a graveyard. Yet within that stillness, a ghostly, ferocious suspicion seemed to begin drifting—a phantom taking form.

“Is this really part of the act?” “Could an act permit such terrifyingly realistic expressions?” “No matter how commercialized this is, common sense dictates no one could endure such wounds on beautiful skin without flinching.” “Perhaps she’s no beast tamer—just some amateur girl.” “Then—good God—what horrific thing have they started here?” “Isn’t this murder unfolding before a massive crowd?” “And isn’t this the cruelest slaughter imaginable—toying with her life inch by inch under a beast’s fangs?”

Just as that discernment had begun to vaguely stir in the spectators’ minds, a man’s laughter suddenly rained down from somewhere high above. It was a dry, desiccated laugh—rasping yet brazenly boisterous. 1,100 faces turned upward in unison toward the ceiling.

On the ceiling hung a whitish tent like an overcast sky. Directly beneath it, logs bound with rough rope crisscrossed in chaos. Perched on one log like a solitary sparrow was a human figure. He gazed down at the tragic spectacle on stage and laughed uproariously, as though unbearably amused by the sight. Though the man's face remained indistinct at that distance, the crowd couldn't miss how his round eyes blazed with an eerie blue light like some beast's. Phosphorescent eyes. At last, he had revealed himself.

When the crowd saw this, they could not help but plunge into an even more frenzied madness. The timid among them felt an overwhelming urge to flee headlong from the tent. In the stage cage, the beautiful half-human creature had now exhausted all vitality and lay collapsed without moving. She must have lost consciousness. Even as the tiger's snout pressed right before her eyes, she neither uttered a sound nor stirred. Upon her white wax-like skin coiled a stream of blood like a crimson serpent.

The Beast Troup Leader standing beside the cage had a face dusky black with agitation, his great general’s mustache trembling with fury, and his round eyes bloodshot crimson. He continued swinging the whip in his hand madly through the air. The whoosh, whoosh of the storm-like roar agitated the blood-starved tiger all the more. No sooner had it let out a single thunderous roar toward the spectators than it suddenly lunged both front legs onto the chest of the collapsed beauty and attempted to sink its fangs into her throat—this time aiming squarely for the throat of a living human.

Crunch—with just one contraction of the neck and jaw muscles, it would all be over. A single human life was about to be extinguished.

Among the spectators, there was not a single person who considered this to be part of the act. Thousands of faces instantly lost their color and involuntarily averted their eyes from the stage. They could not bring themselves to look directly at the excessively gruesome spectacle about to unfold. The female guests covered their eyes with both hands.

Readers, thus did our heroine Akechi Fumiyo’s life hang on a single contraction of the ferocious tiger’s muscles. As you have already surmised, readers, the Human Leopard parent and child had kidnapped the beautiful Mrs. Akechi, clad her in a bear pelt, and were audaciously attempting to carry out a demonic lynching—gruesome to behold—before the public’s very eyes. The “Human Leopard” clung to the ceiling log. Onda and his father—the latter disguised as Beast Troup Leader Oyama Henry and brandishing a whip—exchanged a furtive glance from several yards above and below, nodding in mutual understanding that their scheme had succeeded. And the father’s whip cracked ever louder, while the Human Leopard’s laughter grew ever more brazen.

At that very moment. The spectators felt a momentary impulse that seemed to pierce through the very core of their skulls. Huh? What’s happening? Ah, she must have been killed. While imagining the tiger’s jaws smeared with fresh blood yet driven by morbid curiosity, they turned their averted eyes toward the stage in unison.

Then, what on earth had happened here? The one that had been killed was not the human, but the tiger. He lay collapsed, a single stream of blood dripping from the crown of his head. He no longer had the strength to struggle. He had likely breathed his last in an instant. The beautiful half-human, half-beast remained unconscious, but having sustained no injuries other than the scratches on her shoulder, had narrowly escaped the tiger’s jaws.

The laughter from atop the log stopped abruptly. Mr. Oyama Henry’s whip fell still. He stared blankly at the spectators, utterly bewildered.

Then, within his line of sight, a figure came pushing through the crowd. It was Akechi Kogoro in workman's clothes. It was Kamiya Yoshio. And then a contingent of uniformed and plainclothes police officers. Needless to say, the master marksman who had shot the ferocious tiger at the critical moment was Akechi. From the Colt pistol gripped in his right hand, lingering white smoke was faintly rising.

The police officers following him were the advance team from K Police Station, arranged by Inspector Tsunekawa through Akechi’s phone call. When Akechi arrived at the entrance of the Z Circus Troupe, they had already gotten out of the car and were waiting in ambush for his arrival.

“It’s Mr. Akechi!” “It’s Mr. Akechi!” Though disguised, the crowd’s keen eyes lived up to their reputation—voices praising the great detective arose from somewhere in the spectator seats. Through newspaper reports, they knew full well about the conflict between Akechi Kogoro and the “Human Leopard.” They had just read that morning’s paper about the kidnapping of Mrs. Akechi. With Detective Akechi arriving alongside such an imposing police contingent, there could be no doubt whatsoever that the mysterious “Human Leopard” was lurking within this tent. No—more than that—the beautiful woman about to become tiger prey in that cage could only be Mrs. Akechi Fumiyo. Ah, what a horrifying scene they had stumbled upon! The sharper-witted among them instantly comprehended the truth and couldn’t suppress their trembling.

The Human Leopard’s father—disguised as Oyama Henry—paled upon recognizing Akechi and made to flee, but the swift police squad allowed no such opening, storming onto the stage to encircle him. Then, proving himself the consummate old monster, he sharply straightened from his cowering stance and let out a soundless laugh that set his general’s mustache quivering. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slipped a hand into his trouser pocket, drew out a compact pistol, and leveled it at the officers’ faces.

By then, the venue had fallen into tsunami-like chaos. The crowd swarming the entrance howled; an old man pinned beneath a human domino collapse wailed; women and children shrieked—and amidst that cacophony, a single roar rose above the rest, reverberated everywhere.

“It’s the Human Leopard!” “The Human Leopard’s over there!” “Ah, he’s escaped! The Human Leopard’s gotten out onto the roof!” “The Human Leopard’s escaped onto the roof!” Looking up, they saw the owner of that earlier laughter racing across the crisscrossed ceiling logs like a black cat, moving faster than the eye could follow. Sometimes climbing vertically, sometimes sliding diagonally, sometimes tightrope walking horizontally—traversing from log to log along the ceiling beams—he finally emerged onto the roof through a tear in the tent.

Across the translucent white canvas, a strange black shadow—indistinguishable as either animal or human—curled up and ran as if flying, as if leaping.

Now, every last member of the remaining crowd in the venue became an enemy of the "Human Leopard." They raised their voices in unison and jeered at the fleeing demon. The impatient men, two or three at a time, bravely began climbing the log beams to chase the "Human Leopard." The Z Circus Troupe members were not about to be left behind either. Four or five stagehand youths and aerial acrobats, having received instructions from Akechi Kogoro, scrambled up toward the ceiling like monkeys.

The Z Circus Troupe and the "Human Leopard" father and son had no particularly deep connection. The parent-child pair with two beasts had simply claimed Western training and applied for temporary membership under terms highly advantageous to the Z Circus Troupe; unaware they were murderers, the troupe had merely approved their application and handled publicity accordingly. Thus, every member of the Z Circus Troupe now stood firmly opposed to the "Human Leopard."

“Go around to the outside! Go around to the outside! The Human Leopard’s going to jump off the roof and escape!” Even without needing to be informed by the crowd’s shouts, Akechi had already made the arrangements. Part of the police squad and the men from the Z Circus Troupe rushed outside the tent and deployed a skirmish line around the hut. Akechi himself also attempted to follow them outside. He wanted to stand in the square outside and monitor the pursuit unfolding on the roof. But no sooner had he hurried toward the entrance than a gunshot suddenly rang out from the stage behind him, followed by an explosion of fierce curses from the crowd.

As he turned around with a start, a tragedy had already concluded before his eyes. The bullfighter with the imposing general's mustache was bleeding from his gold-braided chest and had collapsed in an ungainly heap. With the very pistol he had used to threaten the encircling officers, he had shot through his own chest. Perhaps having realized his luck had run out, the demon met an end too honorable for his ilk. Just then, another squad of police officers came rushing in through the entrance. "Oh, Akechi! Is your wife alright?"

Inspector Tsunekawa, who was at the head of the group, was the first to ask that. “Yeah, just made it in time.” Akechi jerked his chin toward one side of the stage. There, Mrs. Fumiyo—rescued from the cage by the Z Circus Troupe members—still lay unconscious atop a stacked pile of zabuton cushions.

"But unfortunately, one of the criminals committed suicide."

“Ah, there he lies collapsed… So that’s Onda’s old man.”

“That’s right. He was disguised as a beast tamer.”

"And what about the son?" "He fled onto the roof. Look at that." At the ceiling of the large tent Akechi pointed to, the pursuers scrambled about in confusion, their tangled forms resembling bizarre shadow puppets.

“Let’s go outside.”

Akechi, Inspector Tsunekawa, and the newly arrived police officers hurriedly exited through the entrance and rushed to the square behind the show tent. There, police officers who had been deployed earlier, circus troupe members, and spectators left behind formed a massive, seething crowd. Akechi and the others stood on a slightly elevated spot behind the crowd and watched the fierce pursuit unfolding across the sloping surface of the tent roof. The "Human Leopard," clad in a jet-black suit, had reverted to his true nature—crawling on all fours—as he recklessly bounded across the vast tent's white expanse. But among his pursuers were two or three acrobatic masters whose skills rivaled any beast's. Moreover, while only one man fled, nearly ten gave chase. Even the formidable "Human Leopard" found himself gradually—inexorably—being driven toward the roof's edge.

“Well, it looks like his luck’s finally run out.” “Either he jumps down, or else...” At the very moment Inspector Tsunekawa muttered this, as if he had predicted it, the black leopard in the sky made a magnificent leap from the edge of the roof.

The black body on all fours contracted like an inchworm, and no sooner had it done so than it suddenly stretched out, tracing a magnificent arc through the air. When they saw this, the crowd on the ground let out a collective “Whoa!” and began scrambling back, but strangely, no matter how much time passed, the black leopard never came crashing down.

“Ah! The balloon!” “He’s escaping to the balloon!”

At someone’s bellowed command, the crowd looked up at the sky again in unison. And then—what do you know? Of all the places to flee, the Human Leopard had clung to the ad balloon’s rope and was now dangling in midair outside the roof. The advertising balloon, swaying in the wind, floated its massive silver form in the distant sky. Beneath the balloon, crimson characters reading “Great Beast Grappling… Z Circus Troupe” fluttered in the wind, while a single rope streaming smoothly down from them extended all the way to the winch for balloon ascents—precisely at the corner of the square where Akechi and the others stood.

“Turn the winch! Turn the winch!”

Shouting, people rushed to the winch. Three, four, five of them joined forces and began reeling in the advertising balloon’s rope with rhythmic chants of “Heave-ho! Heave-ho!” Alas, even the unparalleled murderer known as the Human Leopard had no means of escape left. As the winch spun, the balloon’s rope rapidly shortened. And when the balloon was finally lowered to the ground, even the Human Leopard could not escape his fate of arrest. The grand climax of this great manhunt was now mere minutes away—five, perhaps three—from its arrival.

But the Human Leopard, clinging to the rope, climbed relentlessly upward. For every shaku the winch reeled in, he climbed another shaku upward. And even when the gigantic balloon had been lowered until it grazed the tent roof, the Black Leopard still hovered in his original position midair. He had already climbed past the four characters of "Z Circus Troupe" and was now clinging near the character for "Great" in "Great Grappling". "Hey! Don't make us waste our effort! Hurry up and come down!"

The police officers on the ground, frustrated by their fruitless efforts, called out to the criminal in midair. “Bwahahaha! You lot should cease your futile efforts!”

A response from the sky, carried off by the wind, could faintly be heard. “Ah, Mr. Akechi, so Mr. Tsunekawa is there too. “Well done.” “But you’re just going to keep wasting your efforts, I tell you.” The Human Leopard hung before the red character for “Great,” hurling brazen insults.

“Idiot! I’ll hear your complaints properly later. Hurry up and come down! You’ll die wretchedly!” The police officers fired back defiantly. “Bwahahaha! You think you’ve caught me?” “Hahaha! What a joke! Why, you ask? Because I’ll never be caught!” As they shouted, a glint flashed in Onda’s right hand midair—a large knife. The instant they saw it slash violently across the rope near his waist, the cord snapped clean through. No sooner had it severed than the balloon—until then held down by the winch and several men’s strength—soared skyward like a cannonball.

“Bwahahaha! Akechi-kun, so long! “Mr. Tsunekawa, so long!” “Bwahahaha!” Along with the soaring balloon, the demon’s roaring laughter vanished into the distant sky with a trailing whoosh. For a while, the small black figure clinging to the silver balloon with one hand and both legs could be seen waving vigorously toward the crowd on the ground, but eventually that too vanished from sight, leaving only a silver object about the size of a rubber ball to be seen drifting with the wind through gaps in the white clouds toward Tokyo Bay.

The following day, fishing boats from the Sagami Peninsula discovered a silver monster resembling a giant octopus floating far offshore. Upon investigation, it was confirmed to be the Z Circus Troupe’s advertising balloon, but the Human Leopard— No report was ever received that Onda's corpse had washed up on any coast. Did he vanish into the seaweed debris of the ocean floor, taking both the balloon and his ill fate with him? Or had fate intervened—had he been rescued by some passing ship, even now lurking in some forgotten corner of this world, those phosphorescent eyes gleaming as he plotted fresh atrocities?

But for over a year after that, we heard nothing of his whereabouts. Even if he were still alive, it had to be said that the evil of the human beast had been eradicated from this world, at least for the time being.

Thus, the fame of private detective Akechi Kogoro alone soared high, the tale of his beautiful wife Mrs. Fumiyo’s uncanny fate became a topic of conversation everywhere, and it moved people for a long time.

However, here remained one mystery that would forever defy resolution. His eyes emitted an eerie phosphorescence; his fangs were as sharp as a wild beast’s; his tongue bore the barbs of a feline—the question of how the monster known as the Human Leopard came to be born into this world. After the incident, rumors of a human-beast hybrid theory spread throughout society. Onda was said to be a child of hell, born when he should not have been. Their reasoning hinged on why Onda’s father had loved leopards so intensely. It was limited to vague matters—why he had grieved so deeply when forced to shoot that leopard, and why he, having lost his beloved leopard, had needed to steal the same animal again from Asakusa Zoo a year later.

Needless to say, these were nothing but baseless conjectures. They were conjectures that science would not endorse.

There might have been a terrifying secret that only Onda's father held. But that father Onda was no longer among the living. With his suicide, the bizarre incidents of the Human Leopard remained an enigma defying resolution for all eternity.

So, what exactly happened to that leopard stolen from Asakusa Zoo? Dear readers must surely find this suspicious. But that leopard had shared Father Onda's fate and met its end on the circus stage. What had appeared to be a tiger in the cage was in fact a leopard in disguise. The criminals must have been utterly perplexed about disposing of the leopard they had stolen. Keeping such an eye-catching creature concealed from human sight was completely impossible. They needed to hide the leopard. But how? The magician had devised a truly outlandish method for that very problem.

They had used human hair dye to skillfully redye the leopard’s spots, covering its entire body with tiger stripes. People were searching for a leopard. They were not searching for a tiger. Therefore, even when a beast tamer with a tiger suddenly appeared in Tokyo, there was no immediate suspicion. They took that tiger and the counterfeit bear costume containing Mrs. Fumiyo, joining the Z Circus Troupe through connections. Naturally, they never let circus members approach either their tiger or bear. Thus their twofold—nay threefold—objectives were achieved. Not only had Onda father and son and the leopard safely hidden themselves, but they had even confined the kidnapped Mrs. Fumiyo within a bear cage beyond human sight. No, that wasn’t all. Under the guise of a beast-fighting spectacle, they staged an utterly cruel performance—feeding Mrs. Fumiyo to a leopard before a grand crowd. They appeared half-mad with demonic vanity, enthralled by their murderous theatrics, seemingly forgetting even their own peril.

The 'Human Leopard' Incident stood as the most bizarre among the many criminal cases handled by Akechi Kogoro. That the victim had been his beloved wife Mrs. Fumiyo alone left him with a long-lasting, unforgettable impression. "You know," he said, "that eerie laugh of Onda's—the bastard who rode that balloon—mocking us from high up in the sky... It lingers in my ears and won't leave me." His voice dropped lower. "I see it in my dreams too. I'll probably never forget that voice as long as I live."

After that, every time Akechi met Inspector Tsunekawa, he would invariably bring it up without fail.