Pathway to Japanese Literature

Feline Tongue Kamiya Yoshio was a company employee who had just graduated from university. Moreover, as a staff member in the research department of a trading company where his father served as director—a carefree position with no fixed duties—the taste of liquor he had grown accustomed to and the allure of the beautiful woman who served it became impossible to forget. It was hardly unreasonable that he found himself visiting with increasing frequency that establishment known as Café Aphrodite, nestled in a backstreet near Kyōbashi.

However, had he chosen a different café or not frequented that one enough to fall in love with its waitress, he would surely have avoided being toyed with by such a spine-chillingly terrifying fate. It was indeed at Café Aphrodite that he first encountered the protagonist of this tale—the monster known as the Human Leopard.

It was a particularly cold late winter night. Kamiya had once again settled into a corner table at Café Aphrodite, sipping whiskey in small, slow sips while exchanging idle conversation for three or four hours with the waitress Hiroko seated across from him. “It’s strange today—it’s only eleven o’clock, but there’s not a single customer besides me.” Even on ordinary days, it was a somewhat gloomy café with few customers, though serene in its quietude; tonight, however, it felt as though one were sitting in an abandoned house—the dim electric lights, the deathly stillness—all of it chilling enough to send a shiver down one’s spine.

“It must be a demon day, I’m sure.” “It must be cold outside.” “But without any interruptions, this is better, isn’t it?” Hiroko parted her well-formed lips in a grin, revealing the double-pronged fang Kamiya loved as she smiled coquettishly. Just then, the entrance boy’s voice greeted a customer, and with clicking footsteps, a man entered and settled into the box seat under the potted palm fronds in the farthest corner, as if avoiding prying eyes.

As the man walked past, Kamiya could discern his demeanor and features: he wore a jet-black suit, had an emaciated frame with disproportionately long legs, and a face swarthy like a Turk's—sunken cheeks, a prominent nose, and shockingly large eyes that evoked some beastly creature. Those eyes, positioned unnaturally close to the bridge of his nose compared to ordinary people, blazed fiercely. He appeared to be around thirty years old. Kamiya then exchanged pleasant whispers with Hiroko for a while longer, but even during that time, he couldn't help being somehow preoccupied with the customer under the palm fronds. He had never seen a person who gave off such a bizarre feeling before.

Hiroko seemed to share the same sentiment; while talking, she kept staring intently in that direction, but finally, as if unable to bear it any longer, she whispered a complaint. “I hate it—that person’s been staring at my face since earlier.” “Look—from under those palm leaves, he’s staring at me with those huge eyes.” “It’s creepy.” When he glanced casually in that direction, there indeed—through gaps in the palm leaves—eyes glowing with an unnatural phosphorescent light like fireflies were fixed piercingly on Hiroko, akin to a cat targeting its prey.

“Is that person a first-timer?”

“Yes, that’s right.” “I’ve never seen someone like that before.” "Rude bastard!" Kamiya clicked his tongue loudly and glared at the man, whereupon the other party noticed this and directed a sharp gaze back at him. “Damn it, I won’t lose!” And since he was drunk, he resolved to engage in this glaring contest, fixing his eyes unwaveringly. As they stared at each other, strangely enough, the phosphorescent glow within the opponent’s eyes gradually intensified until finally an inexplicable sinister radiance filled his entire field of vision, and he couldn’t help feeling a dizzying vertigo. And an indescribable chill crept up the nape of his neck.

“You shouldn’t pay any mind to that creep.” “You should also avoid looking over there—that guy’s not right in the head.” “He’s not an ordinary human!” “Okay, then I won’t look anymore.”

However, before long, something occurred that made it impossible to maintain their feigned indifference. “Hey, Hiroko, I’m in trouble.” The waitress who had been attending to the suspicious customer approached their table with a flushed, drunken face and said in a lowered voice.

“That person… he keeps insisting he wants you to come over.” “No way—how rude!” “Am I not here with Yoshio?” “Yes, I know that.” “So I told him it wasn’t your turn and refused, but he won’t listen—he’s gotten drunk and might turn violent.” “Just for a little while—won’t you show your face?” As he listened to this, Kamiya felt a seething rage welling up within him.

“Just tell him no. What kind of bastard steals someone’s conversation partner? If you keep dawdling, I’ll go deal with him myself.”

Then, the waitress started to walk away but immediately turned back and, “Then he says he wants to meet you.” “I barely managed to stop him from barging over here—I beg you, Hiroko…”

she said tearfully.

“Fine, then I’ll go deal with him.” Kamiya stood up and, shoving aside the two women who clung to him crying, “Oh no, you mustn’t!”, strode briskly into the box seat under the palm fronds.

“I hear you have business with me.”

And being drunk, he pressed forward with aggressive persistence. The man had knocked over both his glass and whiskey bottle on the table, eyes fixed terrifyingly as he violently hacked at the beef steak on his plate—but upon hearing Kamiya’s voice, he suddenly looked up and smirked. “Yes, I have business with you.” “It’s more a request than business.” “I’ve taken a liking to that girl.” “Would you let me see her?”

Caught off guard by his unexpectedly meek tone, Kamiya found himself at a loss for words when—

“Please let me see her.” “Otherwise, I might lose my self-control.” “You mustn’t make me angry.” “Look at this—” “My mouth—my mouth!” When Kamiya looked, he saw Endō grinding his teeth. He was gritting his molars, clamping down on his fury. And those eyes that had been fixed on him now opened wider still, an uncanny phosphorescent glow beginning to burn within them. “But you—that’s impossible.” “That girl’s with me.” “Trying to steal her away…”

Kamiya put up a front. “Is it not allowed? Is it not allowed?” The man asked urgently. “Yes, that’s a problem.” “Ah, please save me. I’m about to lose my self-control. If I lose my self-control…”

He ground his teeth ominously, then—for some reason—formed a fist and suddenly struck the table. As he struck it countless times, his knuckles split open, and blood began to flow. He continued to strike mercilessly over the blood pooled on the table. He was battling his own mind. He clenched his teeth and injured his fingers, trying to suppress some violent impulse. But despite this, the beast-like rage welling up inside him shook his entire body violently, and all five fingers of both hands bent into ugly, claw-like contortions as if grasping at something. And his eyes blazed even bluer, while his teeth clattered violently.

As Kamiya watched this, he could no longer maintain even the pretense of bravado. The drunkenness had completely worn off, and he trembled violently under an indescribable terror—a chill that seeped into the very depths of his heart.

“Hiroko, come here for a second.” He called out involuntarily. “What is it?” Right behind him, Hiroko’s voice answered, and in a defiant tone, she threw herself into the box seat and sat down beside the man. “Ah, you—you’re called Hiroko, are you?”

The man’s expression changed abruptly and completely. He put his arm around Hiroko’s shoulder and, smirking, spoke as if apologizing.

“You see, I’m called Endō.” “I want to give you a present—will you accept it?” He stole uneasy glances toward Kamiya, who watched from the front, and whispered while flapping his large mouth. That’s right—this bizarre figure Endō’s mouth was indeed large. If he were to open it wide, [Kamiya] suspected it might split all the way to his ears, turning that bony face entirely into a mouth. His lips were not particularly thick, but they were very red and appeared perpetually slick with moisture.

Endō pulled a strangely shaped ring from his own finger, took Hiroko’s resisting hand by force, and forced it onto her finger. “This commemorates my first meeting with the beautiful Hiroko.” “Take good care of it.”

Taking advantage of having put the ring on her finger, he tightly gripped Hiroko’s hand and spoke in an utterly self-satisfied, willful tone. Kamiya bristled, but remembering Endō’s earlier visage, he found himself too terrified to act. He could only dismiss it as the madman’s deranged antics. The madman grabbed the whiskey bottle that had been rolling on the floor, poured the dregs of spilled liquor into a glass, and— “To Hiroko—prosit!”

He shouted, downed it in one gulp, and lapped his long tongue around. It was an unnaturally long, crimson-red tongue. But his tongue wasn’t just long. Nor was it merely red. The true horror became unmistakably clear when he brought the beefsteak to his mouth.

That was by no means Kamiya's drunken hallucination. Hiroko and another waitress had also clearly noticed it, and later, they turned pale and discussed the matter. Endō stabbed a thick piece of beef dripping with red blood using his fork, opened his mouth wide, thrashed his crimson tongue about, and ate it with apparent relish—at which moment the swiftly moving surface of his tongue was starkly visible under the electric light.

Ah, could that be a human tongue? On the bright red surface of the meat lay a field of barbs as if studded with needles. Each time it moved—like a grass thicket blown by wind—the tongue rippled with a swish and bristled upright. This was no human tongue. A feline tongue. Kamiya had kept a cat before and knew well the horror of such an organ—the tongue of a ferocious carnivore: a cat’s, a tiger’s, or if not those, a leopard’s. The phosphorescent light burning in those enormous eyes, the darkened bony face, the bright red feline tongue, the agile movements—a black leopard! Yes—gazing at this man, he couldn’t help but vividly conjure that solitary, ferocious shadow-beast dwelling within tropical jungles.

Am I truly in my right mind? Could this monster be nothing more than a drunken hallucination? Or am I now being tormented by a nightmare? Kamiya grew terrified of watching and tried to avert his eyes, but the more he attempted to look away, the more he found himself—as though pulled back by invisible threads—unwittingly staring at the beast-like mouth of the man before him.

Something stirred in the darkness.

All he wanted was to protect his lover. Clenching his teeth against terror through every moment he sat facing each other with that monster in their booth—how interminably long those hours felt. Yet Endō—though he ground his teeth fiercely at intervals—committed no overt violence and kept drinking while gazing at Hiroko’s face until closing time came around one o’clock. When refused further service under pretext of closing shop he reluctantly bid Hiroko farewell again and again before departing with unexpected meekness. Kamiya exhaled his relief then left after comforting pale-faced Hiroko—lingering one step behind her exit from Café Aphrodite.

In the backstreets of the late-night hours, utterly devoid of passersby, an icy black wind howled with a sorrowful sound. Kamiya suddenly felt as lonely as if cast into a desert. Holding down his hat while walking toward the nearby main street to hail a taxi—yet upon turning that street corner—he saw Endō standing beneath an avenue’s pallid streetlight. At the café he had carried it rolled under his arm unnoticed—but now revealed clearly—he stood clad in a black Inverness coat ill-suited over his suit like some colossal nocturnal monster-bird. Each gust made that coat’s hem and sleeves flutter like bat wings.

As Kamiya stood rooted in place, morbidly transfixed by Endō’s wizard-like figure reminiscent of old Western tales, he suddenly began stomping his feet like a spoiled child while unleashing strange cries into the black wind. It wasn’t merely to ward off the cold. He was in a frenzy, as if on the verge of madness. He must have been trying to distract himself from an irresistible impulse by doing so.

Kamiya was being drawn to the mysterious man as if by some strange gravitational force. He could no longer suppress the urge to follow this man’s trail no matter where it led. The more frightened he was, the more he wanted to witness his true nature. Before long, Endō hailed a vacant car and disappeared inside. Kamiya, also irritated, jumped into another car that came along.

“Follow that car ahead wherever it goes—make sure they don’t notice us.” “I’ll pay whatever fare you want.” The late-night avenue, free of obstructions, was ideal for tailing. The two cars raced like arrows through the wind. Up to Shinjuku, the townscape beyond the window looked familiar, but beyond that he could hardly orient himself. Their car wound through successive outskirts until they found themselves on a country lane dotted sparsely with houses. After what felt like forty or fifty minutes of driving, the car ahead finally stopped.

Kamiya alighted from the car approximately half a cho short of the destination to avoid detection and asked the driver where they were, to which came the reply that they were apparently midway between Ogikubo and Kichijoji. "I'll be back shortly. You turn off the headlights and wait here for me."

After giving that order, he hurriedly chased after Endō. On both sides of the road, between rows of towering giant trees like colossal demons, scattered houses stood here and there with dimly lit streetlights glowing at intervals. Peering through the gaps, Endō’s bat-like black figure strode about fifty meters ahead down the road. It was the exact moment his black shadow passed beneath a streetlight. Suddenly, a dog came running from ahead and barked shrilly.

Endō raised his foot and shooed it away with “Shoo! Shoo!”, but the more he did so, the more fiercely the dog barked. Even the dog must have been unable to help being frightened by his grotesque appearance.

Provoked by the small animal’s relentless assault, the mysterious man once again began stomping his feet in a frenzy. Alternately raising his legs and clenching both hands before his chest—though it couldn’t be heard from there, he was surely grinding his teeth in that familiar way. He began an indescribably eerie mad dance. Had a human seen that, they would have trembled in fear and fled immediately, but far from running away, the dog instead attacked with even greater ferocity.

Then, in the next moment—ah—a truly terrifying thing happened. Kamiya could never forget the horrifying sight of that moment. The mysterious man let out an abnormally sharp shriek, then suddenly flared open the wings of his Inverness coat and lunged at the pitiful dog like a ferocious beast. Under the dim streetlight, the man and the dog became a single black mass, rolling around like a ball. Neither man nor dog made a sound anymore; they fought in terrifying silence.

But this mismatched struggle did not last long. The black mass abruptly stopped moving—what rose unsteadily to its feet was Endō’s shadow. After rising, without so much as a glance back, he walked away—and lying motionless behind him was the pitiful corpse of the dog.

Kamiya approached the dog’s corpse and felt a fresh shudder. The dog had its mouth brutally torn open and lay collapsed in a mass of bright red blood. Ah, what kind of monster was this? He wasn’t human. What human could commit such cruelty? And that terrifying strength— He must have gripped the dog’s upper and lower jaws with both hands and ripped them apart with a sickening crack—but could anyone with normal strength do such a thing?

Kamiya, daunted by the opponent’s excessive cruelty, even considered turning back then and there, but his tenacious curiosity overcame his fear, and gripping his greasy sweat in both hands, he once again pursued the mysterious man’s trail.

After tailing him for a while, Endō left the main road and turned onto a narrow path through the grove. Far beyond the sparse grove, cutting through the starry sky, there was what appeared to be a cluster of trees resembling a forest. Judging by the flickering lights visible within, it must be a house surrounded by standing trees. Was Endō heading back to that lone house in the field?

As they moved away from the streetlights along the road, the darkness within the grove grew increasingly dense, which made it extremely difficult to tail the black shadow through that gloom.

But when he finally emerged from the grove, for some reason, he abruptly lost sight of Endō’s shadow that until moments before had been faintly discernible. In the grove where concealment came easily, he had maintained proper pursuit—yet after emerging beneath a starry sky that expanded his field of vision despite the darkness, this sudden disappearance of the figure felt utterly uncanny. The area contained neither rice paddies nor fields—only a desolate stretch of overgrown thicket. With no proper path to follow, dew-dampened dead grass clung unsettlingly to his legs while hidden puddles threatened to trip him at every step, making progress arduous. Yet Kamiya pressed onward unsteadily—unwilling to abandon the monster he had painstakingly tracked this far—peering through gaps in the starry expanse to survey his surroundings as he kept the distant cluster of trees and their flickering light as his guide.

When he suddenly noticed, the grass thicket a few meters ahead was rustling. Is it the wind? Is the dead grass swaying in the wind? But if it were the wind, it was strange that the sound came from only one spot. He grew slightly uneasy and stopped to listen, but though the wind still swept through the sky, the earlier sound abruptly ceased. When he started walking, a rustling sound came again from the same direction. When he stopped, the sound ceased abruptly. Could it be that I’m frightening myself with my own footsteps? But no—that didn’t seem to be the case. He experimentally tried walking stealthily to muffle his footsteps, but there was still a rustling sound like wind parting the grass thicket.

The late-night hours of Musashino, far removed from the city’s bustle, were dark and still as the underworld.

As for sound, there was only the wind blowing through the sky; as for light, nothing but the twinkling stars. In that unworldly dark expanse, a sound other than the wind would cease only to start again. Kamiya stood frozen by the overwhelming eeriness, rendered completely unable to move. And then, as he stared fixedly in the direction of the sound, two spheres glowing bluish-white like phosphorus appeared amidst the grass thicket. In this cold season, there couldn’t be fireflies. Nor a snake. Eyes of a feline that glowed even in the darkness. Those were the eyes of that black leopard.

The two glowing orbs grew increasingly brighter while staring fixedly in this direction without moving. It's him. For some reason, the monster was lying in the grass thicket, watching Kamiya's figure. For a long, long time, an eerie standoff in the darkness continued. Kamiya was nearing the limits of his strength. He was on the verge of fainting from terror. At that moment—ah, at that very moment—the monster lying prostrate on the ground spoke in a human voice. The monster spoke in a gloomy voice, as if reverberating from the depths of hell.

“Hey—go home at once.” “I won’t have someone like you meddling in my affairs.”

And when the phosphorescent eyes turned away and vanished, the black shadow crawled low along the ground, parting the grass with a rustle as it retreated into the distance. He never once stood up. Not running upright but placing both hands on the ground, he scurried away like a beast. Kamiya mustered his remaining strength and ran back the way he came, for as long as his breath would last. He returned to the heart of his boyhood—forgotten for over a decade—and fled desperately as if something were chasing him. He ran and ran, feeling the frustration of being trapped in an inescapable nightmare.

The Haunted House’s Secret

From the day after that, Kamiya Yoshio was bedridden for a week with a cold and fever. This was partly due to his exposure to the cold late-night wind while tailing the monster, but perhaps also because he had been bathed in that eerie phosphorescent light and felt the demonic aura of a specter.

Since he had been absent from work—so much so that he couldn’t visit Café Aphrodite either—he had no idea what had happened to Hiroko during that time. But once he was finally able to get up and went to the café, looking forward to her smile after so long, something unexpected occurred.

Three days prior, Hiroko had left home to go shopping at Shiseido in Ginza and gone missing without a trace; though her family had reported it to the police and were searching frantically, her whereabouts remained unknown.

He couldn’t imagine that Hiroko would love another man besides Kamiya and elope; moreover, there wasn’t the slightest reason for her to run away from home or commit suicide.

She must have been kidnapped. But would a man who'd attempt such recklessness—abducting a waitress in central Ginza—even exist in this world today? Wasn't this too divorced from human reason?

But in the world of beasts… Ah, yes—in the world of beasts, such things were everyday occurrences. Driven by instinct, there was no telling what they might do. The culprit had to be him. It must have been that Endō who crawled through the grass thicket like a snake. Kamiya stopped the waitress from that night and asked whether he had returned since then, but she replied he never had. It grew increasingly suspicious. For someone so obsessed with Hiroko—even giving her a ring—to simply give up was unthinkable. Wasn’t his absence due to plotting an even greedier conspiracy instead? Wasn’t it because he had schemed a beastly plan to take Hiroko to his lair and claim her completely?

Kamiya was now certain that was the case. But he lacked the courage to report Endō to the police. If that were not the case, there would be no way to undo it. He had to investigate further. He himself had to obtain slightly clearer evidence. First of all, wasn’t it true that they didn’t even know Endō’s background or where he lived?

Therefore, the following day, he decided to take the afternoon off from work and set out to confirm the residence of the suspicious individual within the Musashino Forest he remembered.

After getting lost many times, he finally found what seemed to be the forest and got out of the car; then, walking along a narrow branch path and parting the eerie grass thicket, he made his way toward his destination. The sky hung heavily overcast—windless and not particularly cold—yet not a single blade of grass nor treetop stirred, all exuding an otherworldly aura. Though he tried not to remember it, the terrifying memory from the previous night resurfaced, and an impulse to flee nearly overwhelmed him. But for his lover’s sake alone, he managed to restrain himself at last, pushed through the grass thicket, and stepped into the dim forest.

There, surrounded by tall evergreen trees, spread an uncanny building. A blue moss-covered brick wall; a quaint wooden Western-style house—astonishing that such a thing remained in this day and age; a steeply slanted slate roof from which a square red-brick chimney jutted out abruptly, vigorously spewing smoke. Compared to the gloomy building that seemed on the verge of decay, only this smoke looked ridiculously vigorous. The resident must be extremely sensitive to the cold. Or was there some special reason?

At the gate was a rusted iron door, so tightly shut that there wasn’t even a gap to peek through, and the vast estate lay utterly silent, devoid of any human presence. Kamiya, intending to circle around the brick wall, began walking while treading uneasily over the sodden fallen leaves—but just as he reached the back of the building, he suddenly heard a strange noise and froze in alarm. It was less a sound and more the voice of some entity. But it was not human. Humans couldn’t possibly produce such a terrifying growl. It was an animal. It was undoubtedly the growl of a beast far more ferocious than any dog. Is there a beast kept in this gloomy mansion?

Suppressing his pounding chest, he stood still and listened intently. After a moment, he heard it again. It was a wild beast’s growl—a guttural “Wroar.” At the same time, something flew from inside the brick wall and landed at his feet like a hurled stone. He gasped, his face paling as he nearly bolted, but upon closer inspection, it wasn’t anything dangerous. What had been thrown out was something like a rolled-up handkerchief.

He returned and kicked it with his foot, whereupon from inside the handkerchief, a single ring rolled out with a clatter. "Oh, this ring looks familiar," he thought, squatting to pick it up—when suddenly he noticed the shape of letters stained red on the handkerchief. Blood! This can’t be paint. It is definitely human blood. The characters were written in blood.

When he hurriedly spread it out, there, in uneven, crudely scrawled characters,

“Help! I’ll be killed!” was written there. In her desperation, she must have bitten off her finger and used it as a brush to write the message. Though he couldn’t discern any distinctive handwriting features, Kamiya was certain it was Hiroko’s writing. Confined within the estate without brush or paper, she must have resorted to such a desperate measure.

Ah, I remembered. It must be Hiroko—the best evidence was this ring. Could this be the ring that Endō had slipped onto Hiroko’s finger that night?

The moment this thought struck him, Kamiya forgot both his creeping unease and primal fear. Hiroko was now about to be slaughtered by that beast. He had to save her. He had to rescue her even if it meant gambling his life. Slipping repeatedly on sodden leaves and nearly tumbling down, he charged toward the gate with reckless momentum. Then—fist clenched like forged iron—he began hammering wildly on the door’s metal plating while—

“Open up! Is anyone there?” he kept shouting. But no matter how much he knocked or shouted, there was no response from within the mansion. Kamiya no longer had the luxury of thinking ahead. Suddenly planting his foot on the door frame, he easily vaulted 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 quick response. “Who’s there? So noisy!”

While roaring, he opened the door from inside.

Inside the Cage

The one who opened the door and poked his face out was an old man with snow-white hair and beard, his back bent as if broken, dressed in a suit. Since the opponent turned out to be an unexpectedly frail old man, Kamiya, feeling disconcerted, adopted a somewhat calmer tone and— “Is this the residence of Mr. Endō?” he first asked tentatively. “Yes, I am Endō. And who’re you?” The old man answered in an unhurried tone unbefitting a house where murder might occur, then scrutinized Kamiya and the tightly shut gate door.

“No—I wish to meet the younger Mr. Endō.” “I’m Kamiya—we met once at the café in Kyōbashi.” “If by ‘younger one’… Ah, you mean my son?” “He’s unfortunately not here at present.”

The old man feigned ignorance and made no attempt to engage. This guy wasn't someone to let your guard down around. He might have been a frail old man, but there was nothing ordinary about the look in his eyes.

“Well then, let me ask you.” “Hasn’t a young girl come to your house?” “A girl named Hiroko who works at the café.” Summoning his resolve, he asked.

“A young girl? I don’t know… But standing here talking won’t do. Won’t you come inside? Let’s hear your story properly. You’re quite the rude one, crossing over gates and such… but let’s set that aside for now.”

Suddenly, the old man grinned and turned obsequiously friendly. It was strange. There must be some reason behind this. But flustered, Kamiya had failed to notice until now and, led by the old man’s invitation, followed him into the house.

He was led to a Western-style room with high, small windows—as gloomy as a prison.

“I am but a decrepit scholar.” “Since I don’t engage in society’s niceties, I’m afraid I have no proper room to entertain guests.”

Just as the old man had said, it was indeed a bizarre room. On one side stood a large bookshelf packed with antiquated Western books whose gilt lettering had faded, while on another shelf lay glass bottles of various sizes—likely containing chemicals—each labeled and covered in dust. Beneath them sat what appeared to be a laboratory bench cluttered with test tubes, flasks, beakers, and distillation apparatuses.

In yet another corner stood a glass-paneled shelf where three or four animal skulls—flatter than human ones—lay scattered, their eye sockets collecting dust, while on the shelf below, eerie silver toolboxes like those used by surgeons, half-rusted and lined up in a row. Beside the glass-paneled shelf was installed a large apparatus resembling a potter’s wheel. It was just 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—and beside it lay two dilapidated chairs, carelessly discarded. The old man sat down on one of the chairs and suggested that Kamiya take a seat as well.

“Do have a seat.” “My son should return shortly.” “Unless my son returns, I can tell you nothing.” “As you see, I’m wholly occupied with this research.”

Kamiya wanted to venture further inside, but since that wasn’t possible, he restlessly repeated the same questions again.

“Do you truly not know? No matter what, there’s no way you wouldn’t know about a stranger’s daughter being confined in this very house.” “Wh-What are you saying? A girl confined here? That must be some kind of mistake. Whether it’s me or my son, we’re not such villains. On what evidence are you making such baseless accusations?”

The old man glared with his large, phosphorescent eyes and declared. “You wish to see evidence?” “The evidence is this.” “Just now, someone threw this from inside your house over the wall.”

As he spoke, Kamiya took out the bloodstained handkerchief from earlier and spread it open before the old man’s eyes.

The old man, upon reading it, was visibly startled but casually began to laugh, “Ah ha ha ha ha! You say someone threw this from the house?” “Could it be you were dreaming?” “This house has only my son and me, and since he’s out, I’m all alone now.” “There’s no reason for me to throw something like this…” “Now, take a look at this.” “This is the ring your son gave to Hiroko, a waitress.” “Do you intend to claim you don’t recognize this either?”

When the old man saw the ring, he appeared even more startled. His face—as dull black as his son’s buried within a white beard—seemed to flush crimson in an instant. But he stubbornly feigned ignorance, “I don’t know nothin’.” “I don’t know nothin’ about such things… But if you’re so suspicious, why don’t you search the house?” “I can show you around if you like.”

he said something unexpected. Kamiya had to be cautious. Beneath the old man’s words, some terrible scheme might have been concealed. However, he was so desperate to confirm Hiroko’s safety that he had no time to consider anything else. “Then please show me around.” “Since I’ve come all this way, I want to leave fully reassured.”

Kamiya stood up and hurriedly urged the old man. “Then come this way.”

The old man—as if reluctantly—left his chair with a grunt, clasped his hands behind his hunched back, and tottered out of the room.

After walking a short way down the dim corridor, there was a sturdy wooden door with an outer bolt. “First, let me have you look inside here.” While saying this, the old man removed the bolt, took the lead, and entered the room. Kamiya followed him in, but the room was dimly lit, and he couldn’t discern anything at all. “Is the window closed?” “That’s correct.” “I’ll open it now—please wait a moment.” The old man made clattering noises in the gloom until—with a loud bang—the room suddenly plunged into total darkness.

“What’s happening?”

When he called out in surprise, the old man began to laugh somewhere far away.

“Hahaha, no use struggling.” “I thought I’d let you rest there awhile.” “Now do take your time. Hahaha!” And his voice gradually faded into the distance.

He realized with a start and rushed to the room's entrance, but it was already too late. The thick door was tightly shut—likely barred from outside—and no matter how much he pushed or pulled, it didn't budge an inch. Kamiya had fallen into a trap through utter carelessness. The old man had taken advantage of the dim light to pretend opening a window before slipping out into the corridor during his moment of inattention and barring the door from outside. He repeatedly slammed his entire body against the door but found it ineffective. Groping around next to check for windows, he discovered the walls were completely paneled without any window-like openings. It was a storage-like room about three tatami mats in size, utterly devoid of lighting fixtures. But this was too sturdy for mere storage. Perhaps this resembled an animal containment cage. That indeed appeared to be the case. Ah—had he been confined like a beast in a cage?

Cat and Mouse

When Kamiya realized there was absolutely no hope of escape, overwhelmed by fierce regret, he collapsed into a crouch in the darkness. I acted rashly. I should have considered my own strength before panicking. And my mistake was letting my guard down because I thought he was just a senile old man. He was far from senile; the deftness with which he had confined me to this sealed room was a swiftness even a young man couldn’t match. But what on earth am I supposed to do now?

If I lacked the strength to break through this cage-like sealed room, there would be no other recourse. With no means to alert anyone, would I simply starve to death like this? Ah—but where could Hiroko be? Though she remained unaware that my rescue attempt had brought me to this plight, she must be suffering similar confinement. Yet since her prison allowed her to drop a handkerchief, it had to be in a room with a window somewhere on the mansion’s rear side.

But that’s strange—if she threw that handkerchief upon seeing me or hearing my footsteps, wouldn’t she have achieved her purpose just by shouting for help instead of going through such an elaborate process? Could she have been gagged? But if they’d gagged her, they would have bound her hands too. If her hands were tied, she couldn’t have written those characters. Then did she throw that message without aiming at anyone specific? Was she just waiting for some passerby to find it? That seemed like the most plausible explanation. Still, what luck that she threw it just as I happened to pass by. No—it wasn’t luck at all. Now that I thought about it, that had been my mistake. I was the only one who knew about Endō’s house—and now that I’d become the mummy hunter turned mummy myself, any hope of rescuing Hiroko was utterly gone. Ah—what should I do?

As Kamiya brooded in the dark like this, suddenly—"Grrrooowl!"—a beast’s guttural roar echoed from very close by. Apparently, it was right beyond the wooden wall.

There really was a beast. Ah, that was it. This cage-like sealed room must exist because this house kept a beast. Even in Tokyo proper, there were plenty of wealthy people who privately raised wild animals outside zoos. Here too might lurk some terrifying creature. When I reached that conclusion, the shocking thought made me spring to my feet unbidden. Ah—could that senile old man be planning to drive the beast into here? No—to call that absurd... No, this entire mansion was absurd from the start. That an alchemist's room existed in Tokyo's suburbs at all—that Hiroko and I had been imprisoned here—none of it made rational sense. Yet these impossibilities were unfolding before me—who could predict what lunatic occurrence 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 walked around like this, he suddenly discovered a gap in the wooden wall. Upon seeing it, even if a fearsome beast were baring its fangs on the other side, he could not help but peer through. He crouched down and pressed his eye to the gap. Ah, was this not a dream? There, indeed, was a beast… A large leopard crouched before him.

It was indeed a spacious room with sturdy wooden walls resembling a warehouse, but in one corner lay part of an actual iron cage containing a leopard's sprawled upper body. Outside the cage stretched an earthen floor, and given the walls' sturdiness, they likely sometimes released the leopard to roam about the room. Was it his imagination? An unbearable wild beast stench suddenly assaulted his nostrils. But more than just stench permeated the air. Why did this oppressive heat feel so unnatural? Until now he'd been too agitated to notice—but with his eye pressed to the gap—the warmth seemed to flow from the adjacent room. Moreover, upon closer scrutiny beyond the window's light, he detected a faint reddish glow quivering restlessly. Ah—he understood. Though invisible from here, someone had lit a stove for this cold-sensitive leopard. The chimney smoke he'd glimpsed beyond the wall earlier must have risen from this very room.

When crouching grew tiring, he would take his eye away and crouch down, but after a while, unable to bear his anxiety, he would peer through the gap again. And so, crouching down and peering through, unable to form any coherent thoughts, time steadily passed by. About an hour had passed when, as he crouched exhausted, a woman’s scream suddenly pierced through from beyond the wooden wall. It was a prolonged, desperate wail of anguish.

When Kamiya heard that, he instantly grasped its terrifying meaning. And while feeling his heart suddenly pounding wildly, he abruptly stood up and pressed his eye to the gap.

There was what he had expected—no, something even more terrifying than he had anticipated. On the earthen floor before the leopard’s cage lay a young woman—her hair disheveled, clothes torn, skin exposed—collapsed in a posture of warding something off with both hands. Had she rushed in through an entrance invisible from here? Or rather, more likely, someone had shoved her, and she had unwittingly collapsed into this room. Kamiya realized in an instant—the figure he had been desperately searching for was Hiroko. Ah, she had been thrown into the beast’s room. Before long, the leopard’s cage would be opened. And the blood-starved beast would lick its chops and crawl over her.

He lacked even the strength to cry out, clinging to the wooden wall as greasy sweat streamed down his entire body. But his imagination missed the mark. It soon became clear that what attacked Hiroko was not the leopard, but rather a human even more cruel than the leopard. It was against that human that she had raised both hands to defend herself. A man rapidly materialized into view. It was Endō. It was Endō—the son himself. That monster who, one night, had crawled like a snake through the grass thicket with two phosphorescent gleams shining.

See—there he was, crawling on all fours after all! 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 even in broad daylight. They spoke volumes about how frenzied he had become. His glistening, wet lips split open like tearing flesh with every breath, revealing eerily white teeth, while the inky-black tongue characteristic of felines flickered between them like a serpent’s probe.

The monster, much like a cat toying with a mouse, crawled toward the terrified Hiroko from every direction—lunging close only to leap back, feigning attacks before retreating—appearing utterly delighted as he sought to prolong this cruel game for as long as possible.

Two Wild Beasts Endō wore a wrinkled black suit that clung tightly to his sinewy, emaciated limbs, making him nothing less than a giant black leopard. His crimson, thick lips glistened wetly, and between his white teeth, that beast’s inky-black tongue peered out ominously.

Because it was a dimly lit room with few windows, he could clearly discern the eerie will-o’-the-wisp glow emanating from his eyes. The sinister blue-and-yellow light burning in their depths seemed to intensify its radiance the more frenzied he grew. With those eyes, that mouth, and those limbs, the black Human Leopard now pounced upon his beautiful quarry. Their bodies became nothing but tumbling spheres of black and white rolling across the broad earthen floor. Black hands and white hands tangled violently. Hiroko kept up her desperate resistance valiantly without even crying out.

Each time the tangled figures vanished from the gap’s field of view, Kamiya felt as though his heart had stopped beating. He forgot his own peril and nearly cried out multiple times. But what good would screaming do in this locked room? Not only would it be ineffective—such an act would only worsen the situation. He could do nothing but clench his teeth, greasy sweat streaming down his face, and cling to the peephole.

The fiend 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 breathless struggle for survival. Each time they grappled, each time she was thrown down, each time they tumbled about—clothes and underwear were torn away, until now barely anything remained to cover her body. She did not make a single sound. Had she realized that screaming would be futile? Or had her parched throat, from terror and exhaustion, already lost the strength to utter a sound?

Amidst this commotion, the leopard in the cage could not remain unaffected. The wild beast let out a terrifying growl as it stood up and began dashing left and right within the cage. And his frenzy grew increasingly abnormal the more intense the two humans’ struggle became. The ferocity of the madness—clinging to and scaling the cage’s iron bars. The terror of the roar gushing forth from a crimson-opened mouth. Hiroko’s pale body was hurled repeatedly by Endō or collapsed in her attempts to flee, tumbling across the floor—until at last, by chance, she fell before the leopard’s cage door.

She clung to the iron bars of the door, struggling to rise, when suddenly her pale hand caught on the latch. And yet, despite being in the throes of extreme agitation, she understood what that latch meant.

Hiroko swiftly turned around and glared at Endō, who was poised to pounce once more. Bloodshot crimson eyes, swollen flared nostrils, lips gaping like a fish’s mouth, a face pallid to an indigo hue with death’s pallor—with that face, she grinned mockingly.

Kamiya instantly realized the meaning of that smile and involuntarily closed his eyes. Ah, the final moment came at last. The time came for everything to end. A clang—an eerie sound—reverberated. Kamiya shuddered at the sound, but though he tried not to look, he couldn’t avoid seeing. When he opened his eyes again, the cage door was already open. Hiroko had removed the latch.

When he looked for the leopard, not a trace of it remained in the cage.

And on the earthen floor lay a tangled mass of yellow and black—the leopard had leaped in a single bound at its owner, Endō. “Waaah!” A piercing wail of anguish burst forth from the fiend Endō’s mouth. Even he, caught off guard by this ambush, was struck with utter shock. 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 beast versus beast—a terrifying spectacle the world had never seen.

The yellow leopard, black Endō, and white Hiroko—now, before Kamiya’s eyes, these three living beings formed a swirling vortex of terror as they grappled, collided, leaped, struck each other down, tumbled, and thrashed madly. In this dizzying collision of colors, his head went numb and his vision blurred—he had even lost the capacity to feel fear.

Clashing crimson mouths—oh, they were locked in a savage bite. Even Endō, the human, had split his mouth open to his ears, bared his white teeth, and locked in a savage bite. And four blazing eyes—so phosphorescent they seemed aflame—darted through the gloom, while a monstrous roar shook the room’s four walls. But Endō was no match for the real beast. Gradually, gradually, he was pushed into the corner of the room. The beast’s sharp claws tore through Endō’s clothes and sank firmly into his shoulder. Endō used all his strength in both arms to hold back the leopard’s jaws, but that strength began to falter. The blood-craving fangs of the beast crept closer, inch by inexorable inch, toward his throat.

If it had been left as it was for another minute, the fiend Endō would have ceased to exist in this world. Kamiya and Hiroko’s sworn enemy must have perished. And in later days, they could have prevented in advance even that great evil which threw the world into turmoil and shed the blood of the living. But whether by fortune or misfortune—no, no—in fact, it was truly unfortunate that Endō’s life was snatched back from death’s very brink. In the final instant, the savior appeared.

A strange impulse struck Kamiya’s eardrums as he watched breathlessly. The scene before his eyes seemed to rock unsteadily... A gunshot. Someone had fired to save Endō from mortal peril. Beneath billowing white smoke, the beast stretched its limbs rigid as a taxidermied leopard, rolled once, twice, thrice, then lay motionless in an unnaturally elongated pose.

The fiend Endō, who had barely clung to life, was utterly spent—even he lacked the strength to rise suddenly.

Then into Kamiya’s peripheral vision lumbered an old man with white hair and beard—Endō’s father—holding a gun in one hand, the same man who had previously confined him in this secret room. The one who had saved his son from peril was that father.

“Who opened the cage? Surely it wasn’t you.” “Was it that girl there?”

He asked, his sharp eyes gleaming as he glared at Hiroko’s half-naked body collapsed before the cage. “That’s right.” “It’s her.” “It’s her! She tried to have the leopard eat me and went and opened the cage!” Endō snarled hatefully with labored breathing.

“Hmm, I see. “So, this girl is your enemy.” “No—rather, she’s the enemy of my precious leopard.” “When I shot and killed this one, how sorrowful I felt… how regretful I was…” As he spoke, the old man squatted before the leopard’s corpse and, as if unable to bear his grief, stroked its back while offering a long silent prayer. Then, suddenly straightening up, he declared in a fierce tone:

“All right, I won’t restrain you anymore.” “Indulge yourself fully.” “This is vengeance for my beloved leopard.” “Do exactly as you desire.”

With that declaration, he disappeared from view.

The Haunted House’s Eerie Flames Kamiya was almost completely drained of strength. But he could not tear his eyes away from the peephole. Like an old woman’s face in a “Bride-Terrifying” play fused with a vengeful spirit’s mask, his face remained stuck fast to the wooden wall and would not come away. The fiend Endō soon regained his strength and stood up while licking his lips. His ashen face was twisted, and a bone-chilling smile appeared. He was likely rejoicing that he could now take revenge on this lovely prey openly and without restraint.

When he looked at Hiroko—ah, whether fortunately or unfortunately—she did not faint and stared at Endō with a gaze bearing terror from the very depths. The monster kindled phosphorescent light in both eyes, bared his fangs, and crept closer toward her.

Ah, what did Kamiya see and hear during those thirty minutes or so? It was a hell within hell. Every terrifying thing, every ugly thing, every color, every movement, every sound reduced his brain to idiocy, blinded his eyes, and deafened his ears. And finally, when the blood-maddened fiend Endō—with nowhere to vent the aftermath of his frenzy—vanished from view as though leaping about in madness, all that remained was a chaotic scattering of blazing colors that had lost all semblance of human form.

A woman’s soul ascended amidst suffering unlike any ever known. Thus, Kamiya lost both his lover’s soul and even her physical body entirely from this world.

He collapsed limply onto the secret room’s floor and, for a very long time, did not move like a dead man. He was drenched in greasy sweat all over his body and did not move, like a crumpled scrap of paper. But finally, his shoulders began to heave. A sobbing as faint as the hum of insects began to be heard. And gradually, gradually, the voice grew louder until finally, he writhed and cried out like a child.

Before he knew it, evening dusk had settled over the surroundings, and the already dim secret room had plunged into an impenetrable darkness where even patterns were indistinguishable. Enveloped in that darkness, his crying continued endlessly.

Suddenly he noticed someone calling out to him loudly. Moreover, into the secret room he had believed contained only darkness, a single red beam of light was shining from somewhere. He reflexively tensed up and turned toward the source of the voice. “Now now, what’re you crying for?” “What’s got you so sad?”

Along with the voice, he could see the eyes and nose of its owner, framed in a square and floating in mid-air.

Endō’s father. In the entrance’s wooden door, a small square peephole had been made, and he was now opening its cover, holding up a candle to peer into the secret room. Kamiya stared back at the old man’s face without uttering a word. He didn’t know what to say. If he were to speak, his voice would likely tremble pitifully. And he felt an unbearable anxiety about life, as though something were crushing him.

“Oh, what happened to your face?”

The old man recognized Kamiya’s altered face in the candlelight.

“Ah, so that’s how it is.” “So you know about that.” “But how?” “Ah, right.” “There was a gap in the wall’s boards.” “You saw it through there.” “That must be it.” “Hey—did you see 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, then I’m sorry, but we can’t let you leave here forever. Let me make this clear. Why we can’t let you out—you should understand that much without explanation. Resign yourself. Ha ha ha ha ha!” The peephole cover snapped shut with cruel finality, the old man departed, and the room plunged back into darkness.

The old man had decided that since 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 sent into his secret room to subject him to the same fate as Hiroko, or the old man’s gun barrel would emerge from the peephole to take aim at him. Even if that didn’t happen, if he were left alone like this, he would surely starve to death before long.

Even if I tried to escape, how could I possibly break through these thick plank walls and sturdy wooden door with nothing but my own strength? Oh,I had done something unthinkable. Even if it had been to save my lover,v enturing alone into this demonic lair without assessing my strength or informing others was an irreparable blunder. I should have first informed the police. And I should have secured powerful reinforcements and gone to rescue Hiroko. But that was already an irreparable litany. Now,I had no choice but devise some way—however impossible—to escape this secret room. And I must report their evil deeds to the police and avenge Hiroko. This was at least a token of devotion. If even Kamiya were left dead here like this,their crimes would remain unknown,and that fearsome half-beast half-human monster would never face punishment. That defied all reason. He must receive his rightful retribution. No matter what,I had escape once and atone for my lover’s brutal death.

But by what means? Oh, by what means could I escape this secret room? Was such a thing even possible?

While thinking, Kamiya suddenly reached into his coat pocket. Then, suddenly, as if by inspiration, a strange idea came to him. "Oh! I had matches! "There are matches here." He took them out of his pocket, checked the number of sticks, and struck one with a swish. A red light suddenly tore through the darkness. In that light, as he surveyed every corner of the secret room, his thoughts grew increasingly developed.

"That's right—there's no other way." "It's all or nothing—I'll take them on!" He began hurriedly stripping off his clothes. After becoming completely naked, he selected only thin garments—shirt, undershorts, dress shirt, necktie, soft collar—bundled them together, then redressed in his suit over bare skin and threw on his overcoat. Then he combed through every pocket—handkerchiefs, old letters, tissues, notebooks—gathering all combustible items, combined them with fabric pieces like shirts, rolled them into a bundle, and placed it against the plank wall at the room's rear.

He intended to set fire to it. So, did he intend to burn down the demon’s lair? But if he did such a thing, wouldn’t Kamiya himself burn to death before anyone else? What a reckless plan he had devised! Had he, in his unrelenting frenzy, perhaps gone mad?

No, that was not the case. He had resolved upon a single daring gambit. He had devised a dangerous stunt—a one-in-a-thousand gamble. After wasting many matches, he finally got the papers to catch fire. The fire spread to the dress shirt’s sleeve. When he saw this, Kamiya suddenly began stomping his feet. He clenched both fists and violently struck the plank wall. And then—though what could possibly be funny?—he opened his mouth wide and began laughing like a madman at full volume.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” resounded eerily throughout the house.

After continuing this for a while, sure enough, footsteps sounded outside the plank door, and someone opened the peephole. Kamiya, taking that as his cue, instantly fell silent, swiftly crouched at the entrance—out of view from the peephole—and poised himself, waiting impatiently for the plank door to open.

The one who became suspicious of his laughter and came to investigate was, as expected, Endō’s father. When he looked, there was a blazing flame at the back of the room. If left unattended, it looked as though it would spread to the plank walls at any moment. The flustered old man, without a moment to think, suddenly removed the latch, opened the plank door, and rushed into the room to smother the flames.

Now! Kamiya slipped under the old man’s armpit and dashed into the corridor like a gale. Then mustering every ounce of strength, he slammed the plank door shut behind the old man and dropped the latch with a clatter—now their positions were reversed, with the old man imprisoned in the cage instead. Having done this, Kamiya hurried down the remembered corridor through the old man’s study and bolted out the entrance. He then scaled the iron gate’s tightly shut door, leapt down from it, raced through pitch-black woods until emerging into trackless grassland.

The sky hung completely overcast without a single visible star, while a frigid wind set the grass thicket rippling with susurrations. When he looked back, the demonic forest loomed pitch-black against his vision—within its depths flickered what might have been lamplight from the eerie mansion, or perhaps the phosphorescent glare of the monster’s eyes now pursuing him with knowledge of his escape. As these thoughts struck him abruptly, Kamiya felt such terror that his legs locked rigid. Then even the rustling grass seemed not wind-born but the slithering approach of some beastman’s form, until across that expanse of darkened grassland there began appearing everywhere—here and there—illusions of glaring phosphorescent lights countless as serpents.

He ran. He kept running frantically. His throat was parched dry, his tongue had hardened like a stone, and his heart felt as though it would leap up into his throat. Whether it was a path or not, with no sense of direction, he simply ran and ran—yet finally reached the main road. When he reached the sparsely lined streetlights, a house flickering into view through the trees, and finally a thatched-roof house that appeared to be a snack shop, he abruptly clattered open the shoji screen and stumbled into its dirt-floored entryway.

By the time this matter reached the local police station and several officers set out for the eerie mansion in the forest with Kamiya—who had somewhat recovered his vigor—acting as their guide, a considerable amount of time had passed. And when they emerged from the grove—flashlights in hand after following a side path from the main road—Kamiya, leading the group, stopped dead in his tracks at whatever he had spotted. "What's wrong? Do you see something?"

One of the police officers shouted. They too had heard about the monster and found this manhunt rather eerie.

“Look—look at that!” “What on earth is that fire?” When they looked in the direction Kamiya had indicated, there indeed appeared to be a mass of flames burning fiercely like a great will-o’-the-wisp near the eerie mansion in the forest. “Oh, it’s a fire!” “Yeah, that’s right.” “Hey, you—you said you set fire to shirts and such when you escaped, right?” “That must have spread out of control, right?” The police officers said in unison.

“No, that can’t be possible. It was just a single scrap of cloth. The old man must have stomped it out. And if that had been the source, it should have spread much faster.”

Kamiya could not contain his bewilderment.

Resolving to go regardless, they began walking. As they gradually drew nearer to the forest, the flames swelled larger with each passing moment, and by the time they arrived, it had already become an unstoppable conflagration. The crackling of objects popping; crimson-black tongues of flame gushing from every window; billowing black smoke coiling upward; the thunderous crash of part of the roof collapsing already; sparks flaring up abruptly—the entire forest blazed bright as noon, every tree trunk lining the path half-stained vermilion and standing out in stark relief.

“Hmm, they set the fire themselves to cover up their crimes.” “By now, they must have disappeared somewhere.” “Hey, someone go back to the station and arrange for a cordon.” “And get the fire department.” “At this point, there’s nothing more we can do.” “In any case, putting out the fire is the first priority.”

In response to the senior officer’s command, one police officer ran off, swinging his flashlight. The remaining people circled around the eerie mansion at a distance from the flames, keeping their eyes peeled for any suspicious figures, but there was no way the villains would still be loitering around the scene by that point, and within the brightly illuminated forest, there was not a single trace of anything suspicious. Thus, driven to a last resort by the escape of the murder witness, the Endō father and son set fire to their den, destroyed all evidence of their crimes, and vanished without a trace.

Needless to say, they had vanished to escape punishment. But even if they feared punishment, could that bloodthirsty beastman truly hide his claws and fangs for the rest of his life? But no—rather than that, could they truly forget their resentment toward Kamiya, who had their precious den burned down and reported their crimes to the authorities? They were the ones who had calmly taken Hiroko’s life merely because they had lost a single beast. Compared to that, this hatred—layered many times over—could they possibly be satisfied with merely targeting Kamiya’s life?

Could Kamiya truly remain safe? Even if his own life remained safe, could something—something even more tormenting—still occur to plague him?

From Kamiya’s perspective, the Endō father and son were enemies he could never hate enough. He wished to search every blade of grass to find them and avenge this grudge.

A conflict woven with fathomless enmity—ah, what fate indeed lay in wait for them?

Egawa Ranko

A little over a year had passed since that accursed day when Yoshio Kamiya had been forced to witness, in all its gruesome detail, the bizarre and brutal end of his lover—a death unlike any ever experienced by another soul. At the time, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the shock, his inherently bright and cheerful personality seemed to have undergone a complete transformation. By day as illusion, by night as dream, the death throes visage of his lover Hiroko overlapped with the face of that monster—whether human or beast—and with every conceivable hellish tableau continued to haunt him. He could not help but constantly feel his very life was in danger, wondering if the beastman father and son—burning with resentment over having their lair taken from them—were honing their claws for revenge.

But the power of time was terrifying. The passage of time would gradually erode even the deepest sorrows，fears，or anger.

After that, despite all police searches, the Human Leopard father and son completely vanished without a trace. There were also those who speculated they had 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. But no—what faded was not limited to that. Even the memory of Hiroko—his beloved whom he had once loved so passionately—and even the heartache of losing her now faded into obscurity.

The reason for this was that Kamiya had come by a new lover… Or rather, his callousness must not be blamed. The reason he fell in love with her was precisely because he needed to forget Hiroko from his past.

At that time in the city, two rival major revue theaters overwhelmed all other entertainments and monopolized the popularity of young people. Among them, in one of the revue troupes, there was a beautiful girl named Egawa Ranko, who was hailed as its queen and diva. A voice alluring in its Japanese sensibility; an exceptionally beautiful face; a mysteriously sweet smile that enraptured and excited all the young men and women of the city; a plump, mature body in her nineteenth year—this Egawa Ranko, the popular actress whom the entire city yearned to adore, was Kamiya’s second lover.

Until then, Kamiya had shown almost no interest in revues. One day, as he idly flipped through the pages of an entertainment magazine, a close-up of Egawa Ranko abruptly caught his attention. For an instant, he felt as if it were a photo of the deceased Hiroko—so strikingly did this diva resemble his former lover. He abruptly became a revue fan and began frequenting the box seats at Daito Theater nearly every day. As he repeatedly witnessed Ranko’s performances on stage, his new passion began to burn with increasing intensity.

In Diva Egawa Ranko were present all the beauty and charm that Hiroko had once possessed, magnified tenfold. Regarding Kamiya’s innate longing, it seemed that Hiroko had been its shadow, and Ranko was the true form he had finally discovered.

Kamiya enjoyed inviting Ranko out to have tea together as one of many competing young men. Their drives alone also occurred two or three times, growing increasingly frequent. The young men were no longer Kamiya’s enemies.

Kamiya was not an ugly young man. Though a company employee, he was the son of an executive with a guaranteed future. He never lacked spending money either. Moreover, he possessed an unwavering passion. It came as no surprise that Ranko too had begun showing him extraordinary favor.

Kamiya was already behaving like her fiancé, not only visiting her dressing room but also picking her up and dropping her off at her home. Secretly, they had spent late nights at suburban inns more than once or twice. To him, the present Ranko was, so to speak, a reincarnation of the Hiroko of old. Therefore, precisely because he had to forget Hiroko, he did not even recall her; yet along with that, even the terrifying memory of that human beast Endō had faded all the more—a phenomenon so strange it defied understanding. He now found even the fact that such a monster had existed in this world to seem like some absurd fairy tale.

It was spring, when flowers bloomed. When one found love, their heart soared into the sky. But amidst the blooming flowers’ shadows, a grotesque, spectral black wind lay in wait. It was precisely when he had momentarily forgotten its existence that the demonic entity stood right behind him. Eventually, one day, Kamiya at last had to recall—with a shudder—those terrifying eyes of the Human Leopard.

“Why did you stand me up last night and go home?” “We had made such a firm promise.” “I ended up making a complete fool of myself in front of the dressing room attendant!” The next day, when Kamiya confronted her about breaking their agreement, Ranko answered in this manner.

“Are you teasing me?” “Or have you become that forgetful?” “I was properly seen home.” “By the way, why were you so quiet in the car last night?” “It felt a bit odd.”

“Huh? I took you home?!” “Is that true?” “Couldn’t it be a mix-up from two days ago?”

Kamiya asked back, taken aback.

“Oh, then that… wasn’t you?” “But…” Though it was strange how he hadn’t spoken at all, whenever she addressed him as she would to Kamiya, he had responded, and when they parted, they had even exchanged their usual long handshake of lovers. If that wasn’t Kamiya… “Don’t tell me you’re saying that to scare me?” “Really?” “So it really wasn’t you?”

No matter how much she pressed, Kamiya’s answer remained unchanged. “Well… then, who on earth was that?”

Ranko was suddenly seized by unfathomable terror and turned pale before his eyes. The terror-stricken expression on her face—though inevitable—being an exact replica of the late Hiroko’s startled Kamiya. And as a natural progression, he could not help but recall what had once made Hiroko tremble with such an expression—the terrifying visage of that Human Leopard.

“Didn’t you see that man’s face?” “Without even seeing his face, you decided it was me?”

“Yes, but even you sometimes keep your mask on until we say goodbye… If I’d doubted even a little, I should’ve tried to take their mask off… but I just assumed it was you…”

Ah, what a ridiculous trend had emerged—this 'Review Mask' nonsense. It was all because such nonsense became popular that these kinds of mistakes happened. He who had always heartily endorsed those masks as a whimsical idea that added a touch of charm to revue-viewing now found himself unable to do anything but curse them.

The Age of Masks

“Review Mask.” It was truly a grotesque trend.

Humankind has had, since ancient times, a strong tendency to be terribly shy about exposing their natural-born faces in public. In Japan, hoods, woven hats, and headscarves have hidden people’s faces through the ages. In the West too, there was a time when every man wore a wig. There was a time when every woman wore thick veils. That masked balls delight people and false eyelashes sell to cherry blossom viewers are undoubtedly manifestations of this same human psychology.

Exploiting this human weakness, the “Review Mask” was devised. It all began when some delinquent youth or other, on a whim, donned a toy mask and entered the revue theater’s auditorium. First one imitated, then two—and by the time scattered masked spectators began catching people’s eyes, quick-witted merchants had branded them as “Review Masks,” applied for trademark registration, and flooded the market with identical celluloid masks.

Young spectators, particularly students and shop clerks, eagerly seized upon these masks, hiding their faces behind them to heckle the stage dancers with abandon. As for the schoolgirls, for their part, thanks to the camouflage of these masks, they could unreservedly cheer for their adored boyish-girls. Eventually, even adult men and women joined in, with the number of people using masks to conceal their slight embarrassment at attending revues steadily increasing.

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

The grand theater’s audience seats, both upper and lower tiers, were completely filled by a crowd of masks all bearing the exact same expression. The thousands of uniform faces in the audience seats were a more splendid sight than any magnificent stage. Moreover, the expressions of the "Review Masks" were indeed skillfully crafted. It was a simple molded mask—a masculinized version of the Okame mask from Kagura, with a mouth stretched wide into a leering grin—but its comical expression was so convincingly absurd that when those wearing the masks faced one another, they could not help but begin chuckling inside their masks, so lifelike was its mirth.

The trend of masks had a truly remarkable effect in brightening the atmosphere inside theaters. The stage dancers never stopped smiling. In response, thousands of spectators were grinning with exactly the same expression. Both the stage and audience seats had become as bright as another world. Drawn by rumors of the masks, even those who disliked revues flocked in droves to see the shows. Every theater was packed as long as it was called a revue. In other words, the "Review Mask" had now become a mascot for theater operators.

No—it was more than that. The "Review Masks" within theaters soon began gradually advancing into the streets. The majority of people strolling through Ginza’s night began transforming into the same smiling expression. Trains and subways alike were packed with men and women bearing identical expressions. To put it grandly, all of Tokyo began grinning with the same celluloid faces. When such a trend reached a certain extent, it was inevitable that negative effects would arise on one side. It was only natural that shirkers would hide behind masks and start playing all sorts of pranks, but what proved even more troublesome was the realization that these masks served as brazen disguises for villains. Masked shopliftings, masked burglaries, and even the term “Masked Robber” began appearing in the social pages of newspapers.

As described in the previous chapter, the scandalous incident where Egawa Ranko shared a car and even shook hands with a complete stranger could only have occurred during such a time of mask trend prevalence.

“It’s because nonsensical masks like these become fashionable that people dream up such tricks.” “You must be exceptionally cautious.” “If that fellow were truly wicked, he wouldn’t content himself with mere handshakes.” “From now on, verify it’s unquestionably me before entering any vehicle.”

Kamiya, harboring a faint suspicion that this might be the work of Endō the Human Leopard, subtly yet persistently cautioned her. Ranko, thoroughly frightened, had been careful enough since then, but she never could have imagined that a monster like the Human Leopard existed in this world. Moreover, her opponent’s deceptive methods were exceedingly cunning, so one night, she ended up boarding another imposter’s car.

“Ranko, before heading home tonight, let’s make a little detour.” The masked man—whom Ranko believed to be Kamiya—spoke in a voice like someone with a cold from within the dark car. “Yes, but where are we stopping?” “Yeah, it’s close by.” “I have something to surprise you with.” “Of course, it’s the kind of surprise that’ll make you happy!”

“So, what could it be? You’re being coy!” “You’re being coy!” “Yeah, yeah—coy.” “Heh heh heh… You’ll be shocked for sure.”

Ranko finally noticed that the man’s voice was different from usual. “Oh, have you caught a cold? Your voice sounds strange.” “Yeah, it’s the spring breeze. The weather’s been so nice that I caught a cold.” “Who are you?… You are Mr. Kamiya, right?” “Ha ha ha ha, what are you saying such strange things? 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.”

“Yeah, you want me to take this off? “Sure, I can take it off.” “But wait a moment.” “I have something to show you.” “Here, this is for you.” The man said as he took out a small sack from his pocket, opened the lid with a snap, and presented it to Ranko. Even in the dim electric light, it was a diamond ring of about one carat, glittering with multicolored light.

“Oh，how beautiful!” “Is this for me?”

The revue girl, unaccustomed to luxury, became utterly exhilarated by this extravagant gift that must have cost tens of thousands of yen. "Yeah, I'll have you take it." "In other words, what you'd 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 still lies ahead." "You'll keep it carefully until the very end."

During such conversation, the car had, unnoticed, arrived at a house with a stately gate in Hamachō, a short distance from the theater.

It seemed arrangements had been made in advance, for the maid showed no suspicion toward the still-masked man as she guided them to a secluded small parlor—a six-tatami room adjoining a four-and-a-half-tatami space. With a pretentious lacquered round table between them, they took their seats, and soon tea, sweets, and sake were brought in. But the man still made no move to remove his mask. “This is a waiting room, isn’t it? “It’s strange.” “I must look strange in these clothes.” The bob-haired revue girl in Western dress and the small parlor of a waiting room made for a truly bizarre combination.

“Yeah, never mind that. Now hand over the 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 something,

“Oh my, you’re still wearing that mask. “It’s strange to keep it on in the parlor.” “Shall I take it off for you?” “Well, never mind that. Give me your hand—let’s deal with the ring first.” The man’s dusky, hairy hand shot out, grabbed Ranko’s left hand, and tried to slip on the ring. The moment she saw that hand, she jolted and involuntarily half-rose.

“No! Let go of me! Who are you?… You’re not Mr. Kamiya… Hurry, hurry—take off that mask and show me your face!” “Hahahaha! There’s no need to rush me so much—I’ll show you right now. See, the man who got engaged to you—that’s me.”

With one hand still tightly gripping Ranko’s hand—now wearing the ring—he used his other hand to tear off the Review Mask. What appeared from beneath was—though Ranko was seeing it for the first time—the unmistakable Human Leopard: Endō’s gaunt, dark face.

“Hahahaha! I went through quite a lot of trouble, you know.” “I had to order clothes identical to Kamiya’s, style my hair in an all-back look, and put on a fake voice.” “But now that you’ve accepted the engagement ring, I can finally relax.” “Surely you’re not going to say you’ll return that ring, are you?” Ranko did not yet know the terror of Endō. She had merely sensed him as a vaguely creepy man. “I must have mistaken you for someone else.” “I will return this.” “And I’m leaving now.”

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 be willing to give it to you… but there’s a condition, you know.”

“Then I’ll press the bell and call the maid here.” “They won’t come even if you call.” “Even if you make a bit of noise, no one will come—it’s been arranged that way.” Ranko contorted her pale face and was on the verge of tears. “Oh, never mind that. Sit down there.” When Endō drew close to her, put his arm around her shoulder, and pushed forcefully, Ranko collapsed limply onto the zabuton cushion.

Endō’s large eyes, while gazing intently at the girl’s grimacing face, began to glow with an eerie phosphorescent light. His mouth gaped wide open, and like a dog on a summer day, he panted "Hah, hah" with labored breaths. From between his pure white, sharp teeth, that familiar barbed and grotesquely elongated tongue could be seen writhing like a sinister being. It was then that Ranko realized for the first time that this man was not an ordinary human. He was a beast. A ferocious beast in human guise.

Overwhelmed by terror, she felt her strength had utterly drained away, yet the mere thought of becoming this beast’s prey was an unbearable disgrace. Even if she mustered strength she didn’t have, she had to escape this crisis.

“No! I must leave no matter what.” “I must leave no matter what.” “But I won’t let you leave.” The beast continued bringing its sinister face closer to hers while mocking her in human speech. “Look, Ranko, I’m a persistent man.” “Once I resolve something—no matter how much you flee or stay guarded—I won’t stop until I achieve it.” “Think carefully.” “Don’t you value your life?” As he spoke, his hot cheek touched hers, and she felt five spider-like fingers creeping across her back.

A chill ran through her; every inch of her downy hair stood on end, and her blood seemed to flow backward. Ranko was already in a frenzy. Letting out an incomprehensible scream, she mustered a mad strength and, rising to her feet, charged at the sliding door. With a splintering, terrifying sound, a hole opened in the sliding door.

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

The Flower Girl Vanishes In the end, Endō the Beast-Man’s scheme ended in failure. He had underestimated revue girls far too naively. He had misunderstood that a single diamond could sufficiently buy her chastity.

Contrary to expectations, Ranko’s ferocity proved too intense—when she finally kicked through the sliding door in a commotion, even Endō was overwhelmed. He casually covered up the situation and safely sent her home. If the commotion grew any larger and became a police issue, Endō himself would be in danger. But the next day, after hearing the full account from Ranko, the young man Kamiya could not avoid reporting the matter to the police. Endō was a dreaded murderer wanted by the authorities.

Needless to say, the Hamachō teahouse was promptly investigated. However, it was discovered that the teahouse had absolutely no connection with Endō. They did not know Endō’s name or even his address.

After that, about five days passed without any particular incidents. Endō must have been hiding in his den at some unknown location. The police’s exhaustive search efforts ended in vain. The resolute Ranko took the stage without taking a break. At the theater, out of concern for the popular actress’s safety, they decided to have burly men escort her to and from work. Kamiya also left work early every day, stationed himself in Ranko’s dressing room, and remained vigilant.

What a cursed twist of fate this was. Kamiya and Endō’s preferences regarding the opposite sex matched perfectly, as if their tally marks had aligned. If not, could there be such a thing as both having fallen in love with Hiroko before and now Ranko simultaneously, as if by prior agreement? No, no—that might not be the case. That the Endō father and son were targeting Kamiya as their sworn enemy went without saying. In Ranko’s case this time, was it not merely a coincidence of shared preferences—but rather Endō’s ulterior motive to seize what Kamiya cherished, torment it, flaunt it before him, inflict endless anguish, and secretly revel in triumph?

The more he turned it over in his mind, the more Kamiya could not help but feel a terror that froze his very heart at the human beast’s unfathomable depths of obsession. Any moment now—any moment—he was certain to make another move. I must not take my eyes off Ranko. Even at the cost of my life, I must protect my lover. Unwilling though I was. He could not doubt the enemy’s attack. Sure enough, on the sixth night after the Hamachō incident, the Human Leopard attempted to abduct Egawa Ranko once again through a completely unexpected method that caught her guards entirely off guard.

At that moment, on the revue theater’s stage during a scene from *The Flower Girl of Paris*, a troupe of flower girls appeared in a garden where oleanders burst into bloom, singing and dancing. Among over a dozen chorus girls, there was one who stood out with her gorgeous attire—her voice, face, and gestures outshone the rest. This was the flower girl portrayed by Egawa Ranko, the protagonist of this scene. The audience seats in this masked era were packed beyond capacity with a massive crowd—every face bore exactly the same smile, as if pressed from a mold. From beneath those masks came a cacophony of deep and high-pitched voices—cheers so fierce they drowned out the song onstage—all focused solely on Egawa Ranko.

This was Ranko’s signature scene. She gracefully stepped out from the line of chorus girls, advanced to the center of the stage, and began singing the featured *Flower Girl’s Song* while lightly swaying the flower basket in her hand. It was at this very moment—as her sweet, alluring natural voice, the very source of her popularity, intertwined inseparably with the orchestral accompaniment, now soaring high, now sinking low, at times shattering like raging waves and at others murmuring like a gentle stream, captivating thousands of spectators through her mastery of melody—that *The Flower Girl of Paris* suddenly, truly suddenly, vanished from the stage. Egawa Ranko vanished like smoke.

The audience, overwhelmed by the sheer strangeness of it all, fell completely silent for a time. They could not comprehend the meaning of it at all. If it had been Tenkatsu’s magic show, they wouldn’t have been so bewildered. Because it might have been the grand illusion called “The Vanishing Flower Girl.” However, there could be no such plot in the revue’s script where the songstress, before even finishing her song, vanished as if erased.

“This is no ordinary matter!” A dreadful premonition flashed through the spectators’ minds. But compared to the spectators, the one struck by astonishment many times over was Egawa Ranko herself. While she was absorbed in singing, she suddenly felt an impact as though the floor beneath her feet was vanishing. Feeling dizzy and lightheaded, she collapsed sideways. When she came to her senses, the stage and audience seats around her had vanished, leaving her in a damp, dimly lit place like an underground cellar.

Ah, I see. In some mishap—the trapdoor plank gives way—and I drop into darkness below. This must be understage beneath the theater. No—that can't be right. Trapdoors don't collapse without cause. Someone rigged this. They'd sabotaged the platform beforehand—waited for me to step on—reversed pulleys like some macabre elevator—vanishing me mid-performance.

Then, who on earth would do such a pointless prank? Ranko instantly realized what had happened. Still collapsed on the suspended square plank, she abruptly lifted her face and peered into the dim understage—sure enough, three shadowy figures writhed there. When the trapdoor plank had fully descended, one of them approached her like a ghost. Ah, it’s him. Two phosphorescent lights glowed in the darkness. Beast-like breathing. Endō. The Human Leopard. Due to the strict vigilance preventing him from finding an opportunity to approach Ranko, he had devised such a bizarre kidnapping method. And given that he held a white object resembling a rolled-up handkerchief in his right hand, he undoubtedly intended to anesthetize Ranko, then carry her unconscious out of this understage.

Since it was a revue performance that didn’t even require a revolving stage, at that moment, not a single shadow of any staff member could be seen in the understage.

Unaware that such a tragedy was unfolding beneath the stage, the audience remained motionless and silent. They waited in breathless silence, hands sweating with tension, wondering what horror would come next. Then, just as anticipated, a scream like tearing silk echoed through the theater before thinning into a threadlike wisp and vanishing. Ranko was enduring some manner of terrifying ordeal. The entire audience—both upper and lower tiers—rose to their feet. A frothing wave of murmurs surged up. But what a bizarre spectacle it was. In this terrifying instant, the thousands of spectators who had risen wore expressions that stood in stark contrast to their inner turmoil—uniformly smiling faces. They were the cheerful visages of celluloid “Review Masks.” The countless laughing masks seemed to roar in unison, as though Egawa Ranko’s dreadful fate were unbearably amusing to them.

Theater of Darkness

That night, the audience at Daiho Theater witnessed an unprecedented grand spectacle—more gorgeous, frenzied, and dynamic than any grand revue that had ever thrilled them—with hands sweating, hearts pounding, and storm-like fervor. The leads of this grand play were the Human Leopard and Egawa Ranko; the supporting role was Ranko’s lover, the young man Kamiya; and as for the multitude of chorus girls—stern policemen in uniform.

The overture to the Grand Revue of Blood was a grotesque scene where Egawa Ranko, playing the flower girl, was in mid-solo when the trapdoor platform descended and she abruptly vanished from the stage.

They heard Ranko’s blood-curdling scream reaching them from deep underground. The stage scene with oleanders blooming in profusion fell into utter silence for a time, as though a film projector had ceased turning. Over a dozen chorus girls stood motionless like dolls before the backdrop. The orchestra hushed. Only the gaping trapdoor opening at center stage loomed ominously like a demon’s maw.

And while both audience seats and stage were sealed in eerie silence, beneath the stage in the understage, a beast—clutching the beautiful actress rendered unconscious by anesthetic under his arm—ran like a madman through the dark underworld of the vault. The understage had multiple exits, but the one Endō aimed for was the passage leading out to the vacant lot behind the theater. He had bribed a stagehand and obtained the key to that door. In the outer darkness, his subordinate’s car must be waiting.

He dragged Ranko’s legs across the concrete floor as he ran frantically until he reached the door. Then, placing his hand on it and starting to open it an inch or two, he suddenly gasped and slammed it shut again. Oh no. What on earth was happening? Outside that usually deserted door—wasn’t that a swarming crowd? Uniformed police officers stood among them. When Endō cracked the door open, there was the startling back of an officer right before him—and that very officer turned around suspiciously at the sound. It would later be learned that at that exact moment, drunkards had been fighting outside the door, leaving one collapsed and bleeding.

Endō started running back the way he had come. And when he reached the front of the electric motor room, under the dim light there stood the stagehand he had bribed. “What’s wrong?” “Where are you going?” The man, seeing Endō’s frenzied state, asked in surprise. “It’s no use.” “You can’t get out that way.” The monster gasped.

“Ah! Oh no.” “Listen! Those footsteps.” “People are here.” “There ain’t just one or two of ’em.” “We’ve gotta get outta here!” “But where to?” “Where are we supposed to run?!” “It’s no use.” “There ain’t any escape routes.” “Other than that back door, no matter which way you go, it’s a crowd of people.” “Then you—please go to the switchboard room upstairs and turn off all lights.” “Plunge this building into darkness.” “In that time, I’ll slip into the audience seats.” “Your reward will be three times what we agreed.”

It was the last resort. “Alright, I’ll do it.” “Hurry and escape over here!” “It’s a shortcut to backstage.” The man spoke dismissively and ran off ahead. Endō, clutching his lover tenaciously, chased after him. On the stage, the chorus girls playing flower sellers had gathered in one spot and were trembling in fear. The audience seats remained standing as they buzzed with unease. “The curtain! Lower the curtain!”

A faint screaming voice could be heard from somewhere. But for some reason, the curtain simply wouldn’t come down. Then, suddenly, the stage was plunged into darkness. “Ah—they turned off the lights instead of lowering—” Before that thought could finish, everything suddenly brightened again. And then, this time, every single light in the auditorium went out all at once. From backstage, the incomprehensible shouts of several people echoed, mingling together.

Instantly, the auditorium became as bright as day. Even the lights that had been turned off for stage effects were all lit up.

And then, in the next instant, all the lights in the entire building began flickering ominously like lightning. In sync with the audience’s anxious heartbeats, the dizzying alternation of light and dark began. A terrible uproar erupted in the audience seats that had fallen silent. A roar cursing the theater staff surged like a chorus. Men’s shouts, women’s shrieks, children’s screams.

When the lights flashed on, thousands of people were laughing with exactly the same grinning faces. Beneath those smiles, anger, curses, tears, and screams—countless varied passions—surged forth. Before long, the specter-like flickering of the lights ceased abruptly, and a prolonged darkness descended. The entire massive theater—stage, audience seats, corridors—was engulfed in deathly darkness. The audience’s roar grew even more intense.

The timid people who could no longer endure their anxiety—female guests and others—rushed through the darkness toward the entrance like a tsunami. Those trampled screamed; those knocked down wailed; chairs crashed; fabric tore. But after a while, amid that commotion, the venue once again became bright as day. And then, the meaningless flickering ceased entirely.

Suddenly, on the stage illuminated by dazzling electric light, a bizarre figure loomed.

Disheveled hair, a dusky face with unnaturally gleaming eyes, fang-like white teeth visible between bright red lips, a wrinkled black suit. “That’s him! That’s the criminal! The man who kidnapped Ranko—it’s him!” Suddenly, an earsplitting scream erupted from the audience seats. A young man wearing that familiar mask raced like a whirlwind down the theater aisle toward the stage. Even as he ran, he kept shouting.

“Gentlemen! This is the infamous Human Leopard—the great demon who’s the murderer of café girls!”

That was the young man Kamiya, who had been watching over his lover Egawa Ranko from among the spectators. It was Kamiya Yoshio, driven half-mad as he faced losing first Hiroko and now this new lover to the beast. A shower of paper blossoms. Endō had been delayed by some complication, causing his plan to slip from the stage into the audience during the darkness to fail; now, under unexpectedly swift illumination, he stood frozen in shock. He had no choice but to shamelessly expose his ugly beastly form in full view of the crowd.

Moreover, right before his eyes was a masked figure rushing toward him—pointing at him, exposing his true identity, shouting denunciations of his past misdeeds. The Human Leopard, pitifully flustered, darted back and forth across the stage like a beast caught in a trap. He couldn’t turn back. He couldn’t move forward. Backstage, a young staff member blocked the way and held his ground. In front loomed a mountain of spectators. If he couldn’t escape sideways, there remained only upward. He finally revealed his leopard-like nature and began clawing up the proscenium pillar’s backside with ferocious force.

It was beyond human capability. It was a plastered cylindrical pillar with no footholds whatsoever. With that, he vanished into the ceiling with the swiftness of a cat.

Above the stage, hidden behind the horizontal curtain, branching out like spider legs, every conceivable mechanical contraption was rigged. Thick bamboo poles of the light blue curtain, shelves with attached light bulbs for illumination, main rainwater pipes, baskets for releasing paper snow.

The Human Leopard managed to escape all the way to the center of the ceiling by traversing those shelves and bamboo poles. He crouched on the lighting shelf there, his visage identical to a supernatural cat from old plays—sharpening his claws, baring his fangs, his phosphorescent eyes blazing fiercely—as he gauged the momentum of the crowd far below. “Someone, please catch that monster! That monster’s surely already killed Ranko. He’s a murderer!”

Kamiya leaped onto the stage and cried out in an anguished voice. Two police officers who happened to be in the auditorium came running over, but even cops weren’t exactly skilled at climbing trees. “Hey! Isn’t there anyone who can get up there?” From among the veteran stagehands emerged a burly, agile young man. “I’ll go.” “Ain’t no problem if I use that ladder over there.” “Gonna drag that bastard down!”

He pushed through the crowd and rushed to the ladder. He was indeed accustomed to such things. With a swiftness rivaling the Human Leopard’s, he raced up the vertical ladder and nimbly traversed the narrow shelves along the ceiling, rapidly closing in on Endō. From the audience seats, the horizontal curtain blocked their view of this superb action drama, but seeing it flutter fiercely like a storm, they could vividly imagine the ferocity of the struggle unfolding there.

Whenever the snow paper basket swayed on the ceiling, an untimely five-colored snow swirled and billowed down upon the stage. On the rows of artificial oleander flowers, on the flower-selling girls fleeing in confusion, on the masks of spectators who had surged onto the stage, on police officers’ hats and epaulets—beautiful five-colored snow fell thick and fast. It wasn’t just snow. The gold and silver ribbons prepared for the revue’s final scene glittered as one, two, three strands unraveled and began dangling from the ceiling—then, in an instant, with the force of a driving rain, dozens, then hundreds of gold and silver bands rained violently down toward the stage.

The backdrop and people scrambling across the stage appeared engulfed by gold-silver rain and five-colored snow—while above them, upon the dazzlingly ornate stage ceiling where blossoms scattered down, a fierce battle raged endlessly to the accompaniment of beastly roars. On the stage, swirling paper snow had piled into a towering mound before anyone noticed. When they suddenly became aware, something dripped onto the snow—plip-plop like raindrops. It was bright red rain. With each drip, the snow paper rapidly soaked through crimson.

“Ah! He’s done it! Blood—it’s blood!” “Blood! Blood!” The crowd shouted in horror. On the ceiling, the leopard’s claws tore into the brave young stagehand. The gushing blood from his wounds became a crimson rain that dyed the snow paper red. The young man now fought desperately for his life. If he remained still like this, he would only be strangled. If his fate was sealed regardless, he resolved to drag this monster down with him—to stake everything on a final, life-risking gamble.

While being strangled until his breath was nearly gone, he clung desperately to his opponent’s body and, in the same motion, suddenly lifted both legs that had been braced against the shelf into the air. Even the monster had no power to resist this desperate surprise attack. No sooner had an indescribably anguished roar echoed across the ceiling than their entangled bodies came spiraling down through the swirling paper snow to crash upon the stage.

But the wild beast was inherently agile. No sooner had he crashed down with a thunderous noise than he stood upright before the astonished crowd. Looking closer, his ugly face—when had he donned it?—was hidden behind that familiar laughing mask. Meanwhile, the valiant young man lay motionless beneath his opponent, tragically outmatched by the creature’s nimbleness, unable to even twitch. The corpse-like body’s chest—grotesquely stained with blood—was swiftly buried under cascading snow paper.

“There! Don’t let him escape!” The people on stage charged forward as a single mass, targeting Endō, who had risen to his feet. Indescribable chaos—on top of the one who had fallen, a mountain of people piled layer upon layer, the majority still wearing those celluloid masks. A soccer match of laughing masks.

“We’ve got him!” “This one!” “This one!” “Officers, tie this guy up!”

At the scream, the pile of people collapsed.

When he looked, there, covered in five-colored snow paper, one masked man was pinning down another masked man.

The one who pinned him down was Kamiya Yoshio. The one being pinned down must be the Human Leopard. But what a feeble figure for a Human Leopard. Even he must have been utterly exhausted from the prolonged struggle, allowing the physically weaker young Kamiya to gain the upper hand.

“The mask! Quickly—please take off the mask!”

Kamiya, his hands occupied, called out to the person beside him. “Alright, I’ll take it off!” A young man leaped at the face of the man struggling beneath him and tore off the laughing mask.

“Ah—…” A scream of astonishment erupted instantly.

“Wrong person. “This isn’t Endō.” The young Kamiya jumped up and looked around wildly.

Excluding the stagehands and chorus girls, every last one of them was masked. Those masks, against their wearers’ wills, grinned mockingly as though ridiculing Kamiya’s failure.

“Everyone, remove your masks. “The culprit is hiding among you all. “Quickly! Remove your masks!”

At Kamiya’s shout, the people hurriedly reached for their faces. Once the masks were off, it would be all over. The Human Leopard was hiding among the crowd on stage—there was no doubt about it. But, ah! At that very moment—when they were on the verge of discovering and apprehending the fiend—the entire venue was suddenly plunged into pitch darkness once more. Endō’s ally, who had been hiding in the electrical room, saved him in the nick of time.

The Bizarre Backstage “Everyone, please remove your masks.” “The culprit may have slipped into the audience seats.” A theater staff member shouted in a loud voice. The thousands of spectators’ uniform smiles vanished in an instant. From beneath the removed masks emerged the unadorned faces of old and young, men and women—beautiful and ugly alike. People gazed suspiciously at those seated beside them. Could that man with the prim face be the Human Leopard? The guy grinning over here seemed suspicious too. Everyone felt as though a terrifying killer lurked right beside them.

A deathly silence occupied the entire theater. They were filled with the urge to scream at the top of their lungs and flee, yet devoid of even the energy to escape, standing rigidly in place without moving a muscle. And thousands of eyes—only eyes—trembling with extreme terror, were glaring intently at each other. But in the audience seats, on the stage, and backstage, they could not find that distinctive face of Endō anywhere.

Soon, over a dozen police officers who had rushed from the nearby Metropolitan Police Department, with the cooperation of theater staff, searched from the dressing rooms to backstage, from the ceiling to every nook of the understage, but ultimately could not discover any trace of the beast-man. It wasn’t only Endō. As for the victim, Ranko Egawa—when and from where she had been taken away—not even a shadow of her could be seen. The revue had no choice but to be canceled midway through its performance. The packed audience, subjected to unpleasant identity checks by the police officers lined up at the exits, left grumbling complaints.

When not a single spectator remained, another thorough search was conducted, but it still yielded nothing. They couldn’t even determine which exit he had used to escape. After over an hour of futile efforts, the police officers withdrew for the time being. The revue girls and theater staff members were also permitted to return home. All that remained in the building—now as desolate as a graveyard—were seven night watchmen lingering uneasily.

Because of what had happened, seven men—scaffolders and brawny stagehands—were carefully selected and ordered to keep watch through the night.

They huddled together in a tatami-floored room near the stage door, sipping chilled sake straight from the flask while making idle talk. "I tell ya, I can't shake this feelin' that bastard's still holed up in some corner of this shack." "Cut it out." "Quit tryin' to spook us." "They didn't search proper-like, so there's no way he'd still be hidin' here now." "Hey you."

Then, the third man tilted his head and,

“Hmm, but I can’t really say for sure.” “After all, when it comes to backstages and understages in theaters, they’re practically like garbage dumps.” “If someone wants to hide, one person can hide just about anywhere.”

Yet another one of them, “If he’s hidin’ anywhere, it’s gotta be the understage, I tell ya.” “Look, back then, just when we all thought we had him pinned down, he’d already vanished somewhere.” “Ain’t that weird?” “No matter how quick he is, there’s no way he could’ve escaped that fast.” “That bastard must’ve jumped into the trapdoor back then, I tell ya.” “Yakko, ain’t he squirming around under the floor right about now?” 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.

No other building feels as eerily desolate as an emptied-out theater. Just imagining the sight of not a single person sitting in the thousands of chairs in the audience seats was enough to send a shiver down one’s spine. Moreover, late at night after such a bizarre incident, to think that within a deathly silent edifice, there were only seven living souls… Even these burly men couldn’t help but feel unsettled.

“By the way—if that guy’s still in this shack, what’s happened to Ranko?” “She’d obviously be with him, wouldn’t she?” “Is she alive?”

No one answered. The people fell silent as if startled, exchanging uneasy glances. That's right—it couldn't be said the beast hadn't killed that beautiful actress. There was no guarantee Ranko's blood-soaked corpse wasn't lying somewhere in the surrounding darkness. "Ugh! No! I can't take this!" "Hey everyone—let's stop this talk!" Someone shouted with unnerving loudness.

“Shh… quiet for a sec.” The man in the corner suddenly shot a glare full of terror and hushed the others. “What’s that… Hey… Don’t you hear that?… That voice.” The group instinctively strained their ears. From somewhere far away came the faintest echo of what sounded like a woman’s scream. “Hey—ain’t that Ranko’s voice?” “Yeah… sounds like her.” “Where though?” The hotheaded young men were already on their feet.

“It’s like the understage, I tell ya.” “No—it might be backstage.” “Hey, everyone—let’s go check it out.”

The men stomped out into the corridor, too impatient to properly slip into their sandals as they jostled to outpace each other. The majority descended into the understage, but there were two who circled around to backstage. They were a young stagehand and his scaffolder friend. They were not at all afraid of the darkness of the understage. They believed the earlier scream had come from backstage. The stage, cleared of its set pieces, was as spacious as an open field. From the high ceiling hung several bare light bulbs. Unlike the lighting during a performance, it felt dim and feeble, like a park’s night light, casting an unsettling gloom.

The large double circle of the revolving stage lay completely exposed. On both sides of the prop storage areas—leaving several narrow pathways—painted backdrops, various props, thatch mats, and the like were haphazardly crammed together. The two men stood at the center of the revolving stage, hesitating over where to search, when suddenly another eerie scream echoed through the air.

A shrill “Awa-wa-wa” sound—muffled and stifled as if smothered by something—echoed through the vast hollow of the stage. “Hey—told ya it’s here.”

“Yeah, seems like it came from over there.” The two men muffled their footsteps and slipped into the narrow passageway of what seemed to be the prop storage area. They rummaged through thatch mats, shifted painted backdrops, and circled the area with vigilant eyes, yet found no trace of anyone in any corner.

“This is downright bizarre, I tell ya.” “It definitely came from around here, I tell ya.” “Quiet. They mustn’t hear us. Let’s wait here for a while, I tell ya.”

The two men squatted in the narrow, dimly lit passageway, whispering to each other. Directly in front of where they crouched, three thatch mats stood propped up, and beyond them loomed vaguely—like a giant demon—a large papier-mâché seated statue of Buddha, used as a prop for a Japanese dance performance. “Huh, there was a rustling sound just now, wasn’t there?”

“It’s probably a rat.” “No way that’s a rat. Seems like this area’s the source of the stench, I tell ya.”

Suddenly, they gasped sharply and exchanged glances. From right beside them came a strange groan—*“Uun”*—followed by the thudding sound of something being kicked. “Hey, look! There’s something suspicious in there, I tell ya!” “Yeah, that’s right. You ready?” “Take him down!” Their eyes exchanged that unspoken message. And then, when their breaths synchronized, they stood up and immediately lunged with terrifying force at the papier-mâché Buddha statue there.

The lightweight papier-mâché Buddha statue toppled sideways with a single thrust. At the same time, what had been hidden inside the Buddha statue was exposed before their eyes. A pitch-black figure smoothly rose to its feet, glaring in their direction without attempting to flee. Around the man’s face, two round, phosphorescent glows remained utterly motionless. They were leopard’s eyes. Indeed, Endō had been hiding there. At Endō’s feet lay the flower girl, her skin exposed. Needless to say, it was Egawa Ranko. The beast must have been hiding inside this Buddha statue all along with his lovely prey—just the two of them.

The stagehand and scaffolder stood frozen, unnerved by their opponent’s unnerving composure, unable to make a move.

A long, silent glaring match continued.

“Just the two of you?”

An eerily sinister voice reverberated. The Human Leopard spoke. “What?!” The scaffolder bluffed, replying in an equally hushed tone. “You two… don’t know my strength?” In the dimness, fang-like white teeth seemed to materialize midair. Two phosphorescent glows blazed fiercely, as though doused with oil.

The fiend, as though grasping at empty air with both hands, inched menacingly closer. “Damn it, let’s finish him!” The scaffolder, shouting recklessly, lunged to grapple the black shadow. The stagehand was not one to lag behind either; seizing an opening, he entangled himself around the monster’s legs. “Hey! Come quick! We’ve caught the villain!”

While grappling with him, the two men called out in unison for backup from those in the understage area. Tiger. It was a struggle between humans and beast. Eerie roars and senseless shouts mingled as three bodies twisted in a whirling tangle, rolling across the floorboards. Though two against one, humans proved no match for the creature. Before they knew it, Endō’s sharp claws gripped the young men’s throats. “Where? Where’s he?”

“Oh, over there! They’re grappling over there!” “They’re grappling over there!” Thudding footsteps approached as many rushed in. The young men who had descended to the understage heard the earlier screams and hurried to the scene. Even the fiercest beast could not withstand seven youths at once. Endō, sensing peril, tore free from his grapplers, leapt back, bolted into the prop room, scrambled up the leaning painted flats with a clatter, and vanished into the ceiling’s darkness instantly.

“He escaped! Guard the exits!” “Someone call the police!” One person ran to the telephone room; the rest brought out a ladder and climbed to the top of the stacked-painted flats—but wherever he had hidden, there was no trace of him by then. Once again, the search backstage began. People rushed about among the props; some climbed the vertical iron ladder to scan the area below from the ceiling. The bizarre leopard hunt showed no sign of ending anytime soon.

“Hey, everyone’s disappeared somewhere, isn’t they?” The scaffolder and the young stagehand—the two of them—had been left behind in their original spot. “Yeah, with just this handful of people, searching this huge shed’s impossible.” “Let’s quit already.” “Leave the rest to the cops.” “Yeah, alright. Let’s take Ranko over to that room, shall we?” “Poor thing—she’s still out cold, lyin’ sprawled on the wooden floor.”

“Alright, that sounds good.” They maneuvered through the painted flats, lifted Ranko’s limp body from both sides, and tried to exit the prop storage. “Oh, something strange has fallen here.” “Who on earth brought this to a place like this?”

The young stagehand discovered a large tiger costume lying flattened under the straw matting at his feet and muttered. “This here’s the one they wear in the first act, ain’t it? Must be what they call a tiger costume.” “Ain’t this thing usually dumped around here?” The scaffolder answered. “Nah, that ain’t it. This gets stored in the costume room, you know.” “It’s strange for it to be in a place like this.” “Maybe someone carelessly brought it out during tonight’s commotion, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, maybe that’s what happened.”

The two men passed absently through the spot and walked down the dark corridor toward the stage door entrance, their footsteps clumsy and unsteady.

Then, a truly strange thing occurred. No sooner had the straw matting rustled than the tiger costume that had been flattened beneath it began to stir and bulge. There was no way an inanimate costume would move on its own. If it was moving, there had to be a human inside. The area was extremely dimly lit, and since it had been beneath the straw matting, the two men never imagined there could be anything inside the tiger costume—but in truth, something must have been lurking within.

Soon, the stuffed tiger costume jerked upright and began shambling after the two retreating figures.

A luxurious stuffed animal costume made with real fur. The sight of it crawling on all fours down the dimly lit corridor looked exactly like a living tiger. While the two men returned to the Japanese-style room, tidied the area, and prepared Ranko’s bedding, the tiger slipped past the front of the room and collapsed limply behind the row of actors’ geta boxes. As it lay there, at first glance it appeared to be nothing more than a stuffed animal.

After a while, there came the sound of many footsteps outside the large door at the stage entrance, accompanied by voices as they began knocking. Hearing this, the young stagehand rushed out of the room. “Who’s there? Could you be from the police—?” When he called out loudly, a reply came from outside identifying them as members of the Metropolitan Police Department. The young man removed the latch and opened the large door with a clatter. “I hear he’s been found.” “Where is he?” “Hurry and show us.”

About ten police officers poured in all at once and urgently questioned the young man.

“Well, this way, please.” The young man took the lead and guided them to the room where Ranko was sleeping. The officers clattered after him.

“Hey—there’s a tiger in a place like this!” “What a dangerous joke!”

A police officer spotted the costume sprawled in the corner behind the geta boxes and quipped. “Oh dear, oh dear—it’s fallen here again.” “That’s strange… Oh, come on—this is just a stage costume.” “It’s not gonna bite.” The young man shot back a joke. But before those words had even finished, the tiger—which everyone had assumed was merely a fake costume—nimbly rose up on all fours.

"Agh...!" Even the officers couldn't help letting out cries of surprise. They huddled together in a corner of the corridor and froze in place. "Hahahaha! Serves you right!"

A mocking voice could be heard from somewhere.

And then, the ferocious tiger leapt in one bound and dashed out toward the still-open stage door entrance like a gust of wind. “That’s him! That bastard stole the costume and had the gall to come up with this outlandish disguise! Please hurry and chase him! That’s the culprit!” The stagehand shouted.

The police officers rushed to the doorway as one. The world outside was awash in icy moonlight. On the smooth asphalt road bathed in that moonlight, a ferocious tiger ran as if it were a bizarre phantom. The police officers raised a battle cry and gave chase. But the tiger fled with terrifying speed. Swiftly, the distance between pursuer and pursued widened. And after winding through the moonlit town’s many bends, before they knew it, the pursuers lost sight of the beast.

“Hey, that might actually be a real tiger. A human crawling on all fours—how on earth could anyone run that fast?”

The police officers stood rooted in the moonlight, dazedly, as if they had witnessed a strange dream.

Demon’s Footprints

That night, after all spectators had left Dai-Tokyo Theater, Yoshio Kamiya remained behind until the police concluded their search, waiting with sweating palms for results. But when he realized that not only Endō the Human Leopard but even Ranko Egawa had vanished without a trace, he became utterly dejected and staggered out of the theater like a sleepwalker. Blinded by despair, unaware of where or how he walked yet somehow reaching home safely, he said nothing to the maid who greeted him and offered no greetings to his family. He entered the sitting room of the detached wing and rolled into the futon laid out there.

Oh, what a terrible thing. The demon had once again snatched away his lover. Eventually Ranko too would suffer the same fate as Hiroko had before. No—she might already be dead. A horrifying phantom—limbs torn asunder and drenched in blood—rose vividly behind his eyelids. "What am I supposed to do?" "Damn it all—what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Biting his lips until they bled, he writhed in helpless rage.

"When it comes to that bastard, even the police are powerless." "What the hell am I supposed to do about that?" "He isn't human—he's a wild beast." "That beast is my rival in love." "Tch—I'd been fighting an animal over one woman."

He lay in his futon, tossing and turning endlessly, lost in futile thoughts.

Eventually, overcome by exhaustion, he began to nod off—only to find himself confronted by terrifying nightmares. Before his eyes, Ranko’s pale flesh and the Human Leopard’s bony frame were writhing madly in every conceivable posture. And in the end, the dream world was drenched in vivid crimson blood. He saw a crimson dream. He saw a crimson dream of murder.

Tap-tap, tap-tap—the ceaseless, strange noise suddenly roused him from sleep. Is it the wind? No—it’s not the wind. Someone was knocking on the rain shutters of the window from the garden. “Who’s there?” Even when he shouted, there was no answer, and the sound continued.

Kamiya jumped up still in his nightclothes and swiftly slid open the window’s shoji and rain shutters. He had never even dreamed that such a thing could exist. He opened the window to check whether something was hanging from the eaves and knocking against the rain shutters.

But when he pushed against the rain shutters and peeked outside in one swift motion, he was so startled that he instinctively leaped back onto the futon. There, backlit by the cascading moonlight, an unimaginably terrifying figure stood silently watching. The fur tracing its silhouette glistened silvery under the lunar glow. Its entire body was sheathed in fur. A creature meant to crawl on all fours stood rigidly upright with forelegs dangling midair, like a begging dog. It was a massive tiger.

Kamiya was so taken aback by the appearance of such an unexpected animal that he felt more dumbfounded than afraid. He had once heard a story about a tiger that escaped from a zoo cage. Had that incredibly rare incident just occurred? And had the ferocious beast that had wandered from town to town now coincidentally come to his room’s window? But strangely, this tiger had mastered the technique of knocking on the rain shutters in a manner indistinguishable from a human. And why was this guy standing on his hind legs?

“Ahahahaha! Surprised, huh?” Suddenly, the tiger spoke. Upon hearing that, Kamiya was utterly astonished. Even if it were a dream, what a bizarre one this was. “Kamiya, have you forgotten this voice?” “You couldn’t have forgotten, I suppose.” “Recall—about a year ago at Café Aphrodite, it’s the voice you first heard.” The tiger continued speaking in a gloomy voice. I see—this guy is the Human Leopard Endō. And yet, when had he transformed into the form of a fierce tiger? Up until now, had the tiger been disguised as a human?

“You’re silent, aren’t you? “Is it that you’re afraid to utter my name? “Then I’ll say it myself. “I am Endō. “I am Endō—the one who tried to steal your lover.” Hearing this far, Kamiya comprehended everything. This man was wearing a tiger costume used in theatrical performances. He must have used that disguise to evade detection and escape from 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 safely back home.” “She had plenty of guards with her.” “It seems you haven’t heard about what happened afterward.” “I messed up.” “They finally found my hiding place.” “They took Ranko back from me.” “Hahaha.” “But it’s nothing.” “It’s just a minor slip-up.”

“Is that true?” “It’s true indeed.” “Precisely because it’s true, I’ve come to give you a little warning.” “Oh, I’ll be back soon, so you needn’t worry.” “I could easily grab and kill you here—” “But that would be too wasteful.” “I don’t plan to let you live forever—only after making you suffer far more first. Hahahaha!” The tiger shook its neck fur in the moonlight and laughed scornfully. Kamiya found himself on edge instead, anxious that the main house’s occupants might hear.

“But more than that—shouldn’t you be more careful? For instance, if I were to shout for help right now, wouldn’t you be the one in danger?” Kamiya was gradually growing bolder. “Heh heh heh. You think you can shout for help? You can’t do such a thing. Because you value your family’s lives. If someone comes out here, I’ll show no mercy and kill them.” “What in the world business do you have with me, you bastard?”

“Oh, right! I’d completely forgotten.” “It’s about Ranko.” “I won’t give up on that woman just because I failed once.” “I came to inform you that I won’t give up.” “You’ll take every defensive measure anyway.” “And the more frantic you become, the more it plays right into my hands.” “In other words, I want to snatch away the beloved you’re desperately protecting and make you suffer to your heart’s content.” “Hahahaha! Then be on your guard as best you can.”

When he finished speaking, he suddenly dropped to all fours and lumbered across the garden through the moonlight with a gait indistinguishable from that of an actual tiger. And with one swift leap, he cleared the wall and vanished into the night, his terrifying form dissolving into darkness. Left behind on the soft soil were starkly vivid footprints of a savage beast.

Kamiya, drenched in greasy sweat, watched that terrifying figure depart. Even though he knew it was futile by now, he called the police and reported the incident nonetheless. That night, without sleeping a wink, he waited for dawn and went to Egawa Ranko’s home.

Ranko was safe. Though bedridden, this was merely due to having developed a fever from last night's turmoil. Kamiya comforted her while gazing at the narrow garden beyond the veranda. As he looked, his eyes were forced open wider and wider, as if about to burst from their sockets.

He found something horrifying there. On the garden soil, large beastly footprints—identical in every detail to those left in his own garden—were clearly imprinted in about three spots.

The Attic’s Breathing

In the six-tatami room facing the courtyard, Ranko, her mother, and Kamiya exchanged fearful glances at the suspicious footprints. “Mr. Kamiya, please don’t leave—I can’t bear being alone with just my mother like this. It’s too terrifying.”

Due to last night’s turmoil, Ranko, pale as a patient, had shrunk back like a mouse entranced by a cat, her gaze darting restlessly about as she pleaded.

“Of course. I’ll take a break from work for a while and serve as your guard.” That was all well and good, but something felt off. Did that bastard come all the way here just to leave without doing anything? “Mother, was there anything unusual last night?”

When Kamiya asked, Ranko’s mother replied nervously in a low voice, as if sharing a secret.

“I didn’t notice anything at all.” “But ever since then, two detectives had been stationed right here in this room the entire time.” “And they remarked that there shouldn’t be any danger during the daytime, so they had only just departed a moment ago.” “No matter how bold that fellow may be, once he realized detectives were present, he couldn’t have dared to make 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 without doing anything?”

While saying this, Kamiya was staring fixedly at the garden when suddenly—as if he had discovered something—his complexion changed. “Mother, look at that over there.”

He adopted a frightened whisper，as though the Human Leopard were eavesdropping right nearby， “Look closely at those footprints.” “Though it’s part of a costume，the footprints are clearly made to show their front and back.” “Those footprints—aren’t all of them facing this way?” “There’s not a single one facing the other way，is there?”

“Oh, that’s right.” “What could be the matter?” The mother still hadn’t noticed the terrifying implication.

“In other words, he climbed over the fence, came all the way to the veranda, and hasn’t turned back. There are only incoming footprints—no outgoing ones.”

“Oh my!”

Ranko and her mother exchanged horrified glances. “I’m scared, Mr. Kamiya! Won’t you please tell the police quickly? He’s definitely hiding somewhere in this house!”

“There’s no need to panic.” “After all—we have neighbors close by—even if he’s hiding here now, he wouldn’t dare show his face in broad daylight.”

Kamiya said this as he stepped out onto the veranda and gingerly peered beneath the floorboards. No sooner had he peered in than he let out a low “Ah!” and recoiled.

“Is he there? Under the veranda?”

Ranko and her mother were already half-rising, their faces deathly pale as they prepared to flee.

It was there. In the dim ground deep beneath the veranda, a ferocious tiger lay collapsed. Kamiya hesitated for an instant but, swept up in sudden hatred, leapt down into the garden. Assuming a defensive stance while peering under the veranda, he shouted: “Endō, come out! No cowardly tricks!” “Come out!” “I won’t let you escape today!” Yet despite Kamiya’s fervor, the tiger neither responded nor stirred.

Was it sleeping? No—that couldn't be possible. This was strange. Ah—of course... Maybe...

Kamiya picked up a broken branch that had fallen there and, steeling himself, poked at the tiger beneath the veranda. It didn’t move. The texture felt strangely limp. “Oh, come on. “It’s nothing but an empty hide!” “He took off the tiger costume here and left.” “It’s okay. You don’t need to run away.”

He reassured the two in the room and dragged out the tiger hide from beneath the veranda.

“This is it.” “Look at this.”

When he grabbed it by the neck and dangled it down, it appeared exactly like the carcass of a large tiger.

“But Mr. Kamiya,” Ranko pressed, “what did he do after taking that off? He must still be hiding somewhere, right? Waiting for nightfall?” She fidgeted restlessly, unable to stay still. Perhaps he was crouching breathlessly in the veranda’s deepest recesses—some shadowed corner invisible from outside. Or maybe lurking motionless in the attic’s darkness, biding his time. No—what if he were inside that closet over there? If someone opened it now, his eerie eyes might glow phosphorescent behind the stacked futons, fixed in a baleful stare.

“Mr. Kamiya, I’m sorry to trouble you, but there’s a public telephone nearby. Would you be so kind as to inform the police about this?”

Even before her mother could say it, Kamiya had already been considering the same thing. He immediately rushed to a public telephone and informed the Metropolitan Police Department and the Daido Theater Office of the situation.

Before long, investigators from the investigative division arrived and conducted a rigorous search from beneath Ranko’s house’s floorboards up to the attic, but they could find no clues other than the tiger hide and footprints. It was confirmed that the Human Leopard was not hiding anywhere. Once the police had first withdrawn, people from the Daido 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 arrived Kumai—a young judoka-clerk tasked since the incident with escorting Ranko between home and theater. With his coming went the clamorous crowd; left behind were only four: Ranko with her kinfolk-figured-parental-one plus Kamiya plus himself.

When loneliness crept in, Ranko’s heart surged with an uncontrollable anxiety. It was nearly sunset. When the sun sank and the world shut itself in darkness, that monster would begin to prowl. He would surely come again tonight. No—it wasn’t that he would come; perhaps he was already somewhere in this house. The police had declared nobody was there, but their adversary was that monster. There was no corner too unexpected for him to lurk undetected.

In the midst of conversation, she would suddenly prick up her ears and turn deathly pale—such instances occurred frequently. But that wasn’t all. In the end, she even went out of her way to stand up and go over to the corner of the room, where she stood on tiptoe and listened intently.

“My goodness, what have you done? 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 trembling voice. “I can hear it.” “I can hear rough breathing.” “He’s definitely hiding up there in the ceiling!” “What should I do?” “I’m scared to stay in this house.” “Let’s go somewhere else.” “Let’s flee somewhere far away—so far he could never chase us down!”

“What are you talking about? It’s just your imagination. There’s no way you could hear breathing from the attic! There’s nothing there at all. There’s no way he’s here!” Kamiya scolded Ranko for her timidity, but upon reflection, leaving her in this house as it was seemed an undeniably dangerous proposition. He intended to protect Ranko without leaving her side for even a moment, and it wasn’t impossible to request police protection. However, their adversary wasn’t human—he was a shape-shifting beast who had fought against thousands at Daido Theater’s auditorium crowd scene earlier that year—no guard could match him.

“The best thing would be for you to vanish completely.” “You need to escape somewhere he can’t reach.” “But if it’s your relatives’ or friends’ houses, he’d notice right away… and yet I don’t know anyone who could hide you…”

As Kamiya stood perplexed, Kumai, the young judo practitioner, spoke up. "I just remembered something—an excellent plan. This should settle 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, considered the possibility that the Human Leopard might still be lurking somewhere.

“I think it’s safe, but if you prefer, let’s discuss this while walking along a bustling main street.” Kamiya too had been wary of potential dangers. “Yes, that’s wise. “Then let’s ask your mother to keep watch here while the three of us go out.”

Kumai also immediately agreed and stood up as if to urge them on.

Ranko’s Maidship

After leaving Ranko’s house and walking half a block down a narrow street, there was a bustling streetcar avenue. Kamiya, Kumai, and Ranko—the three of them—were walking side by side on the sidewalk of that bustling avenue.

“Ranko, how about becoming a country girl? No—rather, you’d use your signature makeup skills to transform into a fresh-off-the-farm country girl. You can do that, right?”

The young man Kumai brought up a truly outlandish idea.

“I could do that, but what would that accomplish?”

Through their daily comings and goings, Ranko had become friends with this stalwart young man. “There’s a perfectly suited opportunity.” “Actually, my mother has been asked by the person herself to find such a country girl.” “We just can’t find anyone suitable.” “It’s a slightly unusual position, you see.”

“What? Me work as a maid?”

“Yes, that’s right.” “Pretty clever idea, don’t you think?” “If you flee to acquaintances now, it’s certain that Endō will find you in the end.” “By outmaneuvering them there, you see, we make a bold move they’d never anticipate.” “You’ll disguise yourself as a country girl and go work as a maid in a completely unrelated household.” “Hey, Mr. Kamiya, what do you think of this idea?” Kamiya was so impressed he nearly slapped his knee. It was an utterly fantastical, wildly eccentric scheme—exactly what one would expect from a revue theater clerk—but precisely for that reason, it was beyond reproach in eluding the enemy’s detection.

“That’s brilliant! No matter what, they’d never suspect Ranko would take up work as a maid… But if she becomes one, they might send her running errands—that part worries me.” “No—rather, she won’t have to take a single step beyond the walls. The house in question is quite extraordinary—perfectly suited to our situation. It’s surrounded by high concrete walls with broken beer bottle shards embedded along the top like a mountain of needles—truly impregnable defenses. The master remains shut away in a single room year-round, never venturing outside. The role would be something like a companion and personal attendant to the master.”

“My, what a strange master.” “Is the master an elderly person?”

Ranko, too, was gradually getting drawn into this strange tale and growing enthusiastic. “However, the master is young.” “She’s probably about your age.” “No—there’s no need for concern.” “That master is a young lady.” “Moreover, she is disabled.” “Due to some facial disfigurement, she always wears a black hood and has never shown her true face to anyone—an extremely shy young lady.” “Because she leads such a life, she must want someone to talk to.” “Though I hear there’s an elderly butler or someone with her, an elderly person can’t be much of a conversation partner.”

“She’s rich, huh?” “That’s right. You may know this already, but Takana—the only daughter of a moneylender—had her parents taken from her two or three years ago, and now she’s a pitiful disabled woman all alone. She says she not only refuses marriage but even hates having her face seen by others, living such a solitary life. As I mentioned earlier, due to her father’s business dealings, the house was built with truly formidable precautions against burglars—perfect for Ranko’s hiding place. No matter how much of a Human Leopard he is, he won’t be able to tear down that massive iron gate or scale a wall like a mountain of needles.”

What a perfectly suited opportunity this was. This stalwart young man had conceived a clever idea quite unbefitting his usual demeanor. “How pitiful… I can’t help feeling I’d like to speak with that young lady.” “Hey, Mr. Kamiya—should I take the plunge and go work for the Takanas?” Ranko, her curiosity about the lonely heiress further fueling her enthusiasm, grew increasingly eager.

“I also think that’s a brilliant idea.” “It’s a bit outlandish, but we’d never evade his detection unless we go that far.” “Will you stay hidden there until they catch Endō?”

Kamiya, too, felt a certain allure in this bizarre plan.

“If we carry this out, here’s how it’ll work.” “Once that guy’s caught, you can just explain everything and resign.” “And though your mother might feel lonely, you could have a relative come stay or something.” “The Human Leopard isn’t after your mother anyway.”

Since Kumai kept urging them insistently, they ultimately resolved to carry out the plan after much deliberation.

“It would be best if I escorted her, but doing so risks alerting them.” “Mr. Kamiya, you shouldn’t go together either.” “If you’re worried, there are plenty of ways to discreetly keep watch.” “I’ll write the letter.” “We’ll present her as the daughter of a country acquaintance.” “You should disguise yourself and bring that letter.” “There’s no doubt they’ll hire you.” “I’ll have my mother mention it too.”

Kumai laid out the concrete methods. Thereupon, the three of them returned home and stealthily whispered the details of their plan into Ranko's mother's ear. Her mother had been reluctant at first, but having been persuaded there was no other way to escape the beast's attacks, she reluctantly gave her consent. She couldn't bring herself to refuse the counsel of young Kamiya, whom she trusted completely. When their plan was swiftly finalized, Kumai composed a lengthy letter of introduction and handed it to Ranko, who then left home in the clothes she was wearing, accompanied by Kamiya.

Along the way, they changed cars repeatedly, stopped at the apartment of Ranko’s close friend S—a revue girl—sent her friend rushing to a secondhand clothing store, and finished her full disguise. The popular actress Egawa Ranko had vanished from this world, and standing before the mirror stood a rustic yet utterly charming country girl wearing Annmeisen striped fabric with a merino sash, her hair styled in a Western updo wrapped around a comb, her slightly dusky cheeks flushed—a fresh arrival straight from the countryside around Joshu.

“Wonderful, wonderful! No one would ever recognize you!” “As expected, makeup is a piece of cake for you.” “My, how adorable!” “Mr. Kamiya, Ranko’s look here isn’t half bad either, wouldn’t you say?”

Kamiya and S exchanged lighthearted critiques of Ranko’s disguise.

“Alright, I’ll say goodbye here.” “You need to leave through this apartment’s back door alone and bargain with the taxi driver like a country bumpkin.” “Then switch cars several times, take the most roundabout route possible, and head to the Takana residence in Tsukiji.” “And don’t let that country accent give you away.”

Kamiya called Ranko to a corner of the room and whispered softly. “I feel so uneasy.” “Will I be okay?”

“It’s absolutely fine—I’ll follow in a separate car right to their doorstep.” “Once I confirm you’ve safely settled into service, I’ll leave.” “If anything urgent comes up, call my place immediately.” “I’ll come running straight away!”

Soon after leaving the apartment, this adorable country girl—just as Kamiya had instructed—repeatedly boarded and alighted from cars several times before arriving at the Takana residence in Tsukiji. It goes without saying that Young Kamiya, riding in a separate car, continued his peculiar surveillance.

The Masked Heiress

Egawa Ranko’s country girl abandoned the car about a block away from her place of service, the Takana residence, then hurriedly approached the gate of the same house with a small cloth-wrapped bundle tucked under her arm.

As Young Kumai had described, the house stood with security as formidable as a castle. The high concrete walls surrounding the estate were densely embedded with glinting shards of sharp glass, and the towering granite gateposts bore iron-plated doors carved with the family crest that remained firmly shut. Wondering where on earth she should enter, she looked around and noticed a small entrance in the concrete wall beside the gate, but even there, a copper-clad sliding door was shut so tightly that no matter how she tried, it wouldn’t budge.

After finally locating the small doorbell button and pressing it resolutely, she heard footsteps in the garden moments later, followed by a strange *clank* at the door. She thought they would open it, but they did not. A small peephole had been cut into the upper part of the door, and its cover opened. From a three-inch square hole, a single eye appeared, staring intently this way. “Um, my name is Yoshizaki Hana, and Mr. Kumai told me to bring this letter.”

Ranko spoke as earnestly as she could manage in her rustic accent, whereupon an elderly-looking hand slid out from the peephole, snatched the letter away, and after a moment, an unexpectedly gentle voice came from within.

“I understand perfectly.” “So you’re here to work.” “You must be Yoshizaki-san.” “Very well, very well. Now, please come in this way.” Then, the sliding door clattered open, and on the other side stood a white-haired, white-bearded old man grinning all the while. This must be the Takana family butler they had heard about. Following behind the old man, she walked along the gravel-paved path inside the gate and entered the entranceway; then, after turning several times through a dimly lit corridor, she was led to a secluded Western-style room. The spacious house was deathly quiet, so much so that one might have thought no one but the old man was present.

“I’ve grasped the general details from the letter—so your family are farmers.” “And I take it you attended girls’ school up to the third year before dropping out midway.” “Very well, very well.” “No objections here.” “But, as you’ve likely heard, the mistress here is a young lady—and a rather difficult patient.” “I’ll have you meet her now. If you win the young mistress’s favor, you can start working here today with a high salary.”

The old man carefully instructed Ranko’s Yoshizaki Hana as they walked along the long corridor. He wore a plain silk kimono with a matching black haori, kept both hands around his waist, and walked with a hunched back.

“Well, here we are.” “The young mistress lies upon her bed, but you must not attempt to look upon her face.” “Though she wears a black hood—so you couldn’t see anything even if you tried—you should still keep your eyes averted as much as possible.”

Having given the warning, the old man quietly opened the door.

“Young Mistress, I have arranged through Kumai—a country-bred maid has come for an audience. May I show her in?” When the old man inquired respectfully, from within the room came an unnaturally high-pitched, almost flute-like voice, “Please come in.” the young mistress answered. Oh, what a pitiable voice she has. There must be 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 roughly fifteen tatami mats in size, with a round table and two ornate chairs 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’m being rude to receive you like this, but do forgive me,” came the voice from behind the silk. “Old man, give our guest a chair.”

The young mistress’s flute-like voice came gently from behind the thin silk. Ranko, as she was urged, modestly sat on the chair facing the old man. “Old man, explain that matter thoroughly to her.” The young mistress would have the old man test this girl while she observed from nearby. “First of all now,” The old man began ceremoniously. “If you are to serve here, you must understand that during your service, you will not be permitted to step outside the house even once.” “We have a bath here, and for shopping, there are other maids you can ask.” “Well then, can you endure such conditions?”

“Yes, I don’t mind at all.” “I don’t want to go outside at all, so…”

“Oh, is that so? “So you dislike going outside, eh? “That’s most convenient.” “Now, as for your duties—as you know, you are to serve as this Young Mistress’s personal maid. But as I mentioned earlier, the Young Mistress is ill, so no matter what she says, you must not answer back.” “You must do everything exactly as she says.” “Understood?”

“I’m quite selfish, so I’ll probably make all sorts of unreasonable demands.” A flute-like voice added mockingly.

“Yes, I will do exactly as you say.” Ranko remained utterly demure. “Old man, I’ve taken a liking to this girl. What a docile child she is.” “And she has such a lovely face, doesn’t she?” The Young Mistress seemed thoroughly taken with Ranko. “Then we have an agreement.” “Yes, that’s fine.” “Hurry up and finalize it, please.” “And make sure to give her a generous salary.” “Miss Hana, it is as you have heard.” “As for your parents, I shall inform them in detail by letter in due course; you will stay here starting today.” “You have no objections, I trust?” “Ah, I see.” “Very well, very well.” “Now, regarding your salary—since the Young Mistress has spoken, we shall break with previous precedent and set it at one hundred yen per month.” “You have no objections, I trust?”

Ranko had no reason to be dissatisfied with her salary or anything else. A hundred yen was a considerable salary. Even considering this amount alone, she thought that taking care of the spoiled Young Mistress must surely be quite arduous, but all other conditions were entirely satisfactory. The first condition—the prohibition on going out—was more convenient than anything for her as she avoided prying eyes. No matter how capricious one might call her employer, the Young Mistress was a girl of the same age as herself. Her voice resembled a flute’s tone, yet she didn’t seem spiteful by nature. Rather, she appeared like a childishly innocent though willful person. Ranko concluded that under these circumstances, she could likely continue her service for now.

“Then that is settled.” “We’ve decided… Your room will be the small Western-style chamber next door.” “It’s too fine a room for a servant, but we wish you to remain near the Young Mistress at all times.” “Now then—take that luggage and place it in the adjoining room.” Following the old man’s instructions, Ranko set her cloth-wrapped bundle on the desk in the small room, straightened her appearance briefly before the vanity mirror there, and returned to the original bedroom.

“Young Mistress, I shall take my leave now, but to begin with, do you have any orders for this girl?” When the old man stood up and asked, the Young Mistress heaved herself up on the bed, parted the thin silk of the canopy, and finally revealed her nightgown-clad form. Her appearance was truly bizarre to behold. Lying on a Western-style bed, her nightwear consisted of a flamboyant yuzen-dyed underkimono with long Japanese-style sleeves, complete with a glittering ornamental sash. From head to chin, she wore a black silk hood shaped like a bridal headdress.

“I’d like to take a bath, but could you have that child go ahead and prepare it for me?” “Yes, understood… Miss Hana, come with me then; I’ll show you the bathhouse.” “The bathwater has already been heated, so you just need to check the temperature and lay out the towels properly.” While saying such things, the old man led her down the corridor and guided her to the splendid bathhouse.

The bathtub and washing area were entirely tiled, and perhaps due to poor natural lighting—even though it was daytime—beautiful decorative lights sparkled brilliantly.

After the old man left, Ranko tucked up her hem, stepped down onto the tiles, removed the bathtub lid to check the water temperature, drew water into buckets, and briskly prepared for the bath. After a short while, the door to the adjoining changing room opened quietly, and the young mistress entered still wearing her black mask. “The temperature is just right.”

Wiping her hands, Ranko entered the changing room and bowed slightly at the waist before the young mistress.

“Yes,” “Now then, you take off your kimono too, okay? Then you’ll get in the bath with me.” “And then you’ll wash my body for me, okay?” Indeed, she was an eccentric young mistress. Taking a bath together with a maid—she certainly had some peculiar preferences. Even so, what did she intend to do with that masked hood? Is she going to get into the bath like that? Ranko, somewhat flustered, stood frozen in silence when—the spoiled young mistress’s shrill voice immediately rang out.

“Take off your kimono.” “What are you standing there for?” “Hurry up.” Ah, so this was what the hundred-yen monthly salary meant. However unreasonable the demands, I couldn’t refuse—that was the rule here. Ranko reluctantly began untying her obi. Anxious that her skin looked too pale for a country girl, she kept loosening the thin cords one by one. “Won’t you remove your kimono too, Young Mistress?”

Since the other party remained standing motionless for so long, when she tentatively made that suggestion, the Young Mistress replied in a voice that still sounded angry, “Just take it off already.” “And go ahead and get into the bath first.”

the Young Mistress commanded. Ah, this Young Mistress must be ashamed of her disfigured body. But if that were true, why would she need to bathe together with a maid? Ranko did as instructed and finally stood completely naked. Just as she hurried toward the bath chamber, the Young Mistress's voice rang out again. "My, what a lovely body you have." "You only just came from the countryside?" "That's a lie." "The truth is—you were performing in revues at the Daitō Theater, weren't you?"

Ranko froze as if struck by lightning. If I had dismissed her as some sheltered young mistress—my goodness—how keenly perceptive this person was.

“Egawa Ranko.” “Right? That’s correct.” “I know perfectly well.” Strangely enough, the Young Mistress’s tone of voice had altered drastically. The voice—once shrill as a flute—had unwittingly transformed into a hoarse, guttural growl.

“I’m sorry… There are circumstances behind this.” “It wasn’t done with any ill intent.” Ranko sat naked on the cork-lined floor of the changing room and apologized meekly. There had been no other choice. “No need to apologize.” “What’s this ‘circumstance,’ eh?” “Could it be… to escape the notice of that dreadful man called Endō?” Ranko found herself speechless at this sudden ambush.

“Hahaha! Surprised, Ranko? You poor thing—you’ve gone completely pale.” “There’s nothing strange about it at all.” “I know you far too well—after all.” It was unmistakably a man’s voice. The Young Mistress was speaking in a deep man’s voice. Ranko seemed to have her breath caught and could no longer even move. Am I dreaming? Have I lost my mind? Could such a bizarre thing really be possible? Or perhaps—could it be, could it be... The moment Ranko realized this in a flash, she was on the verge of tears and mustered a voice in desperate frenzy.

“Who… who *are* *you*?” “You—who *are* *you*?”

“No one.” “It’s the man you’ve been wanting to meet.”

The hood was flung off. And what emerged from beneath was dusky black skin, a gaunt frame, blazing blue eyes, crimson lips, fang-like white teeth—Endō! The Human Leopard! Ranko took one look at that and, letting out some indescribable scream, tried to flee toward the door. “Hahaha! Ranko, you can’t, you can’t! I’ve already locked it tight.” “Look, the key is right here.” “Do you want it?” “If you want it, I might just give it to you.” “There’s just a small condition, though.”

The Human Leopard, having revealed his true form, licked his crimson lips with a slobbering tongue and grinned slyly with relish. Ranko curled up her limbs as if there was nowhere to hide and huddled in the corner of the room. And, like a child, pouting with terrified eyes, she watched Endō’s every move.

The Human Leopard stared fixedly at Ranko. For a long time, he stared without moving a muscle. But before long, his upper body leaned forward toward Ranko, and his hands gradually bent. And finally, he transformed into the eerie stance of a leopard about to pounce on its prey.

Akechi Kogorō Ranko curled her body into a ball like a bound monkey, huddled small in the corner of the changing room, staring unblinkingly at the monster’s terrifying visage inching closer—as though tethered by an invisible thread to its gaze. “Hahaha!”

The monster bared its long fangs, quivered its slimy crimson lips, and roared with convulsive laughter. “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, I won’t let go. But you really put me through hell, I tell ya.” Endō, clad in a long-sleeved kimono, made a gesture of clawing at the air with both hands and lumbered over Ranko in the corner like a gigantic beast.

“Aah…! Help…!” Ranko contorted her entire face into a scream and let out a deathly desperate shriek.

“Hahahaha!” The more Ranko cowered, the more intensely the beast burned with cruel delight, his rancid laughter booming through the air. Those gaunt fingers tipped with talons came within an inch of her shoulder. Yet she hadn’t surrendered her will to fight.

“Aah…!” she screamed, as though about to be killed, slipped nimbly beneath her opponent’s hands, and rolled like a ball into the white-tiled bathroom. “Hahahaha! You’re finally a cornered rat.” “Do you realize?” “There are no windows in this bathroom.” “In other words, you’ve fallen right into my trap—that’s what this means.”

And then, the beast-like black naked body crawled on all fours and slowly, laboriously descended the tiled stairs.

Ranko was submerged up to her neck in the bathtub before she knew it. The Human Leopard, like a cat toying with a mouse, did not launch a sudden attack. Crouched on the tiled washing area, he kept his head lowered, his blazing blue eyes fixed gleefully—endlessly—on the prey submerged in the water. Outside the same mansion, Ranko’s lover Kamiya Yoshio was pacing round and round the concrete wall embedded with fragments of glass.

He saw Ranko off to her maid service in a separate automobile and, even after confirming she had entered the mansion grounds, felt somehow uneasy. For over thirty minutes, he lingered in front of the mansion, circled around to the back, searched for any spot where he might catch a glimpse inside, and found himself unable to leave. But resigning himself that there was no use in continuing this any longer, he hailed a passing automobile. Just as he was getting into the automobile, the tragedy in the bathhouse had begun inside the mansion grounds; but even within the vast, sealed bath chamber, no matter how much Ranko screamed, her voice could not reach beyond the walls. Unaware of this, Kamiya, believing he had completely hidden his lover from the Human Leopard’s eyes, set off for home with a sense of relief—an inevitable outcome.

But whether it was some sixth sense or not，inside the moving automobile，Kamiya’s mind remained strangely unsettled. Was this truly acceptable? No matter how he reasoned，his adversary remained that demonic Human Leopard. Given its status as a sharp-sensed beast，it wouldn’t take long before it uncovered Ranko’s hideout. For Ranko’s protection，capturing the Human Leopard itself at once seemed wiser than concealing her. Once confined to prison or executed，relief would spread beyond Ranko to all society. With a zoo-escaped beast lumbering through streets，Tokyo’s citizens couldn’t lay their heads peacefully.

On that matter, Kamiya had been considering something for several days prior. If the police force could not be relied upon, there was no other means. The only remaining hope was to enlist the aid of a capable private detective. When it came to private detectives, the name that immediately came to mind was Akechi Kogorō. He had heard numerous accounts of how he had effortlessly solved difficult cases that the police had bungled. Especially for a bizarre criminal like the Human Leopard, would Akechi not be the most suitable?

“Ah, you—we’re changing our destination slightly. It’s Azabu Ryūdo-chō. In Ryūdo-chō—you know—to the house of a man named Akechi Kogorō.”

“Understood.” “He’s a private detective, right?”

The driver answered energetically. "Oh, you know him well," Kamiya remarked. "Because he's famous," replied the driver. "I can't wait for Mr. Akechi to make his entrance soon."

“Where exactly do you mean he’ll show up?” “You know what I’m talking about, right? “That whole Great Metropolitan Theater business. “The beast who’s after Ranko. “I’ve been hoping Mr. Akechi would step in soon and finish off that freak—the one who’s like some human-leopard monstrosity. “I’m her biggest fan, you see—Egawa Ranko’s.” “Oh, is that so? “I expect that’s exactly what’s about to happen.”

Even a stranger’s driver had noticed that. Why hadn’t I gone to see Detective Akechi sooner? Kamiya felt all the more encouraged.

After the "Vampire" incident, Akechi Kogorō had vacated his bachelor apartment at Kaika Apartments and established a new marital home in Azabu Ryūdo-chō with Ms. Fumiyo, his former assistant—a beautiful woman. This household also served as his detective agency. Since both husband and wife shared a passion for detective work and adventure, there was no need whatsoever to separate their domestic life from professional affairs.

On the low granite gatepost hung a small brass sign that read "Akechi Detective Agency." Passing through there and making a single turn along the stone-paved path bordered by jujube hedges stood a compact white Western-style house. When the entrance bell was pressed, the door immediately opened, and a charming boy in a high-collared uniform with apple-like cheeks appeared. This was Kobayashi, the boy assistant who had performed work that even adults couldn’t match during the “Vampire” incident.

Fortunately, Akechi was at home. Kamiya was graciously shown into the parlor and was about to meet the famous detective for the first time when, just as he entered the parlor, another automobile came to a stop in front of the gate. And there inside the automobile, with gleaming eyes—was it not the white-haired, white-bearded eerie old man who claimed to be the Takana family butler? Kamiya hadn’t noticed at all, but the other party hadn’t missed the suspicious-looking youth loitering at the gate. Indeed, the old man might have known even more than that. He had tailed Kamiya. And he had confirmed that he had entered the Akechi Detective Agency.

The old man stopped the car, spent a short while deep in thought, then took out a notebook from his pocket, tore out a sheet of paper, wrote something on it with a pencil, and handed it to the driver while— “Take this letter and stealthily toss it into the gap in the front door of this house. Is that clear? Make absolutely sure no one sees you,” commanded the Takana family butler.

This driver, apparently no ordinary fellow, did not question the strange order; he silently got out of the car and disappeared into the gate on tiptoe.

The Renowned Detective’s Apprehension

In the parlor of the residence, before Akechi Kogorō, who was leaning back in an armchair, young Kamiya was detailing every event since his bizarre encounter with Endō, the Human Leopard.

Akechi Kogorō, out of his lifelong habit since youth, thrust the five fingers of his right hand like a comb into his tangled, overgrown hair while occasionally nodding along and listening with rapt attention. It was quite a lengthy tale, and during that time, the beautiful Mrs. Akechi Fumiyo herself brought in drinks and entered the room three times. “So while Ranko is safe for now, we mustn’t let our guard down.” “And since that bastard holds a deep grudge against me, I feel uneasy about my own safety too.” “That’s why I came to ask you, Mr. Akechi—to investigate Endō’s hideout separately from the police, but…”

As Kamiya concluded his words, Akechi assumed a worried expression,

“That judo practitioner named Kumai—the one who arranged for Ranko to stay at the Takana residence—do you know his address?” Akechi Kogorō asked an odd question.

“I know. He’s renting a house in Asakusa Senzoku-chō with his mother.” “Doesn’t the phone work?” “I believe they can be reached through a nearby public telephone relay. You might find out if you inquire at the Great Metropolitan Theater office… But do you have some business with Kumai?” Young Kamiya had heard that the renowned detective had his eccentricities, but he found this to be a bit too outlandish. “No, I’ll explain the details later.” “This is extremely urgent.” “I hate to impose, but could you use that phone to contact the Great Metropolitan Theater?”

Akechi pointed at the desk telephone and urged. “A call to summon Kumai?”

“Yes, exactly… I can’t help suspecting that Kumai and his parent may have already relocated somewhere. Though it would be fortunate if they’re still there…” What was this detective thinking? Kamiya had only parted ways with Kumai earlier that very afternoon. At the time, there had been no mention whatsoever of moving. Moreover, for Detective Akechi—who should have had no prior acquaintance with Kumai—to predict such a relocation… It felt like being bewitched by a fox.

Though Kamiya could not suppress his doubts, since Akechi’s sharp eyes were persistently urging him on, he found himself unable to question further and—as instructed—picked up the receiver to inquire with the Great Metropolitan Theater about the matter.

“Did you get through?” “Then call there yourself and try to summon either Kumai or his mother.” “Do you have business with him?” “Yes, I have business with him.” Akechi kept a straight face. Reluctantly, Kamiya connected the call to Yanagiya Sake Shop he had just heard about and asked them to send someone running to Kumai’s house.

“Hello? Is this Mr. Kumai?” “That would be Mr. Kumai who practices judo, correct?” “He moved away suddenly this afternoon.” “He moved?” “Is that true?” “I wouldn’t lie.” “It was terribly sudden.” “He apparently sold off most things—chests and kitchenware—to secondhand dealers.” “So he returned to his hometown?” “Where was his hometown?”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know that.”

With that, the call ended.

Young Kamiya was utterly flabbergasted. He had heard that Akechi was a once-in-a-generation renowned detective. But he’s no fortune-teller—how on earth could a complete stranger have predicted he would move today? “Are you saying he returned to his hometown?” “Yes, that’s correct.” “But how did Mr. Akechi figure that out?” “I’ll explain the details later. “I listened to your account and had grown concerned about something. “That has now partially come true. “Given this, there’s nothing left but to investigate the scene. “Let’s go together. “We can discuss everything in the car on the way.”

Akechi appeared terribly irritated and made no attempt to respond to Kamiya's questioning look. He called for Kobayashi and ordered him to summon an automobile.

“Actually, earlier—during our conversation—I stepped out to the restroom.” “At that time, when I happened to pass by the entrance, I found this—it must have been thrown in by someone after you arrived.”

Akechi said this and showed what appeared to be a torn page from a notebook. On it, in hasty pencil strokes, was written the terrifying message as follows. "Mr. Akechi, you must absolutely not involve yourself in the case that Kamiya Yoshio has requested. Are you not currently enjoying a beautiful wife and a new household? Abandon your meddling. If you disregard this warning and plunge into the turmoil of this case, you will be struck by an irreparable misfortune."

“Is this Endō’s doing?” Kamiya looked at Akechi’s face in surprise.

“Of course.” “You were followed by a member of Endō’s gang.” “When I noticed that fellow who was tailing you had deigned to enter my house, he promptly scribbled down these threats.”

“But what exactly does this ‘great misfortune’ mean?”

Kamiya’s tone suggested he regretted having requested this case.

“Ha ha ha ha, there’s no need for concern. I have a fair idea of its meaning. But if you fear such things, you can’t do detective work. I’ve gotten so used to threatening letters that I’m practically numb to them by now.”

Akechi declared nonchalantly. While they were doing so, there came word that the automobile had arrived, so the two hurriedly left the room. “Kobayashi, you’re coming too. There’s a chance we might run into a somewhat formidable enemy.” Akechi tapped the beautiful boy—whom he had escorted to the entrance—on the shoulder as he said this.

“Yes, sir. I’ll come with you.”

Young Kobayashi answered in a clear tone and, looking quite delighted, ran out to open the car door.

“Head to Tsukiji.” As the three of them sat side by side on the cushions, Akechi announced their destination. The car immediately started off. “Tsukiji, you say…”

Kamiya, hurried along, still did not know their destination.

“Of course it’s the Takana residence. Do you understand? You came to my house just now—where did you come from? Wasn’t it from in front of the Takana residence in Tsukiji? If there was a man following you…it would be strange for him to spot you midway after passing by and start tailing you…so we must conclude he began following you from the Takana residence. Even if you thought you went unnoticed, they might have been closely monitoring your movements.”

“Someone from the Takana residence… following me?”

Kamiya, because Akechi’s reasoning was too far-fetched, fell into a strange confusion and posed a foolish question that would later make him cringe with shame. “That’s right. Ah, you’ve placed your complete trust in that man Kumai, haven’t you?” “That’s understandable.” “That man was acting as Ms. Ranko’s guard, after all.” “However, the devil’s temptation extends to any place.” “In fact, there’s even an example of the electric panel operator at the Daitō Theater being bribed by Endō.” “We can’t conclude that Kumai wasn’t targeted by the same method after all.” “What’s most suspicious is his sudden move.” “Moreover, since it was that very afternoon he arranged the position for Ms. Ranko.” “First of all, isn’t it strange that a young judo practitioner would go out of his way to arrange a maid’s position?” “Didn’t you even consider doubting that?”

Inside the speeding automobile, Akechi explained in detail.

If he heard that far, no matter how mired in confusion he was, he could not help but grasp the meaning of Akechi’s concern. Kamiya Yoshio started and involuntarily glared at Akechi’s profile. “So… you’re saying Endō has a hand in that Takana residence…”

“That’s right.” “We won’t know for certain until we investigate, but between the threatening letter and Mr. Kumai’s abrupt relocation, I can’t help sensing a pattern.” “Mr. Kumai mentioned that the young lady of the Takana household is disabled and always wears a facial mask, correct?” “When I heard that detail, it struck me.” “This may be mere conjecture on my part.” “I sincerely hope my suspicions prove unfounded.” “Yet such stratagems are precisely what cunning criminals employ.” “I’ve encountered identical methods in previous cases.”

“Oh… You mean that masked young lady could be…” “Yes—as long as it isn’t Endō’s disguise.”

“Damn it! That’s it. Of course that’s it! Oh, what a fool I was! After all that effort… to drop Ranko into that beast’s trap…” Kamiya had turned deathly pale and stamped his feet on the car floor. “Hey, driver! I’ll pay any extra fare—can’t you go faster? This is life or death. Hurry, go faster!”

He screamed like a madman. “But no matter how much we hurry, we may already be too late.”

Akechi said with a deeply worried expression.

“Why is that? Only a little over two hours have passed since Ranko went to the Takana residence…” “Under normal circumstances there’d be no cause for concern, but someone’s 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 Takana residence. That’s what terrifies him. Then that guy might outpace us—return to the Takana residence and make preparations so even an assault would pose no problem.”

“What do you mean by ‘preparations’?”

“Well, it’s precisely those preparations that I fear to the extreme. Of course, it’s something we can’t know unless we go there. I can only hope it’s a groundless fear, but if things take a turn for the worse—”

“Ranko…” “Yes.” “Because our opponent isn’t human.” “As past cases prove—he’s no different from a ravenous beast.”

Akechi, having muttered that, showed an indescribable look of unease and fell completely silent.

The Bizarre Gift

Under Kamiya Yoshio’s direction since he knew the way, when the car stopped at a suitable location, the three hurriedly got out, and Akechi handed Kobayashi a business card he had prepared earlier in the car. “You wait outside. “You have a wristwatch, don’t you?” “You have exactly ten minutes. If we don’t come out of the Takana residence within that time, run to the nearest police box.” “And hand over this business card and have them call the main police station.” “And ask them to immediately make arrangements to rescue us.” “Do you understand?”

“Yes, understood.” “I don’t think such a thing is likely to happen.” “It’s just a precaution for emergencies.”

When Akechi and Kamiya approached the gate of the Takana residence, they found the side door next to the main entrance 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 the lattice door, it opened with a loud clatter, yielding without resistance.

“Hello? Is anyone home?” “Is no one here?”

No matter how many times they shouted, no one came out.

“You stay here until I call for you,” Akechi instructed. “I’ve prepared for situations like this, so I’ll manage—but I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He drew a small pistol from his pocket and showed it to Kamiya. When Kamiya nodded his understanding, the detective removed his shoes and stepped alone into the dimly lit house. Barely five minutes later, he reappeared wearing an expression of bitter disappointment.

“My deduction was correct after all.” “There’s no one here.” “I checked from the bathhouse to the shed—there were signs someone had been here, but it’s completely deserted.” “This place is actually a vacant house.” “Endō must have rented it and only furnished the necessary rooms.” “Only the reception room and what appears to be a Western-style bedroom in the back have furniture—the other rooms are utterly empty.” “The only odd thing is that someone seems to have bathed just moments ago—the bathwater’s still warm.”

Akechi explained the details.

“Couldn’t they be hiding somewhere?” “And was Endō truly the master here?”

Kamiya asked with reluctant persistence.

“That is beyond doubt,” Akechi declared. “Look here. This is the thief’s note left on the small table in that bedroom.” On a scrap from a notebook lay a brusque scribble: “Akechi-kun, just one step too late. My condolences.” The words “My condolences” trailed off in jagged strokes. “So he knew you would come here,” Kamiya said, his voice trembling.

Kamiya said in surprise. “That’s right. He’s an opponent who leaves nothing to be desired. But we’ve done something truly regrettable. Given how cunning he is, no matter how much we search, there should be no clues left hinting at his escape route. We have no choice but to withdraw for now.” “But what could have happened to Ranko? There’s no way she would’ve been taken without a sound.”

“That’s exactly it,” he said. “What I’ve been worried about all along. But now that things have come to this, we have no choice but to rely on organized police power rather than my individual capabilities. Let’s go visit the Metropolitan Police Headquarters immediately in that car. We’ll meet with Inspector Tsunekawa—he’s someone we can trust.” They exited through Takana’s gate, sped off in the waiting automobile, and rushed toward the Metropolitan Police Headquarters.

As a result, the police sprang into action—thoroughly combing the Tsukiji crime scene, making inquiries to Kumai’s hometown, and diligently extending their efforts to any other remotely related avenues—conducting an exhaustive investigation. Yet they failed to grasp even a single clue. Needless to say, they investigated the landlord of the house Endō had rented. However, beyond the fact that an elderly man named Takana—white-haired and white-bearded—had properly followed formal procedures and paid a substantial security deposit to rent the place, they could uncover nothing else.

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

That morning, a strange gift was delivered to Kamiya Yoshio’s residence. The sender was unknown. At the delivery service that transported it, an automobile had stopped in the pale light of dawn, presented Kamiya Yoshio’s address, and requested that this be delivered immediately—or so it was said. The gift was a large wooden box, roughly the size of two Chinese-style trunks stacked vertically. On its lid was affixed an oversized ceremonial paper ornament resembling those displayed at *noshi* shops, while its midsection was bound with thick ceremonial cords—the kind used in *mizuhiki* shop advertisements—wrapped tightly around it like a log.

“Isn’t it a large vase or something?” Because the delivery person had said such a thing and left, he let his guard down—though he had no clue who sent it—and thinking it might be a gift from someone at his company, he had his student assistant help him open it, but…

When he opened it, the first thing that struck his eyes was the profusion of flowers spread across the entire surface of the box. When he saw it, Kamiya was crushed by a premonition, his heart beginning to pound like a rapidly tolling bell—yet he couldn't look away. Gently pushing aside the flowers—ah, indeed, indeed... The famous detective's prophecy had been cruelly accurate—there lay the completely nude corpse of Egawa Ranko, as beautiful as a wax doll.

Within that waxen body, there was only one part that lacked beauty. What had killed Ranko was this unbeautiful portion. At her throat gaped a livid wound like a yawning mouth. It appeared as though some wild beast’s razor-sharp fangs had torn through flesh. Suddenly noticing it, he found a letter resting upon the corpse’s chest. In frenzied desperation, Kamiya tore open the envelope—inside lay a vile message penned in handwriting identical to that which had been flung into Akechi’s home the night before.

“Kamiya, you’ve acted with reckless thoughtlessness. If you hadn’t gone running to Detective Akechi, none of this would’ve happened. And if Akechi had just heeded last night’s warning and backed off, Ranko would still be alive. You’ve made an irreparable blunder. Give my regards to Akechi. I’ll repay you both in full soon enough.” “From your so-called ‘Human Leopard’”

The Second Coffin

The Coffin Delivery Incident caused an extraordinary uproar, since the victim was Egawa Ranko, the star of the capital’s entertainment world, and the murderer was known to be the Human Leopard—the monstrous being who had terrorized the populace.

That day’s evening edition lavishly expended every passionate adjective and nearly filled all pages of the society section with this coverage. Photographs of the victim Ranko and Akechi Kogorō were displayed boldly, as if for a sideshow. The commotion at Kamiya’s house—the epicenter of the incident—goes without saying.

The people coming and going to the Kamiya household rushed about in confusion. Ranko’s relatives rushed over; staff from the Daitō Theater hurried to the scene; police officers stomped in. Kamiya Yoshio underwent questioning by the police officers and was given a severe talking-to by his father. His mother cried over him. He had finally become like a sick man, shutting himself away in a single room. But as the commotion subsided, afternoon turned to evening, and his mood began to settle—the anguish of losing his lover and his fury toward his archenemy—the Human Leopard—clawed at his chest anew. No matter what, he couldn’t just sit there and cry. He had to track down Endō and his father—search every blade of grass if he must—and make sure he settled this grudge. He could no longer sit still. The only person he could consult was Akechi Kogorō. Moreover, he had to report the events since that morning to Akechi.

Kamiya hurriedly prepared to go out and, without informing his family, slipped out of his house.

As he hurried to Akechi’s office in a taxi, passing through bustling main streets, he encountered the ringing bells of evening paper sellers and posters proclaiming “The Egawa Ranko Murder Case” at every corner. But Kamiya lacked the courage to stop the car and buy a paper. He averted his face and hurried past the poster emblazoned with garish red-ink circles.

Akechi ushered him into the reception room as though he’d been waiting impatiently. On the table lay several evening newspapers spread open. There, photographs of Ranko from her lifetime smiled back in various poses. “I must apologize to you,” Akechi began. “This happened because I underestimated him. Because I ignored the warning letter and raided that house in Tsukiji. I have no excuse.”

Akechi candidly apologized. “No, I don’t think it was your mistake, Mr. Akechi.” “In that situation, there was no other choice but to act as you did.” “It was precisely because you are Mr. Akechi that you were able to see through their scheme.” “Ranko was destined to end up like this eventually.” “If it weren’t for your assistance, Mr. Akechi, her death might have been delayed somewhat.” “However, that would only prolong her suffering, and there was no saving her anyway.” “More than that, I want you to take down Ranko’s enemy.” “I want you to use your power to locate the hideout of Endō and his father.”

The young Kamiya did not resent Akechi in the least. If anything, he felt gratitude; there was not the slightest cause for resentment.

“That goes without saying.” “I’ve been working on that in various ways since this morning.” “Not only did you call me—and an acquaintance at the Metropolitan Police informed me of the details—but moreover, the murderer himself has once again challenged me. For my own self-defense, I cannot remain idle.”

“Huh? So did that guy send another challenge letter?” “Yes.” “Take a look at this.”

Akechi took out a single envelope from his pocket and spread out the letter paper inside to show it. Mr. Akechi, I can almost see your astonished face. Do you understand my power now? I will definitely carry out what I promised. Beware. I did promise to show you my gratitude, didn’t I? Do you know what kind of gratitude this is? I’d love to see the great detective’s tear-streaked face.

“Around noon, he sneaked up to the entrance and tossed it in,” “He’s already spread his net around my place.” “Even this conversation we’re having—he might be listening from some corner.” “Hahahaha.”

Akechi laughed nonchalantly. “But what does this ‘gratitude’ even mean?” “If that’s the case, I’m afraid I’ve caused you a great deal of trouble.” After reading the eerie threatening letter, Kamiya could no longer stay calm. “I can’t say I don’t have some idea, but really, there’s no need to worry at all.” “For my part, I have countermeasures prepared for every level of the enemy’s cunning.” “To the fool who uses ridiculous child’s play magic tricks, all I can do is counter with tricks that outdo even those.”

Akechi’s demeanor even looked somewhat cheerful. Kamiya could not help but be startled by the nerves of a professional detective.

"But shouldn't he be resenting me instead? Both burning down their lair and gunning down their precious leopard—it's all my fault. Moreover, wasn't it me who asked you to take on the case this time too, Mr. Akechi? Leaving me alone and plotting revenge against you..." "Of course he resents you too, but I'm the primary obstacle to their misdeeds. They must be planning to eliminate the biggest nuisance first. Besides, I have something at my place that he simply can't ignore."

Akechi said this and exchanged glances with Mrs. Fumiyo, who had just brought tea to them there. She looked like them. She looked like them. Mrs. Fumiyo had the exact same features as Hiroko and Ranko.

Ah—had the Human Leopard already fixed his gaze upon this beautiful Mrs. Akechi as his next prey? Was he now proclaiming his intent to abduct none other than the great detective’s own young wife?

“Then, that guy…”

Kamiya stared rudely at Mrs. Fumiyo’s face and, overwhelmed by the situation—or perhaps unable to articulate it—faltered.

“That’s right.” “It may seem a bit far-fetched, but beasts don’t possess human common sense, so they act in an utterly simple manner, driven purely by emotion.” “There’s no other way to interpret the wording of this challenge letter, can there?”

When he thought about it, it was exactly as Akechi had said. What a clever idea this was—satisfying the beast’s carnal desires would simultaneously serve as revenge against the great detective. That’s exactly the kind of thing he’d think of.

“If that’s the case… Ah, I’ve somehow become frightened.” “Are you all right?” “Through my past experiences, I am well aware of his power.” “He isn’t human at all.” “He is a demon.” “He possesses the cunning and power of a demon.”

He tried to say, “How can you keep such a calm face…,” but became aware of his rudeness and swallowed his words. “If that’s the kind of opponent he is, then this should be quite entertaining.” “Akechi had been complaining lately that there were no major cases, you see.” Mrs. Fumiyo said this and flashed a charming smile with her adorable snaggletooth.

Well, my, what a bold wife she was, defying all expectations. Kamiya was left dumbfounded. He had no idea how gallantly Mrs. Fumiyo had worked as Akechi’s female detective assistant during the “Vampire” case. “Above all else, we must uncover that bastard’s hiding place.” “Do you have some plan in mind, Mr. Akechi?” When Kamiya asked, the detective answered calmly.

“There’s no need to track it down.” “The other side will come.” “I’m waiting for it.”

“When?” “Probably tonight.” “He might already be prowling around here.” “Do you hear that?” “My dog is barking violently, isn’t he?” Before they knew it, night had fallen, plunging the world beyond the window into utter blackness. The entire neighborhood was a district of mansions, where nothing broke the hushed desolation save faint piano notes drifting from some unseen source. Then came deafening barks—a dog’s cries drawing rapidly nearer—and something bulleted into the parlor.

“Oh, S! What’s wrong with you?”

Mrs. Fumiyo’s hands, which had caught her sturdy beloved dog, were drenched in a terrifying coat of blood. No sooner had S let out an abnormal cry in his mistress’s arms than he went completely limp. The dripping blood quickly dyed the rug a deep red.

“What on earth happened? And this wound?”

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

It was a grotesque wound. The back was covered in what looked like scattered patches of torn flesh, and a single gash on the neck appeared to be the fatal wound. It was definitely not a bite. It was a wound inflicted by something like sharp claws. But it was not human. Human claws shouldn’t be this sharp.

“It’s him! S was attacked by him. Fumiyo, be careful!” As Akechi smoothly stood up, he quickly gripped the small pistol from his pocket. And, as if by prior agreement, Mrs. Fumiyo’s gentle right hand—though where she had hidden it—held an identical pistol. “You hide in the living room. Lock the door and don’t open it no matter what!” Having barked these orders, Akechi rushed outside. Mrs. Fumiyo ran up to the second-floor living room as instructed. Then—appearing from nowhere—the boy Kobayashi, swift as a squirrel, was seen chasing after Akechi, his black figure darting down the hallway.

Kamiya couldn’t stay still either. When he timidly stepped out to the entrance, it appeared that Akechi and the boy Kobayashi had circled around from the brushwood gate in the shrubbery toward the backyard. Although the area outside the gate was desolate, it was a thoroughfare where taxis occasionally passed. Thinking there was no way the enemy would be hiding near the gate, he deliberately chose that safe direction and plodded along.

But after walking five or six steps along the stone-paved path, he became too terrified to go on. The jujube hedges on both sides created pitch-black shadows, and he sensed something ominous lurking there. Even as he tried not to look, a strange, sinister aura irresistibly drew his eyes toward it. In the darkest shadow of the shrubbery—there, in the darkness about three feet above the ground—ah, those two phosphorescent eyes he could never forget were staring fixedly in this direction.

The moment Kamiya saw it, he let out an indescribable scream—one that would later fill him with shame—and bolted back toward the entrance. Yet as he fled, glancing over his shoulder, he sensed that the monster too had been startled: a black shadow rustled through the shrubbery and vanished toward the gate like a sinister gust of wind.

“Mr. Kamiya, what’s wrong?”

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

“Was he there?”

Kamiya pointed outside the gate and informed them in a raspy voice, “That way! That way!”

Hearing this, the two brave men dashed out of the gate like arrows. But after a while, they returned without incident,

“There’s nothing there.” “Could it be a misunderstanding?”

he gazed suspiciously at Kamiya’s pale face.

“It’s not a mistake. It was definitely him. He might still be hiding in an alley around here or something. Shouldn’t we call the police right away?” “No need for that. Even if the police come, he’s not someone who’ll get caught. You should know that well from all our past experiences. If the police come rushing here, it’ll only mess things up. Just wait and see—I have a bit of a plan.”

Akechi did not attempt to search any further and, after making a nonchalant remark, briskly went back inside the house. Kamiya reluctantly followed behind him, but just as he was about to step up into the entranceway, there came the clattering footsteps of people entering through the gate, and a large package was carried in.

“Mr. Akechi is here, right?” “Please sign for this.” A man who looked like a truck driver was shouting.

When he looked, outside the door, two men were carrying something large. It was like a box. A long, narrow box-like object, about six feet in length. It pushed open the door and slid smoothly into the room. Kamiya froze in shock. The second coffin. What had happened at his house that morning was recreated here exactly as it had been. Am I dreaming? No—that wasn’t it. It’s not a dream. Then, whose corpse lay inside that coffin this time?

“Your wife…? Where is your wife?”

Kamiya uttered something like delirious nonsense and glanced around restlessly.

“She’s upstairs.” “She’ll be down soon.” Akechi gave a dismissive reply, stamped the document the driver presented, and ordered them to carry the ominous package into the parlor. “Is it okay?” “Do you know what’s inside that box?”

Kamiya felt as if something dreadful were about to happen at any moment and could not remain calm. “Yes—of course I know,” “I’ll show you right now.”

Akechi was utterly composed. Something was off. Was this man truly Detective Akechi? Could that beast have used his magic to transform into Akechi unnoticed? Otherwise he wouldn't have brought such a terrifying coffin into his house while smirking. Once the drivers had left，Akechi meticulously lowered all parlor window blinds，drew curtains over them to block outside views，and began prying open wooden box lid with prepared crowbar.

Creak, creak—with each unpleasant sound of a nail loosening, one side of the lid began to lift up. And through that gap, the shadowed interior of the box was gradually exposed. What on earth lay inside that coffin? How did Kamiya Yoshio react when he saw it? But that wasn’t all that shocked him. That night at Akechi’s office, one bizarre event after another truly occurred. As if ensnared by a fox’s enchantment, Kamiya could only stand dumbfounded, utterly transfixed by the renowned detective’s strange theatrical spectacle.

Beastman vs. Beastman

About an hour later, as soon as an empty automobile pulled up in front of the Akechi Detective Agency’s gate, someone emerged from the darkness within the premises, was helped by the waiting driver who had opened the door, and wordlessly entered the vehicle. The driver hurried back to his seat and flicked on the interior light. Revealed by that dim glow was the familiar Western-style attire of Mrs. Akechi Fumiyo. She huddled in the corner of the seat cushion, inexplicably keeping her head bowed.

In such perilous times, now past eight o'clock, what urgent matter could have possibly arisen for her? No matter how stalwart a woman detective she was, wasn't this somewhat too reckless? The Human Leopard remained relentless; it wasn't unthinkable that he lurked somewhere in those surrounding shadows. If that creature were to discover her imprudent outing... No—not "if." It had already been discovered. The beast had indeed been lying in ambush there.

As soon as the car began to glide out noiselessly, a black wind-like figure darted forth as if lying in wait and abruptly clung to the rear of the automobile. Needless to say—it was him. Behind the receding automobile, two phosphorescent glows resembling will-o’-the-wisps were visible. [Note: Automobiles of that era were box-shaped, enabling one to cling to their rear.]

But how long could he cling on like that? Soon, the car would undoubtedly emerge onto bright streets. It would undoubtedly pass in front of a police box as well. Then, Mrs. Fumiyo would be spared from harm. If only it would quickly reach the bright main streets.

But what on earth was happening? The automobile, almost spitefully—as if deliberately—chose desolate town after desolate town, and moreover was gradually heading out toward the suburbs. The back of the automobile loomed large, and in the darkness, the Human Leopard’s grotesque face stuck out a dull black tongue and grinned malevolently.

They had already left the old city area; it was a desolate outskirts town. Between the squalid towns there loomed what looked like a vast forest. The sacred grove from when that area had still been a village remained perfectly preserved.

To everyone’s genuine surprise, Mrs. Fumiyo’s automobile charged headlong into the darkness of that sacred grove—as if it had fallen perfectly into the murderer’s design. The car came to a stop in the open space before the shrine hall. Large cedar and cypress trees surrounded the area, shrouding the already dark night sky and plunging it into deeper darkness. Into that hair-raising silence, poor Mrs. Fumiyo was cast out like a human sacrifice from an old tale.

Hmm, isn't this all a bit too convenient? But the beast, burning with carnal desire, had no capacity to consider such things. Endō, disguised as a giant ape, leapt down to the ground and immediately flung open the passenger-side door. With a strange growl, he plunged into the vehicle.

In the corner of the seat cushion sat the beautiful Mrs. Fumiyo, still keeping her head bowed. She would surely cry out in alarm. She would surely try to resist with those delicate arms. Burning with cruel anticipation, Endō lunged at Mrs. Fumiyo—yet she neither cried out nor even stirred. Had she fainted? But even so...

Endō stretched out both hands and clutched Mrs. Fumiyo’s shoulders tightly—then, as if startled by something, he let out a furious scream like “Gyah!” Before one could blink, he yanked her body effortlessly out of the car, hurled it spitefully onto the ground, and began stomping on it chaotically.

That was not Mrs. Fumiyo. No—it was not a living woman. It was nothing more than a single cold wax mannequin dressed in Mrs. Fumiyo’s clothes.

“Damn you! Damn you!” It was no wonder Endō, driven to desperation, had stomped on what appeared to be Mrs. Fumiyo.

Ah, so that was it.

Inside the coffin-like wooden box that had been delivered to Akechi’s office earlier was not the corpse Kamiya had feared, but this very mannequin doll. Akechi, who had declared that one counters magic with magic, must have anticipated this very scenario and ordered the mannequin during the day. And that bold trick worked perfectly. The idea of a mannequin riding in an automobile and going out was something not even the most cunning demon could have anticipated.

“Fuh-fuh-fuh… You’ve worked hard, haven’t you?”

A black shadow stood behind Endō and suddenly spoke. Even the monster appeared startled by this ambush; he braced himself and turned around. “You’re the driver, aren’t you?” “That’s right.” “I’m the driver who brought you here.” The black shadow stood with arms crossed, perfectly composed.

“You—aren’t you afraid of me?”

Endō growled in an eerie, low voice, pressing his menace.

“Heh-heh-heh… You’re the one who should be scared.” “Hey, colleague—take a good look at my face.” “Who do you think I am?” The driver removed the soft cap pulled low over his eyes and swiftly leaned out through the automobile window to reveal his face. No wonder Endō shuddered violently.

There was another Endō there. A dark, bony face; unkempt hair; crimson lips; beast-like white teeth peeking through them; a crumpled black suit—another Human Leopard, identical in every detail, had emerged in the dark forest night.

The two human beasts pressed their identical faces together under the faint glow of the car’s interior lamp, bared their fangs, and glared at one another with smoldering hostility.

On Endō’s face was an astonished expression, like a beast confronted with its own reflection in a mirror. Terror as vivid as encountering a ghost was etched across his features. “Who the hell are you?” he asked in a trembling voice. “I’m your brother-in-arms.” “Don’t spout nonsense! Who are you really?” “Take a guess.” Endō tried to steady himself, remaining silent for a moment before suddenly contorting his face into a horrifying visage and shouting: “You’re disguised! I’ve got it! You’re Akechi! You’re Akechi Kogorō!”

“Hahahaha! Finally figured it out, have you?” “Exactly as you guessed.” “There’s no one but me who’d subject you to this sort of ordeal.” “By the way, what do you think of my disguise?” “Anyone would say it’s identical to yours.” “Do you think this could deceive even your father’s eyes?” “What do you say to that?” “What? My old man?” “Yes, your father.” “Because merely capturing you left me unsatisfied.” “I thought I might as well bundle up both father and son to deliver to the police.”

“You’re doing this alone?”

When it came to raw strength, the Human Leopard possessed the power of ten men; in a one-on-one struggle, he wouldn’t so much as flinch. "Well, I’m not necessarily alone."

“So… you’ve got comrades lying in wait around here, haven’t you?” No sooner had Endō’s countenance turned ferocious than he abruptly spread his arms wide and tried to lunge at him. “No—I won’t allow that.” “Under the justification of self-defense, I’m fully prepared to shoot you dead.” “Keep your hands up.”

Because Akechi’s movements were swift, the opponent had no chance to draw the prepared pistol. Even the beast had no choice but to assume a “stay” position as commanded. But even as he did so, he kept a vigilant eye, ready to pounce at any opening. “Gentlemen, you may come out now. Please come quickly and bind this guy.”

In response to Akechi’s voice, four or five plainclothes officers came scrambling out from the dark shadows of the trees. “Endō, stay docile!” The foremost among them let out an old-fashioned shout and grappled Endō from behind, whereupon the two officers who followed bound up the Human Leopard with arrest ropes through savvy handling, rendering him immobile in an instant. “Well then, I’ll leave this guy in your hands.” “I still have to track down the other one.”

Akechi holstered his pistol and said quietly. “Understood. The section chief will convey his thanks to you in due course. Then we’ll be on our way.”

As one of the plainclothes officers leaped into the driver’s seat of the automobile, the idling engine began to roar. The remaining people manhandled the Human Leopard and forced him into the narrow car.

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

Labyrinth of Iron Pipes

About an hour later, a figure was wandering like a shadow along the pitch-dark road before Akechi Detective Agency’s gate. He moved as though wary of human eyes—shunning eaves lights, keeping to the shadows of dark walls, muffling his footsteps while pacing back and forth along a fixed route. He was a thin man wearing a black suit. When he inadvertently drew near an eaves light, one could see he bore an uncanny resemblance to the grotesque visage of that Human Leopard. Of course, it had to be Akechi in disguise. But why was he loitering in such a suspicious manner before his own house?

Hmm, had I miscalculated? He should have arrived by now. That old man—if his son didn't return soon, he'd grow unbearably worried and would surely come searching around here... But I was certain this prediction wouldn't fail... Akechi kept peering into the darkness as he turned these thoughts over. He had disguised himself as Endō and was lying in wait for Endō's father to come searching. The eccentric disguise he'd maintained since departing had indeed been for this very purpose. Even between parent and child, there was no detecting this ruse in such darkness. Moreover, when it came to disguise techniques, he possessed absolute confidence.

"Oh—it seems a call has come to the house."

Akechi suddenly pricked up his ears. It was indeed the sound of the telephone bell in his house. Who could it be from? Fumiyo had locked herself in the second-floor living room, so Kobayashi must be the one answering the phone. He wondered if it was some urgent matter.

He could not rush into the house. At any moment, Endō’s father might show up. If he were spotted entering his house, everything would be ruined. At that moment, the fact that he had noticed the telephone bell ringing in the distant mansion might have been something like a premonition. For that telephone call was the very thing that would prove fatal to him. For precisely because he had failed to hear it, he was forced to commit an unforeseen blunder. But that is a story for later.

Enduring patiently as he continued wandering through the darkness, he finally found a lead. A barefoot man in tattered kimono—looking every bit a beggar—emerged from the shadows. After staring intently at him for some time, he suddenly strode forward and thrust something like a scrap of paper into his hands. Return with this one. Something urgent has come up that requires discussion.

When he brought the scrap of paper close to the eaves light, such things were scrawled there in large pencil letters. It was familiar handwriting. It must be Endō’s father. “Ain’t no mistake here. You’re Endō, right?” The man who looked like a beggar pressed, as if to confirm. Upon closer inspection, this guy didn’t know Endō’s face. Even if one didn’t know him, there was no fear of mistaking him—his face had such distinctive features. He must have been briefed on those distinctive features. Akechi was no longer trembling with fear.

“Yeah, no mistake here,” he replied gruffly. “But where’s my old man now? At home?” “Dunno if it’s his place or where,” the man spat. “Got asked in Shibaura.” Aha—so their hideout was near Shibaura after all. “Shibaura? That’s miles off,” he pressed, keeping his voice low and gravelly like Endō’s trademark growl. “You walk all that way?”

“Yeah. Course.” “But my legs’re faster’n trains.” “But that won’t work for me.” “How ’bout we splurge on a taxi?” “I hate them taxis.” “But if you’re stuck, I’ll ride along.”

What a terrible messenger Old Man Endō had sent! From this alone appeared clear proof they retained no capable subordinates about them now. Akechi pulled his soft hat down over his eyes and hailed an entaku. He sat beside the vagrant inside the vehicle. The car raced toward Shibaura following the vagrant's directions.

“The person who asked you to deliver the letter is definitely my old man, right? Describe that person’s appearance.”

Akechi tried to confirm it just to be safe. “I dunno what he is, but he’s a kindly old man who gives me some pocket money every now and then.” “He’s a small, skinny old man with a face full of white whiskers and bulging eyes.” “Yeah, then there’s no mistake.” “And that person is waiting for me to come in Shibaura?”

“That’s right. He’s waiting in the iron pipe tenements.” “Iron pipe tenements?” “You don’t know about it? The old man often comes to visit the iron pipe tenements. Look, those water pipes over there all jumbled up. I’ve been living in those iron pipe tenements for ages myself.” It was common knowledge that vagrants made their dens in the large water supply pipes. So, were the Endō father and son using the inside of those iron pipes as a temporary hideout?

As they exchanged such talk, the car was entering the darkness of Shibaura.

“Where are you going?” “There’s no town beyond this point anymore.”

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 endless darkness. True to form, the vagrants were accustomed to this; they took the lead and briskly walked ahead along the unseen path. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cloudy sky gradually began to appear faintly white. The dim reflected light faintly brought the objects on the ground into relief, like an ink painting. “Here it is. I’ll look for the old man now.” When he focused his eyes in the direction the vagrant had indicated, what an astonishingly vast array of iron pipes lay before him. On the blackened ground, enormous cylinders—appearing especially jet-black—were packed tightly in rows stretching as far as the eye could see into the distance.

“Hey, old man! You here?” “Looks like he just left.” When the vagrant shouted loudly, cries of “Shut up!” immediately erupted from various spots across the ground. “Be quiet!” surged like a wave of scolding voices. Inside the iron pipes that had seemed utterly deserted, countless residents were taking their daily rest. No doubt it was disturbing their sleep. But the insensitive vagrant raised his voice again. “Hey, old man! Here?”

Then, from somewhere deep beneath the earth, faintly, faintly, “Hey!” A reply came faintly through the darkness. “Seems like he’s pretty far in,” said the vagrant. “Watch your head so you don’t bash it. Just follow right behind me.” The vagrant guide crawled into one of the iron pipes. Akechi reluctantly got down on all fours and rustled after him. The cold iron smell bit his nostrils.

As soon as they emerged from one long iron pipe, another pipe’s opening lay immediately ahead. Crawling through one after another in this way, a truly troublesome situation arose. Akechi had unknowingly lost sight of his guide. In the pitch-black darkness where nothing was visible, it wasn’t merely that he’d lost visual contact—he had entirely ceased sensing any trace of the man’s presence. “Hey—where are you?”

Even when he called out in a small voice, his voice only echoed through the iron pipes with no reply. To make matters worse, he had forgotten to ask the vagrant’s name. He couldn’t call out even if he wanted—there was no way to address him. Even the renowned detective had not known that iron pipe tenements could be such a bizarre place. When he strained his ears, snoring could be heard from somewhere far away. This was no uninhabited wasteland. People were indeed present here. Yet now he had completely lost his sense of direction. Since the iron pipes were not aligned parallel to each other, crawling through one after another became equivalent to wandering lost in a labyrinth.

Eventually, when he came to a slightly wider gap between the mouths of the iron pipes, Akechi stood on the ground there and nimbly poked his head up above the pipes. Then, to his astonishment, every direction was a sea of iron pipes. Dark as it was, he could scarcely discern which direction to take to reach the outside ground most quickly. In any case, he made a random guess and crawled out rustlingly, but after proceeding for a while, he somehow felt as though his surroundings had begun to stir. Voices could be heard murmuring from various directions. Wondering what was happening, he strained his ears and could hear a somewhat clearer voice.

“Hey, they say the Human Leopard’s fled in here!” “What’s a Human Leopard?” “Don’t you know? He’s that arch-villain everyone’s been in an uproar about lately. It’s the terrifying beast that killed Egawa Ranko!” Such words reached his ears faintly and fragmented.

Akechi did not yet clearly grasp the terrifying meaning of it. *There's no way something as absurd as a Human Leopard being here could be true.* *Hasn't that guy been properly captured?* He carelessly thought such things. Before long, the commotion of the iron pipe dwellers seemed to grow increasingly louder. Shouting voices began to echo here and there. “Hey, everyone, wake up!” “They say the Human Leopard’s fled in here!”

“There’s a murderer here!” Those voices echoed through the iron pipes and roared with tremendous force. Akechi finally understood his terrifying predicament.

“There isn’t another Human Leopard. It was me—the Human Leopard. If there was someone here who knew Endō’s appearance, they’d immediately take me for the Human Leopard without a doubt.”

It was truly an indescribable perplexity. Even if he suddenly tried to remove the makeup from his face, without oil or at least water, there was nothing he could do.

“Oh no, this has turned into a real mess.”

At this point, there was no other option but to abandon any attempt to capture him and flee. He, cautiously trying to distance himself from the voices, crawled recklessly from one iron pipe to another.

Then, he suddenly collided with a terrifying obstacle.

“Ah! It hurts! Who’s there? Who is it?” The man who had collided with Akechi noticed his suspicious demeanor and began shouting at the top of his lungs. “Hey, everyone! He’s here!” “The Human Leopard bastard’s here!” Akechi fled hurriedly in the opposite direction without a word. But that only served to worsen the situation even further. His fleeing had only served to confirm their conviction that he was undoubtedly the Human Leopard. “He’s fleeing! He’s fleeing!” “Yoshikō! He fled your way!” “Catch him!”

And so began the blind, reckless game of tag within the iron pipe maze. He fled and fled, drenched in sweat, fleeing frantically. Akechi found himself in such a bizarre situation for the first time in his life. He felt as though he had come to thoroughly understand the mindset of one being pursued.

Fleeing and fleeing, when he abruptly realized—ah, he was saved! He finally managed to escape the labyrinth of iron pipes. Before him now lay no obstacles. A vast black open space stretched out before him.

Relieved, he plodded out of there—when right at his ear, “Aaaah!” A shout erupted. Startled, he hunched his shoulders and peered outside, only to realize his momentary relief had been a fleeting illusion. The vagrants had anticipated Akechi’s escape route and now clustered at the exit in a single mass, weapons clutched in every hand. Akechi instantly sensed the danger, jerked his head back, and fled the way he had come. But countless enemies lay ahead too. Each time he dashed through one iron pipe, he had to carefully choose the next one to crawl into.

Hmm, something’s off here. The persistence of these vagrants is something else. There’s something going on. Ah, perhaps…

Akechi, hurrying through the dark iron pipe, abruptly noticed it there. Somehow, old man Endō might have seen through Akechi’s true identity. Perhaps, while hiding himself, the old man was inciting the vagrants to torment the detective in his stead. In that case, wasn’t it a stroke of luck that Akechi was disguised as the Beast-Man Endō? “Interesting. If that’s the case,” he thought, “why should I cower and let myself be caught by these guys?”

Akechi’s courage, on the contrary, surged a hundredfold. “Fight magic with magic,” he thought, resolved to pull one over on them with a trick of his own.

He stopped fleeing and crouched in the middle of the iron pipe. And then, he strained his ears to the footsteps approaching from behind. They came—they came. Rough breathing could be heard. A knocking sound against the iron pipe wall. The enemies seemed to number two or three. “Hey, he definitely came this way!”

“To hell with it! Just go straight ahead!” A hissing whisper cut through the air. The leading shadow heaved forward through the darkness. When the gap closed to three feet, it froze—Akechi’s silhouette had been spotted. “Who’s there? Who’s there?” The shout trembled with barely contained fear. Akechi held his breath. Silent, he clenched his right fist and leveled it at the shadow’s sternum.

“Ain’t answering.” “So it’s you, bastard!” “Hey, take him down!” A black shadow flew at him like the wind. Akechi’s waiting fist struck his opponent’s chest with a sharp crack. He moved to pin down the collapsing opponent. “Hey, I got him!” “It’s definitely the Human Leopard.” “Lend me a hand.” “I’ll go gather everyone, so…”

The one who had shouted in a vagrant-like manner was none other than Akechi Kogorō himself. The one he was holding down was the lead vagrant, who had been dazed by 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 together. “Alright, I’ll handle this here.” “Hurry up and call everyone!” There was no need for them to tell him. Akechi stood up in the gap between the iron pipes and shouted at the top of his voice.

“Heyyy! I got him! I caaaught the Human Leopard…!” After slipping through two or three iron pipes, he stood in another gap, shouted in the same manner, then moved to the next gap—all while feigning a rallying call for his comrades—gradually distancing himself toward the end of the iron pipe row. Guided by Akechi’s voice in the darkness, the vagrants rushed one after another toward the iron pipe where the capture had occurred. And by the time Akechi stealthily crawled out into the open space outside, not a single enemy shadow remained in the vicinity.

Akechi, hurrying through the darkness toward the city district, fiercely exerted his mental faculties to unravel the meaning hidden behind the vagrants’ mysterious attack. Even if there had been vagrants among them who knew Endō, there was no way they could have recognized him in that pitch darkness. Thus, the only ones who knew that Akechi—disguised as the Human Leopard—had slipped into the iron pipes were the imbecile-like vagrant who had guided him there and Endō’s father, who had written him the letter.

But whether it was old man Endō or the imbecile-like vagrant, there was no reason for them to expose their ally's secret. There was no reason to incite the vagrants to attack him.

What was strange, however, was that old man Endō, having summoned his own son, had not shown himself at all. Not only that—even when his own child was under attack and in such dire straits, he showed no sign of coming to the rescue. Even for Akechi, he couldn’t help but feel that old man Endō had somehow outsmarted him. Was there not some deeper meaning to this strange feeling?

If old man Endō 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. It must be. If I consider that, all mysteries unravel. To know it was a disguise yet present him as the genuine murderer Endō before those justice-driven vagrants—what an ironic method of retaliation. Akechi thought he was toying with the enemy, but wasn’t he actually the one being toyed with? Wasn’t this exactly the kind of "magic trick" that a suspicious old man like him would devise?

But wait. There was still something that didn't quite add up. How could an old man who'd never even met him have seen through Akechi's disguise? Then could that imbecile-like vagrant be a traitor...? No—that couldn't be. Akechi wasn't so foolish as to have missed that after sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with him in the automobile.

While crossing the dark open space, as he pondered this and that, a terrifying thought flashed through Akechi’s mind like a spark. “Ah, so that’s it!”

Akechi was so violently shocked that he involuntarily let out a muttered exclamation.

“So… so… Ah, I’ve done something unthinkable.” "But what devilish cunning!" Even the renowned detective could not help but shudder at a certain terrifying phantom.

“It might already be too late. But even if it is, I must try everything I can.” He abruptly dashed into the darkness, stumbling over the rocky path as though flying. He raced toward the city district like a bullet. Crossing the wide concrete bridge revealed clusters of houses. Soon came a midnight train track resembling ruins. At its crossroads stood an isolated public telephone booth. He wrenched the door open with a violent tug, stepped inside, and—fumbling for coins—snatched up 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 automobile with Fumiyo's decoy mannequin, Kamiya Yoshio—the client in the case—had also returned home for the time being, leaving only three people behind: Mrs. Akechi Fumiyo, assistant Kobayashi Shōnen, and the maid.

Mrs. Fumiyo ordered Kobayashi boy to secure both the front and back doors tightly, shut herself in the second-floor bedroom, locked it from the inside, and remained on guard against any eventuality. On the small table beside the bed, even a loaded pistol had been prepared.

It was an intensely tense, long, long night. Would her husband’s bold plan succeed as intended? Was there any chance it might fail? I wonder if we’re being too greedy, trying to capture not just Endō but even his father all in a single night. Though Mrs. Fumiyo completely trusted Akechi’s abilities, even she couldn’t help feeling anxious. Around ten at night, a call came from Akechi while he was out. When Kobayashi boy answered the phone, [the caller] said, “Rest assured—we’ve successfully captured Endō. Now we’re heading out to search for his father. I might be a bit late.” The voice on the phone was very distant, so low it was hard to make out, but Kobayashi boy relayed it to Mrs. Fumiyo upstairs without a hint of suspicion.

However, at the very moment that telephone rang—as the reader knows—Akechi Kogorō himself, disguised as the Human Leopard, had been pacing up and down the dark street right in front of his office. It was, needless to say, a fake call. But who would play such a prank, and for what purpose? What kind of terrifying meaning was hidden behind this prank?

Be that as it may, about an hour later, the front doorbell blared loudly. There was no reason for a visitor to come at this late hour. Thinking it must be Mr. Akechi returning, Kobayashi boy dashed to the entrance like a shot and opened the door. The one standing there was indeed Detective Akechi. But what a bizarre figure this was. The same hideous human-beast makeup as when he had departed: a gaunt face smeared with dusky shadowed makeup, crimson lips, and a terrifying mouth housing fang-like false teeth. On top of his bizarre appearance, under one arm, a Western-clad female figure was being held limply.

When Kobayashi boy saw this, he reflexively recoiled in alarm, but upon closer consideration, it turned out to be nothing serious. What Akechi carried was not a living person. It was merely the mannequin doll used as bait to capture Endō. “Welcome back.” Kobayashi boy formally greeted his master. “Put this mannequin back in its original wooden box. The doll shop owner will come retrieve it later.”

Akechi handed the doll to Kobayashi, then took off his shoes and went upstairs. The mannequin’s wooden box was placed at the end of the dark corridor. Kobayashi was clumsily carrying the mannequin toward the wooden box when Akechi stood staring intently at his retreating figure for some reason. Then he abruptly strode after the boy and made as if to embrace him from behind before opening the door there and entering the maid’s room.

For what reason on earth had the detective done such a thing? 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 abruptly encountered Mrs. Fumiyo. Since it seemed her husband had returned home, she had opened the bedroom she had barricaded herself in and was now about to go downstairs to greet him. Akechi answered “Ah” and went ahead into the bedroom. “Kobayashi and everyone else aren’t here?” Mrs. Fumiyo asked with a puzzled look.

Mrs. Fumiyo asked with a puzzled look. "No, I just gave Kobayashi a small task." "Just come here." Because of the disguise dentures, Akechi's voice sounded completely like that of another person. "No, I can't—not with that terrifying appearance." "You should wash your face soon." "No, there's no time for that." "Just get into the room." "I've got something to talk to you about."

And the two entered the bedroom. Though called a bedroom, it doubled as Mrs. Fumiyo’s living space, divided by a curtain—on one side stood a bed, and on the other, a desk, table, dressing mirror, and several chairs neatly arranged. The desk lamp cast a dim glow over them. “No, leave it as it is.” “It’s better in the dark.”

When Mrs. Fumiyo reached for 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 opposite him. “You must be exhausted. But the Human Leopard decoy worked perfectly, didn’t it?” Mrs. Fumiyo said, as if praising the bold strategy. “Yeah, when I jumped down from the driver’s seat and appeared before him, it was truly satisfying. There were two perfect Human Leopards staring each other in the face, you see.”

Akechi, his grotesque Human Leopard face shrouded in the lampshade’s shadow, grinned slyly. “He must have been shocked.” “Yeah, he made a miserable face, I tell you.” “Plus, with my pistol trained on him, Yakko couldn’t lift a finger.” “Then I gave the signal and handed him over to the detectives lying in wait, but…” “Then he must be groaning in the Metropolitan Police Department’s basement right now.” “Do you think so?” Akechi spoke oddly.

“But that’s the only way it could be—” “Heh heh heh… But that’s not how it is.” “What I want to tell you is that very thing.” “Actually, Endō has escaped.” “Oh…” Mrs. Fumiyo’s beautiful face stared at the speaker in shock.

“Endō was bound hand and foot, guarded by five detectives, and was about to be taken to the Metropolitan Police Department in that automobile.” “However, the police’s ropes were a bit too weak for the Human Leopard, you see.” “Endō exerted all his strength into both arms—with a grunt, they snapped clean through.” “That was when the automobile had reached a desolate spot beside the reservoir.” “The detectives—as you’d expect—shouted ‘Ah!’ and lunged at him, but against the freed Human Leopard, five or six were no match at all.” “And sadly, those detectives didn’t have any firearms.” “So they had a terrible time and ended up thrown out of the automobile—every last one of them.”

“So, Endō drove that automobile to escape, right?” “That’s right. He escaped in high spirits.”

“But where were you at that time?” “Me? In other words, that’s Akechi Kogorō. After I handed Endō over to the detectives in the forest, I then set out to search for his father, you see.” Mrs. Fumiyo made a strange face and stared intently at the speaker. Even accounting for the dentures, Akechi tonight somehow seemed like a completely different person. And what was with this strange way of speaking?

He wasn’t one to normally use such affected phrases as “In other words, that’s Akechi Kogorō.”

“And as for Endō,” Akechi was unusually talkative. “He drove that automobile straight to Shibaura.” “The plan was for Endō’s father to be waiting at Shibaura’s water pipe storage yard.” “After father and son conferred, they had a vagrant deliver a letter to Akechi’s—that is, my—location…” “Oh, then you…” “I was loitering in front of this house at the time.” “I figured if I stayed there, Endō’s father would come looking for me.” “I’d disguised myself as Endō to act as his substitute.” “But here’s the strange part.” “Endō’s side knew all about this strategy.” “When we captured Endō earlier, I accidentally let something slip.”

“…………” Mrs. Fumiyo could no longer respond. Some inexplicable terror seemed to creep up her spine, rendering her unable to move a muscle. “So, guided by vagrants, I went out to the Shibaura reclaimed land.” “That Akechi fellow has probably been captured by those vagrant riffraff inside those iron pipes by now.” “Because there are twenty or thirty vagrants there who use those iron pipes as their roost.” “If they find the Human Leopard, he won’t get off easy.”

The speaker thrust his grotesque face forward abruptly and let out a sinister *heh heh heh* laugh.

“Who are you? Who are you?” Mrs. Fumiyo turned deathly pale and stared fixedly at this strange figure. She didn’t need to ask who he was. If this wasn’t Akechi himself, then it had to be the other one. It had to be Human Leopard Endō.

“Heh heh heh… No one at all—your husband.” “Your dear husband.” He brazenly declared as he lumbered to his feet and approached Mrs. Fumiyo. Why hadn’t she noticed it until now? If this were Akechi’s disguise, his eyes wouldn’t be shining like this. The monster’s eyes were burning as if they were blue flames! As his carnal desire grew, those flames burned ever more fiercely!

Mrs. Fumiyo, her body gone numb as if paralyzed, mustered her last reserves of strength, swiftly rose to her feet, ducked beneath the devil’s outstretched hand, and fled into the hallway.

“Mr. Kobayashi! Someone, hurry…”

But strangely, the house was deathly silent, and no one answered.

“Kobayashi? “Ah, that brat, eh? “They’re in the maid’s room. “I’ll take you there myself.”

The monster quickly chased after Mrs. Fumiyo and, embracing her with terrifying strength, forced his way down the stairs. “There. Take a good look.” “Kobayashi and the maid are both like that.” “They’re sleeping soundly, I tell you.” He opened the door to the maid’s room and made Mrs. Fumiyo look inside. Sure enough, just as he had said, the two lay sprawled unconscious on the floor. Of course, it was the effect of the devil’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 down over her nose and mouth, making even breathing impossible. “Now now, don’t thrash around like that. Be a good girl now. I’ll make it easy for you soon.” Endō kept Mrs. Fumiyo restrained and manipulated her as freely as if she were a doll.

“You’re going to become a doll.” “Look—there’s a doll box right here.” “This time you’ll be entering it as the doll’s replacement.” “Then I’ll give the signal from the second-floor window.” “Following that signal, my deliveryman will come collect this box.” “The deliveryman happens to be my subordinate.” “Then we’ll truck it off—care to guess where?”

Endō had become utterly ecstatic and rambled on. He was intoxicated by both the joy of securing his prize and the brilliance of his acquisition method. He would take the very mechanism that his archenemy Detective Akechi had painstakingly devised and turn it completely against him. Akechi’s disguise, the mannequin doll—even that wooden crate. What a magnificent means of revenge this was!

Mrs. Fumiyo was not a woman so weak as to faint. Precisely because of that, this insult struck her heart even more violently. She could do nothing to stop her entire body from trembling with indescribable disgust. The beast’s body odor, the beast’s breath, the beast’s muscular strength—she felt the true leopard. A beast’s face loomed over hers. The blazing blue eyes, the slimy red lips, the sharp fangs peering out from between them—all were magnified to a shocking degree, looming within an inch or two.

She saw the red lips gape open like a tunnel. Then, from within the dark tunnel, an enormous tongue flicked out. Ah, that tongue! She saw it vividly— the dusky black tongue’s surface covered thick with sharp protrusions like a mountain of needles, swaying like reeds rustling in the wind—swish-swish—as the tongue moved.

Black thread. In the dim corridor corner sat a large wooden box resembling a coffin - the very life-sized mannequin case Akechi had acquired to deceive Endō. Inside now lay not a doll but the beautiful Fumiyo, her consciousness stolen by anesthetic. The Human Leopard slowly lowered the lid from above, licking his lips as he muttered like one speaking to himself. "Hmph... Lying like that, you look just like a doll." "My beautiful doll!" "It'll be cramped for a bit, but endure it." "Wait till we reach my place - I'll pamper you like a princess. Heh heh heh..."

Then, he snapped the lid shut, gathered the rope scattered beside the box, and wound it tightly around the lid. All that remained was to summon the two subordinates waiting in the outer darkness and have them carry off the doll box.

Endō started walking toward the entrance to signal his subordinates but stopped abruptly after only two or three steps. It was the shrill telephone bell resounding throughout the house, which was like an empty shell. He instinctively braced himself and listened intently for a moment, but upon realizing it was the telephone, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and started to walk away. But soon, a cunning smile rose on the Human Leopard’s ugly face. His phosphorescent eyes narrowed to slits, and as his crimson lips curled back sharply, white double fangs peeked fleetingly from the corners like exposed teeth.

He turned around with that grotesque expression still on his face and strode briskly into the study. Then, grasping the desk phone there, he suddenly removed the receiver and pressed it to 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—the caller was Akechi Kogorō. Upon realizing this, Endō’s eyes narrowed even further, as though listening to pleasant music.

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

“Hello? Yes, that’s right.” “This is the Akechi Detective Agency.” “However, Kobayashi-kun is… tied up at the moment, you see.”

Endō answered in a disguised voice. He wore an expression of unbearable delight. (If it’s not Kobayashi, then who on earth are you—) “Me? “Me? Someone you know… someone you know very well.” (Who are you? Is there no one from my side there?) Even the astute Akechi showed no sign of realizing that the person on the phone was the Human Leopard.

“However, there’s no one here at all.”

(Wh-wh-what did you say? No one’s there… at this hour?) “Yes, that’s right. Kobayashi-kun is in the kitchen, sleeping soundly with the maid—no matter how much you try to wake him, he won’t get up—and your wife has gotten into the mannequin box and won’t come out.” As if shocked, Akechi’s voice ceased for a moment.

“Hello? What’s wrong?” “You’re Mr. Akechi, I presume?” Endō stuck out his dark tongue and slurped noisily around his lips. It was the beast-man’s moment of triumph. _Hahaha… So you’re Endō._ _I wondered who it was._ _If it’s you… all the better._ _How goes your work?_ Suddenly, Akechi’s voice turned cheerful. “Impressive!” “As expected of Mr. Akechi!” “Not even a flinch.” “By the way—do you know why I… why _the man you captured earlier_ stands here now?”

(The escorting detectives made a blunder. Japanese police aren’t accustomed to apprehending wild beasts, you see. Thanks to that, I nearly had a hell of a time, I tell you.) “You seem rather clever. Or is it your father?” “Hehehe… You’ve completely figured out our conspiracy in an instant.” “Impressive.” “But you managed to survive, didn’t you? Didn’t you have a terrible time in Shibaura?” (The one who had a terrible time was some vagrant. I merely observed that spectacle. Hahahaha.)

“So, you also managed to escape skillfully, huh? It’s good we’re both safe and sound—uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.”

And so, the unparalleled fiendish killer and the renowned detective chuckled in unison over the telephone line as though sharing some grand amusement. “Seeing that you’re calling,” he sneered, “you must be far away… Near Shibaura, I suppose.” The Human Leopard twisted his glistening crimson lips into a spiteful grimace and jeered in a grotesquely unnatural accent.

_That’s right._ _I’m at a public telephone in Shibaura._

“Hehehe… I’m truly delighted, Detective… You’re seething right now, sweating greasy drops from your forehead.” “I can see it… Even if you grab a cheap taxi there and rush like mad, it’ll still take twenty minutes to reach here.” “Or will you call the police?” “But even if those cops panic and race over in their beat-up cars, it’ll take them ten minutes from there.” “As for me though—I can abandon your empty house in thirty seconds flat.” “My work here’s already done, you see.”

(…………)

“As I said earlier, your employees—that two-bit detective Kobayashi and the maid—are sleeping soundly on the kitchen’s wooden floor. My truck’s waiting outside. I’ll load up crated Mrs. Fumiyo there and make my exit—that’s the plan. I do feel a tad sorry for you—tonight marks your eternal farewell with that beautiful wife of yours.”

(You seem to underestimate my capabilities as a detective.) Akechi’s voice remained completely composed, devoid of any trace of unease. “Yeah, I do look down on you,” “A detective who lets his own wife get stolen—it’s only right to despise you.” But that’s absolutely impossible. You’re dreaming. You have no idea of my true power. The voice through the receiver carried an air of unshakable conviction. Its tone held something that visibly jarred Endō.

“Hahaha! Still making excuses for your defeat, eh? That distant howling of yours won’t do you any good!”

(Hey, you. Do you know why I've been keeping up this idle chatter? ...I'm being remarkably composed, aren't I? Do I not look like a man whose wife is about to be stolen?... Aren't you frightened? You'll never grasp what I'm plotting now.)

“Damn it! So you tampered with something before calling here, didn’t you!” “The police?” “Have you called the police?” (Hahaha… How about it? Getting a little scared, aren’t you? It might be the police. It might be something else entirely. Regardless, you’ve fallen into my final trap indeed. Hahaha, you seem very concerned. I can hear your breathing all the way here.) “Shut up, shut up! “I’m not some fool who’ll fall for your threats!”

(Now listen here. There's no use getting angry. While I've been chatting so pleasantly with you, I might as well have pinpointed the den of you and your father. A black thread—no, an invisible black thread—clung to your body like a spider's web and wouldn't let go. No matter how far you went, that thread would follow wherever you went.)

Endō made a strange face upon hearing this and involuntarily glanced around his surroundings. Truly, he began to be assailed by an eerily uncanny sensation—as though a spider’s thread had silently descended from some corner of the ceiling and coiled itself around his body.

“I don’t have time to listen to your drivel anymore.” “Then I’m outta here.” “I’ve certainly taken your wife.”

(Now wait a moment. Hahahaha, there's no need to panic like that. Hahahaha, I still have things to say. I've got plenty more to say. Hahahaha.) Even after clattering the receiver down, the detective's eerie laughter clung to his ears, refusing to fade. He shuddered violently—as though shaking off invisible demons—and stood up.

“Heh, you think I’d be frightened by ghost stories or such nonsense?”

His sharp eyes began to emit an intense phosphorescent light. He stepped out into the corridor with a beast-like gait. Then, suddenly, something like a small shadow was sensed swiftly disappearing down the far end of the corridor. The light was only attached near the bent entrance, making that area terribly dim, but through that gloom, something of an unknowable form passed by like a passing assailant.

It seemed almost human. But then again, it didn’t seem to be that either. It might have been a shadow figure. Thinking someone might have passed under the entrance light and cast that shadow, he hurriedly peered around the corner—but there was no sign of anyone. It felt like something large like a bat had flown away skimming along the corridor floor. Endō couldn’t help but panic. It wasn’t that he feared ghost stories. He sensed danger around him. That shadow figure felt like an omen of disaster. Perhaps police already surrounded this house. Perhaps their shadows had even been sensed in the corridor.

He leapt down to the entranceway with the silence of a leopard stalking its prey, cautiously cracked open the front door a sliver, and meticulously scanned the outside darkness with his eyes glowing blue. But what relieved him was that neither in the bushes nor on the road before the gate could he see any suspicious signs. Thereupon, he blew a low whistle twice as a signal.

Before long, two dark human figures came shuffling in from the direction of the gate. They looked like transport company laborers.

“The outside’s secure, right? No one came around, right?”

Endō asked in a whisper. “There’s not a soul in sight.” “It’s an awfully gloomy town, isn’t it?” “Even if it’s midnight, this desolation’s something else.”

“Hey, just to be safe, let’s mention that thing.”

A man whispered something meaningfully. “This guy’s started up again.” “Even though I told ya it’s all in your head, you’re such a cowardly bastard!” “Hey, what’re you mutterin’ about?” “Did somethin’ happen?”

When Endō snapped, the man who had been called a coward glanced around furtively into the surrounding darkness and reported something strange. “It was like a small shadow-like thing prowling around the truck.” “Such a tiny thing, you know.” “Like those shadow figures from Dwarf Island—something that sent chills down your spine, a nasty piece of work.” “Boss, ain’t no need to fret.” “You bastard—you’re actin’ crazy tonight.” “Rather’n that, why don’t we just hurry up an’ get the cargo out?”

These two laborers—ex-convict drivers who likely knew their work was criminal—had been blinded by the enormous payment and hired as Endō’s henchmen for a single night. “Yeah, hurry up.” “The cargo’s in this corridor.” “It’s a hefty piece.” Endō took the lead and approached the mannequin crate. “This is it. Be careful not to handle it roughly—it’s valuable.” “Whoa, this looks just like a coffin.”

“It’s a mannequin crate. There’s a valuable mannequin inside.” “Now hurry up and move it.” While the two men lifted the wooden box, Endō quietly opened the kitchen door and peered inside. Nothing was out of place. Kobayashi and the maid remained sound asleep in their original positions, utterly drained. The mannequin doll Kobayashi had brought—an exact replica of Mrs. Fumiyo—lay doubled over at the torso, its head jammed beneath the cooking counter.

After confirming that, he exited through the gate while keeping an eye on the two men transporting the mannequin crate. In the darkness there, a truck with its headlights off was parked. Once they loaded the cargo, the two men got into the driver’s seat. Endō crouched inside the uncovered box alongside the mannequin crate. The engine blared deafeningly through the midnight mansion district, and in an instant, this bizarre kidnap car sped away from the gate of the Akechi Detective Agency.

In the end, nothing had happened. The police had not arrived in time. The only lingering concern was that mysterious shadow figure said to have wandered the corridor and prowled around the truck, but even that amounted to nothing once the vehicle started moving. Wondering if the shadow might still be clinging nearby, he meticulously checked around the truck, but naturally found nothing. Endō finally felt relief. I've finally won! The beautiful Mrs. Fumiyo has become wholly mine! He leaned against the precious mannequin crate on the swaying truck bed, narrowing his leopard-like eyes and letting his leopard-like mouth hang slack as he emitted a bone-chilling animalistic laugh.

Then, was Akechi’s earlier phone call merely an empty threat? Had the famous detective been reduced to a mere teller of ghost stories? No, no—that was not the case. There was indeed evidence to the contrary. Earlier, Akechi had spoken of the “black thread.” He had said that the “black thread” would cling to Endō and never let go. That thread-like thing—behold!—now trailed thinly from the rear of Endō’s truck onto the dark road below. Was there not something being ceaselessly let out from beneath the red taillight, like a spider’s thread trailing to the ground?

But Endō atop the truck naturally knew nothing of this. Even had he alighted and examined that spot, not even leopard-sharp eyes could have discerned that single strand of spider’s thread in the moonless dark—so tenuous it might not exist at all. So thin it was, so black, ambiguously eerie—a demonic filament.

The demonic truck, choosing the most deserted residential streets it could find, departed midnight Tokyo, heading ever northward.

Let us become invisible eyes for a while, flying through the dark sky while maintaining a suitable distance to follow the trail of this mysterious truck. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes—the truck kept moving without incident. Endō stayed leaning against the mannequin crate, motionless like a black lump.

Even though it was late at night, there were occasionally people passing by. Yet they showed no suspicion toward this seemingly ordinary truck. Though it passed numerous red-lit police boxes, the officers remained oblivious to the terrifying murder car rolling right before their eyes, all turning their gazes away. Before long, as the truck was running along the desolate moat’s edge near Kudan, our invisible eyes witnessed a truly horrifying incident on the vehicle ahead.

Endō’s black figure half-crouched on the truck bed and began frantically moving his hands. What on earth was he doing? Let’s move closer for a better look. Adjusting our distance to about eighteen feet from the truck... Ah, now we understood. He could no longer contain himself. He had grown desperate to see his beloved inside the crate. He untied the rope binding the mannequin box. Lifting the lid, he stared inside. For an unnervingly long time, he stared.

Oh? What was he trying to do? The Human Leopard hadn’t just lifted the unconscious Mrs. Fumiyo from inside the crate. He stood up sharply, tucking her under his arm. Against the arrow-swift truck’s roof, the Human Leopard’s sinewy black silhouette—defiantly planted—and Mrs. Fumiyo’s pallid form dangling limp around his waist emerged in stark relief, two tones of light and dark.

Then, in an instant, something truly horrifying occurred. Had the beast exposed its wild nature? Or had he gone mad, for Mrs. Fumiyo’s neck seemed to stretch out like taffy. The same monstrous strength that had once torn a ferocious dog’s jaws apart on that fateful night now ripped her head from her neck. It was a bizarre illusion or a nightmare-like scene. In the blink of an eye, a white meteor streaked across the dark sky in an arc. Endō suddenly hurled the torn-off head out of the car like a macabre ball-toss from a demon’s realm.

The beast foamed at the mouth, raging mad. A monstrous growl now reached the air. He would not cease until he tore his prey to shreds. After the neck came the hands and legs—ripped off one after another with unimaginable cruelty. And those beautifully dismembered corpses were tossed carelessly, brazenly—no, rather ostentatiously—into the dark moatside as if they were mere daikon radishes.

Sherlock the Famous Dog

Inspector Tsunekawa, head of the Metropolitan Police Department’s First Investigative Division, had just been jolted awake as he was drifting off to sleep. He had returned from the office, played with his little boy, done a bit of reading, and only just gone to bed a moment ago.

The one who had roused him was Akechi Kogorō. He dashed out of a public phone booth in Shibaura, hailed a taxi, and while hurrying home, stopped at Inspector Tsunekawa’s residence along the way to request assistance in apprehending the Human Leopard.

Inspector Tsunekawa, of course, kicked off the bed and sprang up. And after listening to the details from this private detective—both a professional rival and close friend—he was not surprised by Akechi’s grotesque “Human Leopard” disguise, for he had been well-informed about Akechi’s plans for that night—Inspector Tsunekawa promptly called headquarters, selected top detectives, ordered them to rush to the Akechi Detective Agency, quickly donned his uniform, and boarded Akechi’s taxi.

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

Akechi stopped the departing car and shouted. “Alright. You, bring Sherlock here.” Inspector Tsunekawa did not retort a single word and complied exactly as Akechi instructed. If this famous detective said it was necessary, then it must be necessary. Before long, Mrs. Tsunekawa herself pulled out a German Shepherd and put it into the car. The famous dog Sherlock did not make the slightest fuss; with a tense expression as if anticipating something, he crouched between the knees of his owner, Inspector Tsunekawa. Sherlock, born with a keen sense of smell and having received Inspector Tsunekawa’s training, had been honed into a detective dog worthy of his name. He had already aided the inspector and achieved results more than once or twice in the past.

“Do you have some lead in mind?” “...bringing Sherlock along?” When the car started moving, Inspector Tsunekawa finally asked that. “Hmm, whether this dog proves useful or not—that determines my fate.” “If Sherlock proves useless… Ah, how dreadful that would be.” Akechi’s face showed indescribable anxiety, as though he could no longer endure the strain. “As I said earlier, I talked big to him over the phone, but I didn’t have absolute confidence.” “It’s just one desperate gamble.” “Ah, if only that would go smoothly…”

“Who are you talking about? Are you saying you’ve hidden an ambush or something?” Inspector Tsunekawa, unable to grasp the other’s meaning, asked again. “Ah, three minutes… no—even two would suffice. If only that guy could keep breathing for at least two minutes. Hey, Tsunekawa—do you think a human can hold their breath for more than two minutes?”

“You’ve started saying strange things.” “That’s just like you.” “There are people who can last about two minutes.” “Ama divers might last twice as long.” “But ordinary city dwellers could never manage that.” “Even thirty seconds would be pushing it.” “That’s precisely where I’ve found my opening.” “What if there was someone among those city dwellers who could hold their breath for two full minutes?” “In certain situations, that could prove extremely useful, don’t you think?”

“Do you know such a man?”

“Yeah, I know him.” “I know him well.” After that, the famous detective fell silent. Knowing his counterpart’s habits, Inspector Tsunekawa 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 that resembled an abandoned house. “Sherlock’s really worked up. He really can detect the smell of crime after all.”

While saying such things, Inspector Tsunekawa tied his beloved dog to the entrance pillar and removed his shoes. Akechi had Inspector Tsunekawa wait downstairs, checked every room on the second floor, and came back down empty-handed. Meanwhile, the inspector, putting that famous sixth sense of his to work, swiftly sneaked into the kitchen at the end of the hallway. When he cracked open the door and peered inside, there they were—Kobayashi Shōnen, the maid, and even a mannequin, all lying in strange postures.

“Hey, you! Here, over here!”

At Tsunekawa’s voice, Akechi also entered the kitchen. “Oh, you! You there—isn’t that your wife over there? Your wife wasn’t kidnapped after all!” He pointed at the mannequin with its head thrust under the kitchen counter, convinced it was Mrs. Fumiyo. But Akechi was in no state to pay attention to that. He crouched over the fallen Kobayashi Shōnen and stared intently at his face. He stared without blinking, as if willing something to happen.

Then, as if Akechi’s psychic force had taken effect, the boy’s eyes slit open slightly. The narrow eyes veiled by long lashes and Akechi’s own eyes gazed at each other, probing. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have taken so long—a single glance should have sufficed. But as the reader knows, Akechi had not yet removed the Human Leopard’s makeup at this time.

“Ah, Mr. Akechi!” He finally understood. Kobayashi Shōnen sprang upright with a shout. How could someone who had been unconscious moments ago move with such sudden vigor?

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

“Ah, Kobayashi—well done!” “Well done!” Akechi rushed over to the boy who had stood up and, as though unable to contain his gratitude, embraced his shoulders and clasped his hands.

“It’s like a parent-child reunion scene.” “What on earth is going on here?” Inspector Tsunekawa asked, utterly dumbfounded. “Ah, my prediction was spot on.” “I never lied.” “You can rest assured—Fumiyo is safe now.” “We’ve secured the means to capture Endō, and Sherlock wasn’t a waste after all.” Akechi was intoxicated with victory. “That’s splendid news.” “But you’ve known since earlier that your wife was safe, haven’t you?” “You don’t mean she’s actually been killed…?”

Inspector Tsunekawa pointed impatiently at the mannequin.

“However, I had convinced myself that was a mannequin.” “You heard the story—tonight I used Fumiyo’s substitute mannequin.” “From the kimono down to every detail, it was an exact replica.” “I could only assume that thing lying there was it.” “Because the real Fumiyo was the one Endō had put into the mannequin crate and taken away.” “But given Kobayashi’s condition now, that clearly can’t be a mannequin.” “Right? Isn’t that so?”

When he glanced back at the boy, he was grinning and bobbing his head up and down in vigorous nods. But wait—if that were true, nothing made sense anymore. Endō had definitely put Mrs. Fumiyo into that mannequin crate, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he loaded it onto the truck and driven off with it? And hadn’t he subjected that very Mrs. Fumiyo to such a gruesome fate at Kudanzaka? She should have met her end there, her body torn limb from limb. Yet here she lay in the kitchen of the Akechi residence—wasn’t this as baffling as being bewitched by a fox?

But what lay there was not a mannequin after all. No matter what had happened, it was the real Mrs. Fumiyo. Though still unconscious, even without pulling her face out from under the kitchen counter to check, simply touching her body would have made it immediately clear whether it was a mannequin or not. Inspector Tsunekawa and Akechi carried the limp Mrs. Fumiyo and moved her to the study’s sofa for the time being. They also placed the plump maid onto the soft cushion of the armchair there.

Immediately, a doctor was summoned by telephone. But Mrs. Fumiyo was only asleep from the anesthetic. There was no need for concern. What mattered more now was something far greater. The Human Leopard had to be captured.

“Akechi, I still don’t fully grasp the situation—is this Kobayashi’s doing?” “Even so…”

“That’s right. This is the young detective’s great success—in other words, Kobayashi faithfully kept to my usual instructions.”

“So, Kobayashi, are you saying that you took advantage of Endō’s moment of carelessness and swapped Mrs. Fumiyo—who had been put into the crate once—back with the original mannequin?”

“Yes, that’s correct. But if Mr. Akechi hadn’t kept Endō on the phone for so long, I couldn’t have done it at all. I was desperately waiting for an opportunity. Then, opportunely, Mr. Akechi called—through his wisdom, he gave me the chance to do my job. When I heard that call, I sensed Mr. Akechi was secretly giving me an order.”

The boy’s apple-like cheeks shone as he cheerfully explained.

“But wait a moment. Of course, that guy made you smell the anesthetic too. Otherwise, he’d never have been so careless.”

“Yes, but I can hold my breath for a long time. If I try hard enough, I can hold it for over two minutes without trouble. Since Mr. Akechi had always taught me not to forget to use that skill, even when they covered my nose and mouth with gauze, I just held my breath and pretended to faint.”

Even Endō, unaware that this delicate-looking boy possessed such a daring hidden skill, must have felt completely reassured upon seeing him slump over unconscious. “Huh… So it was you.” “I’m astonished… Ah! So this is it, Mr. Akechi—what you’d spoken of so cryptically earlier.” “Exactly.” “My victory or defeat hinged entirely on that single point…… But Kobayashi, you didn’t forget the other matter, did you?” “You recall that device—white by day, black by night.”

“Yes, I set it up successfully.” “Of course, the black one.” “The henchman in the driver’s seat seemed suspicious of something, but apparently didn’t notice that device.” “Inspector Tsunekawa, my invention proved useful, you know.” “That sounds like an interesting story. What exactly is this invention?” “The one that’s white during the day and black at night…”

The inspector’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “You might call it an automobile tracking device,” he said. “When you can’t tail someone directly yourself, it’s a device to track their whereabouts. License plates can be changed anytime someone wants. Moreover, even if you know the number, there are cases where you can’t locate the vehicle.” “Now, as for my invention—fill a large tin can with creosote, fit it with a sturdy handle, and hook it beneath the rear chassis. The can’s bottom had a needle-sized hole. From there—” he gestured dramatically “—the creosote drips like a thin thread onto the ground. That’s how it works.”

“And then you plan to have the tracking dog follow that trickled trail, I suppose.” “Now I understand Sherlock’s role.” “But what’s this ‘white’ and ‘black’ business?” “We use colorless creosote during daylight hours. At night—to avoid light reflection—black creosote, meaning coal tar.” “The tin cans filled with both types had always been kept ready at my house.” “Tailing requires exceptional skill.” “Too difficult for women and children.” “That’s why I instructed Kobayashi and Fumiyo to use this device without risks in emergencies.” “Tonight’s case proved its particular suitability.” “I’d ask you to commend Kobayashi’s resourcefulness.”

“Indeed, your disciple is as capable as they come,” Tsunekawa acknowledged, his voice carrying a mix of professional admiration and urgency. “To exploit the enemy’s distraction during that phone call and accomplish such a feat… Truly remarkable. Now then”—his tone shifted to operational crispness—“let’s ensure Kobayashi’s efforts bear fruit. We commence pursuit immediately.” Akechi’s response came measured yet decisive: “We’ll require a police vehicle. We’ll board it with Sherlock running ahead as our vanguard.” “My detectives should arrive momentarily,” Tsunekawa affirmed, glancing at his wristwatch. “They’ll undoubtedly come by car, Mr. Akechi.”

Before long, the two skilled detectives sped in a police car and arrived.

Akechi entrusted Mrs. Fumiyo to the doctor's care and boarded the car with Inspector Tsunekawa. A long rope had been fastened to Sherlock, and Inspector Tsunekawa, seated in the driver's seat, gripped its end.

Kobayashi Shōnen brought a cloth thoroughly soaked with creosote and thrust it under Sherlock’s nose. This was to ensure the dog fully imprinted the scent of their quarry. The dog sniffed repeatedly, growing accustomed to the chemical’s sharp odor. When Kobayashi suddenly dashed into the house clutching the cloth scrap, Sherlock wavered directionless and stood dumbfounded for moments—but soon, perhaps detecting a matching trail, he pressed his muzzle to the ground and surged forward with renewed vigor.

“Alright, let’s move out.” Following Inspector Tsunekawa’s instructions, the car began to move. Sherlock would pause every now and then and then dash off fiercely. Each time, they had to adjust the car’s speed, but true to his reputation, the famed dog never lost the enemy’s trail, and the bizarre pursuit vehicle advanced northward through the towns lying silent in the dead of night. When Akechi had mentioned on the phone earlier that a black thread-like thing had entangled itself around Endō’s body and wouldn’t let go, this was precisely what he had meant. It had now become clear that his words were not mere threats or ghost stories.

City Jungle The pursuit car led by the famed dog Sherlock ran through the desolate towns Endō had passed through, never once straying off course, as if drawn by what Akechi had called the "black thread." And when they soon approached the moat near Kudan, Akechi’s sharp eyes immediately spotted an unusual object on the road ahead.

“Oh, what’s that.” “Stop the car.” Startled by the voice，Inspector Tsunekawa tightened Sherlock’s leash． The driver stepped on the brake． “Do you have a flashlight?” When he asked the detective riding with them，fortunately，one had prepared it． Akechi borrowed the flashlight and got out of the car． “Just as I thought．” “Inspector Tsunekawa，the bastard tried opening the lid of the doll crate around here．” “And when he realized he’d been completely fooled，he flew into a rage，didn’t he？”

Akechi gradually walked ahead while illuminating the road with his flashlight. Beneath the moving beam, a mannequin’s head, hands, and legs appeared one after another before vanishing. This was the doll Endō had thrown from the vehicle earlier. It wasn’t Mrs. Fumiyo. Even a beast wouldn’t have been reckless enough to subject a real person to such treatment in the middle of the road. “Hahaha! I can just see how furious that bastard must’ve been when he realized his precious prize was a mannequin.” “What do you think of this cruelty?” “Torn into eight pieces.” “Good thing it was a doll.”

Akechi finished his preliminary inspection and returned to the car. “But once that bastard discovered the truth here, would he have meekly retreated home?” “Could he have turned back toward your house?”

Inspector Tsunekawa in the driver’s seat muttered uneasily. “It’s alright,” “I gave them a proper scare over the phone.” “Yakko-san fled in such a panic—he thought the police would arrive any moment.” “He hasn’t the vigor to come back now.” “And just now, I checked as a precaution—the creosote’s black thread shows no stagnation whatsoever.” “Had he turned back, the car would’ve had to reverse or at least stop once, but there’s not a trace of that.”

“Mr. Akechi, you’ve given up… Alright, then let’s proceed.” Once again, the dog and the car began to move.

The black thread turned right from that area, avoiding the tram line as it passed by Shinobazu Pond in Ueno Park, and finally emerged onto Asakusa Park's back street. It then swung around in a full circle and reached the entrance to Nitenmon Gate, but upon arriving there, Sherlock abruptly stopped. After sniffing around the ground for a moment, he suddenly began retracing their original path. "Oh, Endō's car must have turned back here." "Stop here for a moment." "There's something suspicious about this area."

When the car stopped, Akechi took the flashlight in hand, stepped onto the ground, and began investigating the area. “Look here—there’s a black puddle formed here.” “The creosote had been dripping continuously in this exact spot.” “That means his car stopped here.” “Since it turned back afterward, he must have gotten out alone right here.” “Either way, it’s worth checking.”

Following Akechi’s instructions, they all got out of the car, but when they thought about it, wasn’t this a remarkably vague search? Inside Nitenmon Gate were various features. There was a Kannon Hall. There was a five-story pagoda. There was a park, a pond, and a wooded area. Then there were the aquarium, Hanayashiki, and the glamorous movie district.

“Asakusa Park… I hadn’t expected that.” “You don’t suppose Yakko-san’s holed up in Asakusa Park, do you?” “In such a lively place…”

Inspector Tsunekawa said, sounding perplexed. “Well, it’s not necessarily so. In all of Tokyo, you could say there’s no better hiding place for criminals than this park. This place is an urban jungle. All kinds of Japanese and Western buildings are lined up in a jumbled mess. There’s a vast crowd of street stalls. Hidden alleys are everywhere. On top of that, there are incessant crowds. All of these together form a veritable jungle for criminals to hide in. If that bastard chose this park as his hiding place, I can’t help but admire the ingenuity. The Human Leopard and the urban jungle—what a masterful pairing, don’t you think?”

Akechi said admiringly.

“But if that’s the case, this guy’s going to be one hell of a headache.” “This is way too much for such a small team to handle.” “Even if we mobilized every officer in the precinct, it still wouldn’t be enough.” “But let’s investigate anyway.” “Since it’s such a conspicuous time late at night, someone might have spotted him.”

Of course, the performances had ended and most of the night stall vendors had gone home, leaving no trace of the evening’s bright liveliness; yet here and there in the dead of night drifted black figures of shrine visitors and hyakudo mairi pilgrims—and at the spot where one entered Nitenmon Gate stood a fortune-teller’s tent, now about to begin business, solitary and forsaken.

On the paving stones of Nitenmon Gate, a single filthy crawling beggar—targeting night pilgrims—still had set up shop.

“Ah, if I ask this guy, he might remember something.” Akechi muttered to himself as he approached the beggar. Fortunately, he had not removed Endō’s disguise and had not yet washed off the makeup, so questioning did not require much effort. “Hey, you—about thirty minutes ago, did a man like this pass through here? In other words, someone who looks exactly like me.”

When Akechi stood blocking his path to question him, the crawling beggar abruptly raised his head and stared at this sudden interrogator. What a horrific cripple he was. His legs were utterly useless; he wore what resembled straw sandals on his hands, and his entire face festered with suppurating wounds so grotesque that eyes and nose were nearly indistinguishable. When that visage suddenly peered out from beneath a tattered pot-shaped hat, Akechi involuntarily averted his gaze, deeply regretting having addressed him.

“Ah! A man who looked just like you, sir! He passed by! Went by! That way! That way he went!” The beggar pointed toward Kannon Hall with his straw-sandaled hand as he spoke in slurred tones. “Is that true?” “No mistake about it?” “Yeah, it’s true.” “He looked just like you, sir.” Even through the beggar’s dulled eyes, Akechi’s striking disguise could not have gone unrecognized. If the man had been its exact duplicate, there could be no error. After all, no one but that bastard could possess such a horrifying visage.

The group walked toward Kannon Hall with Akechi leading the way. Akechi rounded up the vagrants loitering about and began questioning them one after another. Inspector Tsunekawa stopped at the police box before the hall and interrogated the officer stationed there. Yet no one provided a clear answer. Unlike the cramped passageway of Nitenmon Gate, this broad space with its sparse electric lights made such lack of information almost expected.

For a while, a thorough search was conducted from around the main hall to the park pond, but of course, there was no prey. “We have no choice but to withdraw for tonight.” “As the police force, you’ll mobilize as many officers as possible and surround Asakusa Park itself, right?” “Even if you do that, I doubt this leopard hunt in such a tangled jungle will go smoothly.” “I’ll do what I can as a private detective.”

“Right, I’ll make the arrangements immediately.” “I might have something to report to you before dawn.” “We’ve got plenty of men who know every secret of this jungle.” “But even just confirming the criminal entered Asakusa Park thanks to you is no small achievement.”

Akechi and Inspector Tsunekawa turned back toward Nitenmon Gate with the two detectives, exchanging such words. On the paving stones there, the same crawling beggar as before was still tenaciously keeping his shop open. Akechi suddenly noticed, fished out some coins from his pocket, tossed them into the alms bowl in front of him, and walked on.

“Sir! Sir!”

When he stopped in surprise and turned around, the crawling beggar was calling out to stop him.

“Sir! You dropped something.” “Here, here.” On the ground indicated by the straw-sandaled hand lay a folded envelope.

“Are you saying I dropped it?”

Akechi looked perplexed as he took two or three steps back and picked up the envelope. “Ah, you there! You just dropped it.” “You dropped it now.” The beggar was grinning an ingratiating smile with his decomposed face. He held the envelope up to the ceiling light of the gate and saw “Mr. Akechi Kogorō” written on the front. It was undoubtedly Akechi’s. But he had no memory of putting such a letter in his pocket. “Hey, Inspector Tsunekawa—we might’ve just passed that bastard in the park.”

“Huh? You mean that guy—the Human Leopard?” “Yeah, I can’t help but feel that way.” “Anyway, this light’s too dim. Let’s get back to the car.” “We should examine this envelope properly.” Akechi hurried straight to the police car waiting on the tram line ahead.

In front of the bright headlights, the four of them huddled together to examine the letter. The envelope was cheap thin kraft paper. There was no sender’s name on the back, and its seal remained broken. Akechi hastily extracted the contents. On rough hanshi-sized paper lay a pencil-scrawled message reading as follows: "Akechi, you truly live up to your reputation as the great detective. My prey turned out to be a mannequin. And you even knew I’d come here. How razor-sharp of you. Brrrr—oh how terrifying. But tell me, Detective—I’d give anything to see your face reading this letter. Hilarious. When exactly did someone slip this into your pocket? Any clue? Seems you still need more training, Detective. Till we meet again."

“Hmm, I’m astonished.” “So that Human Leopard bastard was walking right before our eyes in the darkness of that park.” “And then he threw this into your pocket and left, huh?”

Inspector Tsunekawa exclaimed in astonishment. Akechi was deep in thought about something.

That couldn’t be right. Was I truly so incompetent that I’d let an enemy slip away right before my eyes? Moreover, to have that bastard thrust his hand into my pocket—it was an insult unlike any I’d ever experienced. But I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. My nerves should have been alert throughout my entire body. Having something put into my pocket unnoticed—that was impossible for me. “Wait a second—I think I’m onto something!”

Akechi’s eyes gleamed fiercely with feverish excitement. “There’s some trick here.” “There’s a sleight-of-hand at play… Yes!” “That’s absolutely it.” “Inspector Tsunekawa—I’ve committed a grave oversight.” “But we might still catch up.” “That’s the one.” “We must apprehend that crawling beggar immediately!”

Having said that abruptly, he dashed off like a fleeing rabbit. The three others followed after him.

They dashed straight to Niten Gate, but just as feared, there was no trace of the beggar there anymore. Just as he had suspected. Under the guise of reporting lost property, the bastard himself had thrown the envelope along the path Akechi had taken. Who else would pull such a stunt? That man was none other than the Human Leopard in disguise. To masquerade as a crippled beggar and hide within Asakusa’s crowds—what an audacious scheme!

People walked around the vicinity of the gate, searching for the beggar, but nowhere could they find any trace of him. Akechi stuck his head into the street fortune-teller’s tent and was making inquiries.

“You come here every night, don’t you? Do you know the crippled beggar under Niten Gate—the one with straw sandals on his hands? Does he usually stay there?”

The tent was tightly enclosed on all sides, with only a small window at the front through which customers’ faces could barely be seen. From that window peered a white-bearded old man wearing large Lloyd glasses, clutching a magnifying glass in one hand.

“Huh? A crippled beggar, you say?” “I’m afraid I don’t know.” “I haven’t seen any beggar like that around here.”

“But I just saw him now.” “He’s wanted by the authorities.” “He slipped away in that brief moment.” “I wonder if such a beggar ran past your shop?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.” “I had a customer until just now.” “I was so absorbed in reading their face.” “I see. No—thank you.”

With that as their final lead, Akechi and his team had no choice but to abandon their search for the time being and withdraw. Inspector Tsunekawa was hurrying back to the Metropolitan Police Department to arrange for Asakusa Park’s encirclement. The group hurried back toward the automobiles.

“Heh heh heh… They must’ve given up by now—finally gone home.”

Inside the fortune-telling tent, the white-bearded fortune-teller muttered a strange soliloquy. Then, in response to that voice, a figure came crawling out from under the table-like stand with a rustling sound. It was the crippled beggar. The beggar was no cripple at all. He abruptly sprang up to his full height and stood shoulder to shoulder with the old fortune-teller. And he tore off the rubber mask covered in boils that had been plastered across his entire face. What appeared beneath the mask was the unmistakable, terrifying visage of the Human Leopard.

“I know Akechi, but he’s never seen my face.” “I really pulled one over on him!” 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 disguised as a crippled beggar, the old man as a street fortune-teller—and to think they hid themselves within the jungle of crowds while coordinating with one another—what an outlandish deception this was!

“But we’ve kept up this disguise for a long time now—we’ll have to end it tonight.” “That sharp man will surely realize our secret before the car has gone halfway down the road.” “Hmph. But it’s too late now.” The Human Leopard spat out his words and let out a big yawn. “Father, you really worked hard today.” “Yeah, from Azabu to Shibaura, Shibaura to Asakusa… Ah, it’s nothing at all.” “Fighting against the world is just so thrilling for me, you see.”

And so, this parent and child—terrifying beyond measure—exchanged glances and grinned eerily, ominously at each other.

The Park's Uncanny Mystery

The beast in human form had fled into the urban jungle—a refuge most fitting for him. Mountains, ponds, woods—and alongside them, buildings large and small of every shape and angle stood jumbled in chaotic sprawl across avenues, alleys, and backstreets... In all of Tokyo, could there exist a maze as masterfully crafted as Asakusa Park? Moreover, year-round, enormous crowds ceaselessly swarmed and bustled about there. Searching for the criminal who had slipped into that artificial jungle must have been even more difficult than searching for a silver coin fallen into a brazier.

The following early morning, a mixed plainclothes team composed of the Metropolitan Police Department and local police stations was formed. And the detectives, having transformed their appearances in various ways, began narrowing their search net from all sides of the park, leaving no residence, shop, or eatery unchecked, almost as if combing through with a fine-tooth comb. The vagrants were driven out, and with thoroughness extending from the ceiling to beneath the floors of Senso-ji’s main hall—not to mention the five-storied pagoda—even inspecting the interior of Nio Gate’s large lanterns, two days passed without any results.

On the second day, strange posters—conceived by Inspector Tsunekawa—were plastered across every street corner of Asakusa’s neighborhoods. At the center of each poster was printed an artist-rendered portrait of Endō, the Human Leopard, twice his actual size. Below it ran text in plain language with phonetic guides: “This depicts Endō, the murderer causing recent disturbances. Should you encounter this individual, immediately notify your nearest police box.” The portrait had been drawn by a Western-style painter—one who had witnessed the Human Leopard’s visage during the Daito Theater incident—at the urging of Mr. and Mrs. Akechi. Though based on memory alone, it vividly captured the beast-man’s grotesquely distinctive features.

This bold poster tactic by the police drew crowds at every street corner. Eyes wide with terror were fixed on the grotesque portrait. Terrifying rumors about the Human Leopard spread among the public, spiraling out of control.

“Whoa! This guy’s eyes glow bright blue even in pitch darkness!” “Fangs! He’s got actual fangs!” “Damn right! Those teeth could chomp through dogs—hell, anything!” “Not dogs! Human women—he devours human women!” “Disgusting… With filth like this lurking here, our park’ll turn into a ghost town.”

“I’ve seen this guy before.” “You know, during that incident at Daito Theater.” “He looks exactly like this picture.” “No—his face wasn’t this calm.” “When this guy stood right in the middle of the revue stage, glaring at the audience, baring these fangs, and let out a roar—honestly, there was just no surviving that, I tell you.”

“Oh? You saw that?” “I’ve heard the stories too—isn’t it true Ranko Egawa was butchered on stage?” “Forget that old news! I ran into this creep just last night!”

“Where?” “Where? Where?” “It was the large ginkgo tree behind the temple hall, you know.” “I was lyin’ under that tree when some bastard went and stomped on my head.” “When I jumped up in surprise, wasn’t there a pitch-black thing smoothly and swiftly climbing up that large ginkgo tree, just like a damn cat?” “When I yelled ‘Hey!’ at him, that bastard glared down at me from up in the tree.” “Was his face like this?” “Yes. Those bright blue eyes were glowing like stars. I didn’t even look back—just ran for my life.” “Those bright blue eyes were glowing like stars.” “I didn’t even look back—just ran for my life.”

“Why don’t you just tell the cop?” “I told them.” “I told them. But when the cop went to check the ginkgo tree, there was nothing left anymore.”

Vagrants, newsboys, middle schoolers, youth group members, elderly shopkeepers, and passing company employees all came together to discuss the terrifying poster's subject. In barbershops, bathhouses, movie theater seats—wherever people gathered—the talk was of the "Human Leopard." Various ghost stories were concocted, growing more elaborate as they spread.

There was also a ghost story about a certain landlady who, upon opening the door to a communal toilet, found the Human Leopard with bright blue eyes crouching inside.

There was also a ghost story that in the dead of night, from atop the railing of Nio Gate, the Human Leopard had been seen resting his cheek on his hand like Ishikawa Goemon as he gazed down at Nakamise Street. It was said that when a young geisha—who made nightly pilgrimages to Kannon—passed through Nio Gate with a friend, one of them happened to look up at the gate's ceiling. There, atop one of the large votive lanterns, something like a human head had peered out abruptly like a criminal's displayed head, dimly visible in Nakamise's distant lights.

When one of them stopped and looked up at the ceiling, the other joined in looking that way—only to see what was unmistakably a human head, its eyes burning phosphorescent blue like foxfire. Their throats tightened and legs went numb as they nearly fainted on the spot. With immense effort, they crept away on tiptoe from beneath the gate—then suddenly shrieked and bolted toward Nakamise Street, or so the tale went.

The police had searched even inside the large votive lanterns of Nio Gate for these reasons. Whether he had escaped during that time or whether it had all been a hallucination from the start, when they checked, the lantern was naturally empty.

Ghost stories bred more ghost stories, and the pleasure district swiftly transformed into an alley of terror. By day it was one thing, but come nightfall, once you stepped away from the movie district, that vast park had become so desolate—utterly devoid of human presence, like a graveyard—that Asakusa Park might as well have been occupied not by sightseers now, but by plainclothes detectives, youth group members, and curious onlookers.

The morning after the posters were put up, those intersections were once again swarmed with a sea of people—though for an entirely different reason. The reason was that, in a truly bizarre turn of events, the portraits on the posters had been completely altered overnight.

“That’s strange. Who could’ve pulled such a prank?” “The same thing’s been pasted on that poster over there too.”

“Instead of the Human Leopard, this time it’s some ridiculously handsome guy.” “This face looks familiar somewhere.” Words carrying that meaning were being exchanged throughout the crowd gathered there. Over the Human Leopard’s portrait, a different sheet had been pasted—one bearing a hand-drawn image of a remarkably handsome man’s face. Every poster had been altered to show this same face. Without doubt, someone had walked about meticulously through the night, pasting this identical portrait onto each and every poster in existence.

“Ah, got it now! This portrait—that’s it! It’s the face of the Human Leopard’s enemy!”

Eventually, someone in the crowd noticed it.

“Who’s this ‘enemy’?” “You know who it is, don’t you? That’s Akechi Kogorō. You know they say the Human Leopard had a terrible time because of Akechi!” “Yeah, now that you mention it, that’s Akechi-san. It looks just like Akechi-san.”

Indeed, that was unmistakably a portrait of Akechi Kogorō. A beardless, gaunt face; tousled hair; distinctive thick eyebrows—it was a masterfully crafted caricature of the famous detective. People had become familiar with this face through newspaper photographs. “Hey man, this is absurd.” “Take a look at the text below.” “So that means Akechi Kogorō’s the wanted murderous fiend now.” “That’s terrible!” “Who in the world would do such a thing?”

“It’s not the police, right?”

“It might be the work of someone who holds a grudge against Mr. Akechi.”

“If we’re talking about someone with a grudge, well, that would be the Human Leopard.” When someone said that, the black mountain of people fell utterly silent. The deduction was too horrifying—and yet too precise. In the dead of night when all slept, that monster with eyes glowing an icy blue had wandered like a dark wind, muttering curses as he pasted up portraits of his sworn enemy Akechi Kogorō—this indescribably eerie vision chilled the crowd to their very bones.

After all, he had been hiding in some corner of Asakusa Park. The vain hope that he might have fled to another area instead had backfired. Local residents began loudly decrying the police’s incompetence. Detectives and youth group members resumed their door-to-door visits once more. Yet that day too ended without yielding any significant results.

Leopard Bandit

It was the dead of night.

The owner of Ōyama Barbershop in Senzoku-chō—colloquially known as the "Daring Barber"—had come to the deserted Asakusa Park for exercise, bringing along his beloved Tosa dog. His wife had tried desperately to stop him, warning of danger, but he was after all the barber who bore the nickname “the Daring”—he refused to listen. If I cowered over rumors of the Human Leopard, my precious Tosa dog would grow sick from lack of exercise. Besides, I’ve had awful stomach troubles these past few days. No matter what anyone said, I was going out tonight. And so, striking a pose like Saigō-san’s statue, he tugged at the thick leash resembling horse reins and marched into the park’s plaza.

“Huh, this is surprising.” “Not a single one of ’em here!” After walking from around the statue of Danjuro to the edge of the pond, the master muttered in an impressed manner. On ordinary nights, once the movie theaters let out, the dog owners of Asakusa would arrive for their walks, proudly shouldering leashes with red or purple tassels and leading their ferocious Japanese and Western breeds—but tonight, not even a single dog’s shadow was to be seen.

“What a bunch of spineless bastards! Kumakō.” Since none of his familiar faces were to be seen, he had no choice but to talk to his beloved dog. The Tosa dog called Kumakō had a physique truly befitting that name. “But this place is nice and quiet.”

It was just a little too quiet. The movie district lay utterly lifeless compared to its daytime bustle, like Roman ruins frozen in death, while eateries and tea shops had all shut their large doors and fallen as silent as abandoned houses. Save for the trees around the pond rustling in the night wind as though it had just remembered to blow, there was no sound at all. Usually, on the stone-paved path before the main hall, the clatter of geta would continue unabated throughout the night; yet even those devout visitors appeared to have been cowed by the Human Leopard.

Ōyama the barber shop owner, still dressed like Saigō-san, plodded along through the deserted grounds. Every bench they passed was empty. Even the vagrants valued their lives. Could this really be Asakusa Park? I might have gotten confused and wandered into some outlandish place. Or could it be that I was having a bad dream right now? He was suddenly seized by such doubt. After circling the pond and passing through a narrow path between the trees, a circular open space spread out before his eyes. A single night light dimly illuminated the entire scene as if it were a hazy moonlit night.

The trees on the far side blended into the darkness until they were nearly indistinguishable, but among them moved a figure darting about. Looking closer, he saw the person was leading dogs—two of them, it seemed. “Well now, isn’t this something! Look here—your friend’s come!” “Kumakō, look!” “Your friend’s here!” The master tried to approach them. He wanted to see the face of this brave dog lover and exchange a word. But for some reason, Kumakō shrank back and refused to budge.

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” When he turned to look, his beloved dog stood like a wolf—hackles raised, upper lip curled into a terrifying snarl, teeth bared, a sound like distant thunder rumbling deep in its throat. It was truly strange. For old Kumakō to behave this way was rare indeed. Dragged backward by the powerful dog, the master gradually retreated into the cover of the trees while keeping his eyes fixed on the figure ahead.

The strange figure leading two dogs emerged from the shade of the trees and passed from right to left under the dim glow of the night light. It was a gaunt old man wearing a black stand-collar coat. His snow-white hair and bushy beard hung down to his chest. The master had never before encountered such an odd-looking elder. The old man walked steadily forward without glancing around. An air of madness clung about him, as if he were not of this world. Strangely, neither dog wore a leash. The animals followed behind him as he moved, pulled along like marionettes on invisible strings.

But what a large dog. And that supple gait—it wasn't a dog at all, but more like a cat! As he stared, he gradually realized the strange creature's entire body was covered in jet-black spots. It couldn't be a dog... yet a cat that enormous couldn't possibly exist. Then... just what was that thing... The creature's true nature became unmistakable with every passing moment—vivid spots, thick powerful limbs, a sinuous living tail, eyes glowing deep blue. It was a leopard. The leopard roamed freely through the night.

But Ōyama the master couldn't immediately accept this utterly absurd spectacle. An old man leading a wild beast through the park... Were his eyes deceiving him? Or was he trapped in some nightmare? Yet when he suddenly noticed—the creature trailing behind the leopard was an even more astonishing monster. What proved truly bizarre was that this being wore Western clothes. Pitch-black Western clothes. Its hind legs stretched twice as long as its forelegs, bending opposite to normal animals. And unbelievably—those feet wore shoes! In size and shape it seemed human-like, but for a human to crawl alongside a leopard—what madness was this?

While the master stood there nearly paralyzed, unable to move, drenched in sweat, the terrifying procession finished crossing the vacant lot and disappeared into the thicket on the left. But at that moment, when the last monster in Western clothes suddenly turned its face toward him—ah, the horror of that face—the master could never forget it for the rest of his life. That thing was undoubtedly the Human Leopard. It was a perfect match for the sketch on the wanted poster. His perfectly round eyes burned with a phosphorescent glow even more fiercely than those of a real leopard. Beneath those terrifying eyes, his crimson mouth was pulled taut into a crescent shape, baring white fangs as he grinned—as if something amused him.

All the while, Kumakō had been growling with a terrifying expression, but when the four-legged beast in Western clothes had barely begun to hide in the bushes, he could endure no longer. With a fierce roar, he suddenly tore free from his master’s grip and went charging after the monster. Like a bouncing ball, he dashed across the vacant lot in an instant and vanished into the thicket beyond. But the barber master couldn’t afford to worry about his beloved dog. It was a matter of his own life. He ran frantically in the opposite direction. He ran and ran, tumbling 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 screaming like a madman.

The word "leopard" provoked an uncanny reaction from the police officer. When they urgently demanded details, it indeed concerned the appearance of the "Human Leopard." No—this was a bizarre incident surpassing even the "Human Leopard." The matter was immediately reported by telephone to headquarters. Soon after, a squad of officers armed with pistols rushed to the scene. Yet however swiftly they mobilized, considerable time had elapsed during these procedures. By the time the formidable police contingent arrived and combed every corner of the expansive park, not even a shadow resembling their target remained visible.

However, proof that the barber’s account was no dream or hallucination lay in the discovery of his beloved dog Kumakō’s gruesomely mangled corpse—now resembling crimson cloth scraps—lying in a grove not far from where he had witnessed the beast. Even if we called it an urban jungle, the notion of a tropical leopard casually strolling through Tokyo’s Asakusa Park seemed utterly preposterous. While the Human Leopard was one matter, the real leopard must have been nothing more than a hallucination of that timid barber despite his rugged appearance. The police officers and everyone who had heard these rumors all thought this way.

However, the very next day, it was proven that this phantom leopard was none other than a bona fide wild beast. That morning, the pale-faced manager of Asakusa’s famous Hanayashiki appeared at the police station. And he reported that the park’s prized leopardess had vanished from its cage during the previous night. Moreover, it was absolutely not that the animal itself had broken out of the cage, but rather that there were signs something had procured a duplicate key and opened the cage door.

The villain who opened the cage was none other than the white-haired, white-bearded old man—in other words, the "Human Leopard". It was undoubtedly Endō’s father. But for what possible purpose could he have committed such a reckless act? Was it simply to release a wild beast into the streets for no reason, terrorize citizens, and shout in triumph? Or was there some deeper motive at play? Surely it couldn’t be due to some absurd motive like the Human Leopard wanting a friend.

Tiger Man

The panic among Asakusa’s residents surpassed all imagining—not only was the "Human Leopard" terrorizing them, but now an actual wild beast roamed free. Movie theaters, revues, eateries, street stalls—all showed such devastation they verged on shutting down. At night especially, the whole park became a desolate wasteland.

However, such was the allure of Asakusa Park. Only during daylight hours did workers continue to come. In the vastness of Tokyo, not only were there a significant number of people who headed to the park completely unaware of these rumors, but reckless onlookers who had gathered from nowhere also formed massive swarms, creating a peculiar kind of “gloomy bustle” that pervaded the entire park. Threading through the crowd, workers in quilted work clothes and uniformed youth group members were rushing about in confusion.

Now, on the afternoon two days after that midnight incident, Akechi Kogorō and his new wife, Mrs. Akechi, walked side by side through the park's "gloomy bustle." Of course, they were not exposing their true faces. It was unthinkable that Mrs. Akechi—the very one being targeted as prey by the Human Leopard—would casually stroll into what amounted to that fiend's lair with her actual features uncovered.

The man and woman appeared to be wandering aimlessly among the onlookers. The man wore a lightly soiled workman-style uniform, a bird-hunting cap blackened with machine oil pulled low over his brow, wooden-soled sandals as part of his disguise, large Lloyd glasses, and sported a thick, imposing black mustache—his entire face smeared with machine oil like an apprentice’s.

The woman had her hair styled in a kushimaki bun, a faded hand towel wrapped around her head, wearing what resembled an indigo-patterned hanten coat with her white yumoji undergarment fully exposed. Moreover, on her feet she sported men’s long socks paired with rubber-soled tabi—a daring ensemble that gave the pair the appearance of a factory worker and his 'yoi-tomake' companion.

That filthy laborer was none other than the renowned detective Akechi Kogorō, and the “Yoi-tomake” was none other than Mrs. Akechi. Many had argued that leaving Mrs. Akechi at the detective agency would leave her vulnerable to a Human Leopard attack at any moment, and that she should be evacuated to a safe location—but as Ranko Egawa’s case made clear, with that monster on the loose, evacuation provided no true refuge. Rather than that, it was Mrs. Akechi’s gallant resolve—that following her husband Akechi wherever he went to receive his protection would be safest of all, and that doing so would also allow her to assist in detective work—to which Akechi agreed, thus bringing about their current arrangement.

As readers who had read *The Vampire* knew, Mrs. Akechi had once been a detective herself; though her face was beautiful and her demeanor gentle, she was by no means a weak person who would become a hindrance to Akechi. Rather, she may well have been the indispensable assistant without whom the great detective could not have managed. These two disguised individuals were walking among the flow of onlookers, but they were certainly not onlookers themselves. They were entrusted with the mission of hunting down the serial killer. To this was added an accumulation of personal grudges. As Akechi, he was in a position where he could not help but exert every last ounce of his strength to track down the demonic Human Leopard.

From beneath their hunting caps and headscarves, their eyes never rested for a single moment. They subjected each house lining both sides of the street and every passerby to sharp detective-like scrutiny. The two were keen hunting dogs tracking a beast's scent through the jungle. Not even the slightest detail could escape their notice.

In the middle of Rokku’s movie district lay a narrow, dimly lit alleyway, sandwiched between concrete movie theaters like the floor of a valley. No matter how bustling the day, those who used this gloomy alleyway were extremely rare. The valley floor was eerily quiet. Except for the occasional customers heading to the underground café midway along it and staff members entering or exiting through the movie theater’s back door opening onto the narrow path, there was almost no foot traffic to speak of.

The laborer and "Yoi-tomake" Akechi couple casually entered the alleyway. There was no particular meaning to it. They merely intended to pass through there and take a shortcut to the back alley. However, the moment they stepped into the valley floor, they discovered something that made them gasp.

There, a giant tiger was ambling upright on its hind legs! But a real wild beast couldn’t just materialize so casually. Of course, it wasn’t real. Clad in a tiger-striped shirt with an oversized papier-mâché tiger head swallowing his entire skull, shoulders draped with a red-and-white advertisement flag, hands clutching sheaves of crimson flyers—it was merely a billposter decked in grotesque regalia.

Reading the characters on the flag revealed "Z Circus Troupe." There must be a circus being held somewhere—this was surely a billposter distributing its advertisements around town. Still, a tiger disguise struck him as peculiar. Perhaps the Z Circus Troupe kept tigers as part of their show and used them as their main attraction? Akechi had relaxed his guard somewhat with this reasoning, yet he couldn’t shake off an uneasy premonition lurking in some corner of his mind.

Tiger Man—this was what one might call a Tiger Man. Though one might dismiss it as coincidental resemblance when paired with the "Human Leopard," didn’t it carry an unnervingly deliberate significance? And why would that fellow wear such an absurd papier-mâché tiger head? Only the eye holes appeared cut out—wasn’t his entire face otherwise completely concealed? Couldn’t this be suspected as a cunning ploy to hide his visage? Could it have been that lurking beneath that ludicrous tiger mask lay none other than the ghastly countenance of the Human Leopard they had been hunting so relentlessly?

The other party had been plodding along near the opposite exit of the alleyway, but when Akechi and his group rounded the corner and came into view, he felt as though the man had turned around and was staring fixedly at them. From then on, for some reason, he slowed his pace even more, and with each step, he seemed to furtively steal glances in their direction. Isn’t it strange that a mere billposter would show such interest in a worker and 'Yoi-tomake'? It’s that fiend. Could it be that he had already discerned their true identities and was now inside that papier-mâché mask, sneering at them with phosphorescent eyes aglow?

He could not rest without confirming it. If this wild conjecture proved correct—if he could capture the fiend "Human Leopard" so effortlessly—even the renowned detective, who prided himself on his composure, could not help but feel his heart race.

Akechi quickened his pace and approached the Tiger Man billposter. Strangely enough, Tiger Man began acting as though luring Akechi, turning his tiger head back again and again as he rounded into the back alley.

Akechi reached the corner in one bound. Determined not to let him escape, he charged into the back alley—only to find Tiger Man standing there dimly visible. “Hey, you there—would you mind taking off that tiger mask and showing me your face?” Akechi approached the billposter and abruptly called out. The man disguised as a tiger seemed not to understand the meaning for a moment and remained silent, but finally,

“Hehehe, are you saying you want to see my face?” While letting out an obsequious laugh, he effortlessly lifted up the papier-mâché mask and showed his face. Was the face that appeared from beneath that of the terrifying “Human Leopard”?

No, no—that was not the case. Akechi broke into a cold sweat from the shame of his mistaken assumption. Far from being terrifying, his face was in fact absurdly comical. Beneath a jet-black chestnut-burr haircut lay a bony, swarthy face that looked about fifty years old, with thick black eyebrows reminiscent of Saigō Takamori’s portrait. Below the nose stretched an impressively luxuriant sweeping *hachi* mustache—the kind befitting a general—jutting grandly upward like two great swords nearly reaching his ears.

“Ah, my apologies, my apologies. I mistook you for someone else.” “That’s enough now. Please put that back on and get back to work.” As Akechi apologized and turned to leave, the billposter laughed obsequiously again—“hehehe”—and held out a flyer. “Please take one,” he said, offering an advertisement for the Z Circus Troupe. Akechi absentmindedly accepted it, but when he suddenly noticed, there was something scribbled in pencil on the back of the lithographed advertisement. Huh, that’s odd. He flipped it over, muttering, "Such a thing on a brand-new flyer…" and the moment he fixed his eyes on the scribble, Akechi’s expression visibly tensed.

Akechi-kun, is Fumiyo-san all right? Once I set my mind to something, I’m the type to carry it through to the end. The handwriting was familiar—indeed, the Tiger Man and the Human Leopard were connected after all. It was yet another of the Human Leopard’s bizarre methods of communication.

“Hey, you—surely you didn’t write this?” Under Akechi’s sharp glare, Tiger Man fidgeted nervously and let out another of his obsequious laughs. “Hehehe, it wasn’t me.” “A stranger just now made this request of me.” “He told me to wait in that alley because someone of such-and-such appearance would come by soon, and I should hand it to them. Then he wrote something on the back of the flyer with a pencil and left.”

“What did he look like?” Akechi snapped back. “He was a fine gentleman.” “A gentleman in Western clothes, around thirty…” “What about his face?” “You must remember his face, right?” “Hehehe, I’m afraid that isn’t very clear.” “That gentleman was odd.” “He seemed not to want me to see his face—whenever we were face-to-face, he’d always press a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.” The billposter appeared to be a dim-witted man, incongruous with his imposing general-like mustache. He must have been somewhat coerced into it and gladly carried out his role.

“Tsk, it seems you’re unaware of the rumors about the Human Leopard.” “Huh? The Human Leopard?!”

Tiger Man let out a shocked cry. Even a dim-witted person would surely know the name of that terrifying beast-man. “That’s right,” Akechi spat out. “The man who commissioned you—that was the Human Leopard, you see.” “Which way did he turn?” “This way.” The billposter fidgeted nervously as he pointed down the long, straight street ahead. “He was in a hurry.” “Yes, he turned the corner as if running.” “So, that guy was the rumored Human Leopard, huh? Brrr… Ah, how terrifying.”

“He might have had a car waiting around there.” “Yes, that might be the case.” “That’s about it.” “But even without a car, plenty of time’s passed already, you know.” “No reason they’d be dawdling around here, you know.” “Hehehe, well, ’scuse me then.” Tiger Man muttered these words in an utterly dull tone, then snugly readjusted the tiger head over his own and lumbered away.

Akechi Kogorō had to rapidly consider his next course of action. But even as he considered this, he suddenly felt an emptiness behind him. A creeping chill crept up his spine—a sense of void. When he realized what this implied, he involuntarily gasped and whirled around. Then—ah—the person who should have been behind him was nowhere to be seen. “Give it up!” Mrs. Fumiyo had vanished from the ravine’s hidden passage as though evaporated.

“Something must have happened.” Akechi instantly intuited it. Otherwise, there was no reason Mrs. Fumiyo would have vanished without warning from his field of vision. On the back of the red flyer was written, “Is Fumiyo all right?” But at the very moment Akechi read those words, Mrs. Fumiyo was already no longer “all right.” Even so—by what means on earth could that have been carried out in the midst of a bustling daytime crowd?

“Human Leopard” Even if he were an audacious magician, could this really have been possible?

Kuma When Akechi Kogorō, chasing after the billposter, turned from the valley’s hidden passage into the back street—“Give it up!”— Mrs. Fumiyo, lagging one step behind, was walking through the midpoint of the hidden passage. At the path’s edge stood a low iron railing, from which a narrow concrete staircase descended into the building’s basement like a gloomy cavernous hole—the entrance to an underground café partitioned off in the movie theater’s basement. Just as Mrs. Fumiyo passed by that railing, a black figure darted out from the cavernous stairway and suddenly lunged at her from behind.

Mrs. Fumiyo was seen raising both hands. But she had no time to make a sound. The man in the black happi coat and the "Give it up!" woman had merged into a single mass, standing motionless like grotesque living dolls. The man's hand reached from behind toward her mouth, where something resembling a white cloth scrap was pressed like a gag. Soon, the man effortlessly hoisted the limp Mrs. Fumiyo onto his back and strode into the bustling main street of the theater district with brazen audacity, his grotesque appearance drawing no restraint.

The man had the appearance of a laborer in a dirty happi coat. The torn brim of his tattered bowler hat hung down to the tip of his nose, and beneath it, a half-inch-long unkempt beard covered his entire face, black and bristling. That man, carrying the "Give it up!" woman who looked like his wife on his back, walked hurriedly through the crowd. Moreover, the woman on his back had lost consciousness and was completely limp. The woman’s hands swayed limply around the man’s chest. It was impossible for this not to catch the attention of passersby. Hundreds of faces turned their gaze in unison toward his retreating figure.

But the man paid no heed to such things and strode off resolutely. Before him stood a police box in the Rokku District, where a fair-skinned, handsome police officer stood guard. With remarkable wit, the man stopped directly before the officer and spoke up. “My damn wife’s had herself a fit... Can’t do nothin’ about it.” “Could you help me find a doctor somewhere?”

When the police officer heard this, he made a troubled face. “A doctor? Don’t you have a regular physician?” “Where’re you from?” “Oh, I’m from Mikawashima.” “Mikawashima? “Hmph. Is that so?” “So you’ve got no acquaintances here, eh?” “If it’s epilepsy, no need to fuss.” “Leave her be—she’ll come ’round.”

“But I want to get her treated somehow.” “In my position, I can’t just leave her alone, you see.” The man put on a slight show of indignation. “Alright then, go ahead and carry her to a pay clinic or something.” “You know where the pay clinic is, right?” “It’s behind Honganji Temple.”

The police officer did not engage further. And that was just as the man had planned. He hurried through the movie district with the woman still on his back and vanished without a trace.

When Mrs. Fumiyo awoke from her anesthetic-induced dream, she found herself sprawled in a slightly grimy room with reddish-brown tatami mats of indeterminate location. “Have you realized? Mrs. Akechi—I’ve finally got you!”

A bushy-bearded man in a happi coat loomed over her face and called out poisonously. “Hahahaha, seems your mind’s still not fully clear.” “Come on, time to wake up now.”

The man’s warm breath carrying a peculiar odor hung thick over her face. “Oh... Where am I? And who exactly are you...?”

Mrs. Fumiyo, startled, frantically tried to sit up as she shouted demandingly. “Me?”

Then, the man slowly answered, savoring her anguish. “I am someone you know well.” “Don’t you recognize this voice?” “We spoke in your study just days ago.” Mrs. Fumiyo turned pale, opened her eyes wide, and stared at the silent man’s face. “Hahaha! You mean the face is different?” “Then I’ll show you now.” “Here—this face.” “Surely you haven’t forgotten this face.”

The man roughly removed the kettle-shaped hat that had been hiding his eyes and began tearing off the unkempt beard that covered his entire face. “Ah, Endō…”

Mrs. Fumiyo let out a scream as she leapt away from beside the man.

“Do you understand now? It’s Endō. They say I have another name—the Human Leopard. You people came up with quite the clever title for me. Heh heh heh... Oh Mrs. Fumiyo—even if you try to flee, I won’t let you escape. And scream all you like—there are no neighbors here to hear you... It’s useless. How regrettable—you’ll simply have to resign yourself to fate.”

Though a grotesque beast, the Human Leopard spoke as if reciting theatrical lines while inching closer over his cowering prey. A beast-like bony black face; enormous eyes blazing blue; crimson lips; teeth pulsing with razor-sharp edges—these features gradually filled Mrs. Fumiyo’s terrified vision, looming closer in an immense close-up. In truth, there had been no time to attempt escape. But even so, defeating this peerlessly powerful monster lay beyond imagination. Most women would have become prey for the beastman while weeping and screaming.

But Mrs. Fumiyo did not allow that to happen.

It was a long, brutal struggle. Mrs. Fumiyo’s beautiful face was battered like a boxer’s, her kimono torn to shreds. Her ribs protruded with each labored breath; her throat parched dry, her tongue blackened like cinders. Even the Human Leopard glistened with greasy sweat across his face—such was the battle’s ferocity. Naturally, Mrs. Fumiyo endured torment near death. Yet she never yielded that final threshold. She retained just enough strength to hold that line. Even the demon—stunned by her tenacity—could only abandon infatuation, pivot to hatred, and turn to secondary measures.

“Heheheheh.”

From the demon’s blood-red, engorged mouth burst an off-key laugh, hysterically overexcited. “You bastard—so you want to die quickly?” “That’s exactly what I want too.” “I’ve got it all planned out.” “I’ve devised an exceptionally bizarre execution method.” “Heheheheh... Mrs. Fumiyo... Doesn’t that terrify you? Or will you reconsider becoming my honored guest?” “Hm? Can’t bring yourself to accept?”

“…………” “Heheheheh—you made a scary face and glared at me.” “But just you wait—that face will soon be tear-stained.” “You’d better not regret it when that time comes.”

The Human Leopard kept his face turned toward the collapsed Mrs. Fumiyo while grinning with eerie malice, sidled sideways toward the closet, and yanked open its sliding door with a clatter.

In the closet, a large wooden box could be seen. It was a sturdy box made of thick planks, like those used for shipping machinery. Endō opened its lid and grabbed something from inside.

Mrs. Fumiyo had complete faith in Akechi’s abilities. If her opponent was a demon, her husband was a superhuman. He would never be killed. He would definitely save me. Detective Akechi Kogorō made the impossible possible through unexpected means. She firmly believed that she would not lose her strength until the very end. However, hearing the Human Leopard’s eerie words and upon catching his smug, mocking laughter, she couldn’t help but feel a chill of fear. Just as a surgical patient stole glances with a pounding heart at the operating table and the shelf of scalpels, she couldn’t help but fix her eyes on the strange box inside the closet and the single item that had been taken from it.

What the Human Leopard dragged out from the box with a gesture like a magician’s was a horrifyingly bulky black object—limp and spine-chilling. At first, she couldn’t discern its true form in the dim closet, but as it was dragged inch by inch into the light, she realized the thing had a face. A pointed pitch-black face; glittering eyes; a gaping crimson mouth; large fangs jutting out; a thick shaggy black torso; four legs tipped with sharp claws.

Bear. The Human Leopard had grabbed the bear. However, given how limp and floppy it was, it couldn’t be alive. So was it a bear’s corpse? No—no, for a corpse, its stomach was far too flat. Was it a taxidermied pelt then? But there was something different about it compared to a pelt. If it were a pelt, there shouldn’t have been such a vivid impression of a living creature remaining. “Heheheheh, there’s no need to be afraid.” “It’s not going to bite you yet.”

The Human Leopard approached Mrs. Fumiyo while handling the bulky pelt. He said, “It’s not going to bite you yet.” Was this bear going to come back to life someday and devour her? There was no way such an absurd thing could happen. Though it hadn’t been meant in that way, upon later reflection, this casual remark had contained a truly hair-raising, terrifying implication.

“This is a bear costume.” “A person gets inside this, crawls on all fours, and acts like a bear.” “I’m not the one going in.” “Of course you’re the one who’ll wear this.” “And starting now, you’ll become a bear.” “You’ll fully transform into a terrifying ferocious beast.” “Until you die, you’ll never return to the human world again.”

The Human Leopard’s tone gradually softened. And in inverse proportion, the content of his words grew ever more terrifying. “Come now, be a good girl and change quietly.” “First take off those filthy things…”

Endō’s eerie fingertips peeled off the tattered hanten and other garments from Mrs. Fumiyo’s body one by one. At first she had tried to resist, but since her opponent’s objective had completely changed, she no longer felt compelled to exert herself to the utmost as before; moreover, every ounce of strength had been drained from her body, rendering any further resistance utterly impossible. She was stripped of her kimono almost as if in a dreamlike state and then had the warm bear pelt snugly pulled over her.

The bear pelt had its abdomen cut open with hidden buttons like those on a shirt; when one put it on and fastened the buttons, a seamless, perfectly lifelike bear came into being. Of course, human legs and bear hind legs did not match in shape, but that part had been ingeniously crafted so that from the outside, the hind legs merely appeared slightly thicker, rendering it indistinguishable from a real bear.

“Come on, Little Bear, time for walkies.” “Time for walkies.” Endō spoke in a coaxing voice, produced a short trainer’s whip—though when he had prepared it was unclear—and began lashing the bear’s hindquarters with terrible force. The supple whip sliced through the air, crack, crack, resounding throughout the room.

Mrs. Fumiyo inside the bear had no intention of crawling out, but if she remained still, Endō would lift her waist with both hands and push vigorously, so she ended up crawling a few steps from the momentum. As he repeated this over and over, the strange human bear had finally circled the room. It was a scene both bizarre and terrifying, beyond all description. In a bare, furniture-less room like an empty house, on the faded tatami mats, the beast tamer’s act had begun. The large bear was being trained to perform tricks.

The one being used was a real human; beneath a single layer of pelt lay Mrs. Fumiyo, utterly naked. As for the beast tamer, though he wore a happi coat and stood upright on two legs, he himself remained a beast. A beast-man with leopard’s eyes, leopard’s fangs, leopard’s tongue—and a leopard’s heart. It was a grotesque farce. A truly terrifying and cruel spectacle.

But what on earth was the Human Leopard trying to do? Merely dressing her in a bear pelt and toying with her didn’t seem to be his ultimate goal. Something far more horrifying undoubtedly lay in wait ahead for Mrs. Fumiyo. Endō had used the word “execution.” What kind of cruelty could that word possibly entail? “Well then, let’s stop here for today.” “Now, now, Little Bear must stay quiet in the cage.”

Endō chased the bear into the closet, placed it inside that sturdy wooden box, and closed the lid from above.

“Little Bear, you must be hungry.” “I’ll bring it for you now.” “Your favorite—a live rabbit.” “You just have to wait a little longer.”

And with a snap, the closet’s sliding door shut.

Mrs. Fumiyo could no longer move, see, or hear. There was only hellish darkness and graveyard silence. Speaking of graveyards, the inside of the wooden box—where she couldn’t even shift her position—somehow made her think of a coffin. Moreover, a coffin buried deep underground.

But surely they didn’t intend to leave Mrs. Fumiyo like this and let her starve to death. The Human Leopard’s execution would not be such a lenient affair. Ah, what on earth was he thinking? What did the bear pelt have to do with it? I wanted to know now. No matter how terrifying it might be, it was better than not knowing. I couldn’t endure terror beyond imagination’s reach.

The Terrifying Tenant

The story returned to where we had left off.

Akechi Kogorō’s distress at losing sight of his beloved wife Fumiyo was only natural. Even a renowned detective remains human. There were times he erred and times he panicked. His greatness lay in refusing to let psychological blows linger. Though he might falter, he ultimately possessed such intellectual prowess and vitality that he could redeem any misstep tenfold. For such a man as this, errors ceased to be errors—agitation ceased to be agitation.

He ran around the vicinity of the scene and strained to grasp some clue, but when he realized there was no prospect, he borrowed a telephone at a nearby store and urgently reported the circumstances to the investigation headquarters at K Police Station. Since Inspector Tsunekawa from the Metropolitan Police Department was also present, he was able to request thorough arrangements. Then, having calmed down somewhat, he stopped by the Rokku District police box as well, but unfortunately, the handsome officer who had dealt with the Human Leopard had just been replaced by someone else shortly before, leaving no means to inquire about the epileptic woman. Had Akechi heard of that strange incident, he would have instantly grasped its significance and formulated an exact investigative strategy—but due to a mere minute or two’s misalignment, it led to an utterly unforeseen outcome.

Though Inspector Tsunekawa had already arranged the search for Fumiyo, a man of Akechi’s caliber would never leave his beloved wife’s case entirely to the authorities. He wandered through the movie district and down main streets and back alleys alike, letting his feet carry him where they would. This itself proved he had lost his usual composure—after all, he wasn’t normally a detective who relied on legwork. Some time later, he found himself standing absently before a greengrocer’s shop in a back alley. At the storefront lined with fresh vegetables, three or four neighborhood housewives were shopping. Suddenly noticing, he realized one of them was saying something peculiar.

“That’s what’s so strange, you see.” “He doesn’t show his face or figure at all.” “I deliver three meals a day from my place.” “I silently open the kitchen’s sliding door, place it on the wooden floor, and leave.” “That’s the firm promise we have, you see.” “After a while, he would go to retrieve the meal tray.” “Then the contents would be gone, and the empty lacquer rice container and meal tray would be neatly placed back in their original spot.”

“Oh, how dreadful! And have you seen that person?” “That’s just it—he isn’t there. The person who first moved in was, well, a fine gentleman, but… It seems it isn’t that person after all.” “Huh, that sounds kinda creepy, doesn’t it? But how did you know it was a different person?”

“I saw the hands, you see.” “I didn’t see his face, but I did see his hands, you see.”

“What about the hands?” “This morning when I went to get the empty meal tray and opened the sliding door—I’d come a bit earlier than usual—it looked like he’d just finished eating. The sliding door between the tearoom and kitchen was slightly open, and through that gap I saw two hands putting the empty tray out on the wooden floor.” “Those hands—startled by the sound of me opening the door—jerked back in a flash. Then suddenly slammed the tearoom’s sliding door shut with a bang. I heard clattering footsteps running upstairs.”

“My, he must be going to great lengths to avoid being seen.” “But you could tell it was a different person just by seeing those hands?” “Yes, I’ve never seen such creepy hands before.” “They were dusky and shaggy, unnervingly sinewy, with long fingers whose tips had pitch-black nails grown out to three bu.” “The gentleman who first rented that house was never that kind of person.”

“Oh dear.” “So that person stays shut up in the house and never goes out, huh?”

“But it seems he does go out sometimes, you see. It seems he sneaks out without being seen—I’ve never caught a glimpse of him—but the proof he goes out is that before you know it, there are two people there. It looks like he’s dragged in a woman from somewhere. And then, isn’t it strange? There was a letter on top of the lunch tray, you see. It said, ‘Please bring two portions starting this evening.’” “You plan on leaving that alone?”

The listening housewife lowered her voice and asked with a serious expression.

“I’ve been wondering what to do about that.” “I’m scared of what might happen if I act rashly.” “But what if that... it’s...” She leaned in close and whispered, “If it’s the Human Leopard, wouldn’t that be awful?”

Having heard this much was sufficient. Akechi abruptly approached the housewife who had been speaking and announced his true name. Then, since the housewife knew well the name of the renowned detective who had lately been making headlines, their conversation proceeded smoothly.

The housewife was the proprietress of a nearby caterer. The place where she delivered the meals was a small rented house that had been occupied just four or five days prior. It was an utterly dilapidated shack, with nothing but a single wall separating its rear from Hanayashiki's animal shed, and both neighboring buildings being storage areas—a combination that gave it such an eerie atmosphere that it had gone without tenants for so long. The tenant had been a respectable bachelor who strictly agreed to have three meals a day delivered from her establishment—regardless of whether anyone was home—to always leave the meal tray in a designated spot, to never enter beyond the kitchen, and had paid a month’s rent in advance. However, as she had just explained, the person currently living there was by no means that gentleman.

“Let me investigate that house for you.” “If it’s a suspicious person, I’ll hand them over to the police immediately, and if not, I’ll handle it smoothly so you won’t be troubled.” “What do you say?” “Would you guide me there?”

When Akechi explained matters, the landlady promptly agreed and led the way. After also securing the landlord's understanding and reaching the kitchen entrance of the problematic rental house, Akechi dismissed the landlady and slipped into the building alone—taking every precaution not to alert his target through meticulous care. The house stood barren inside, empty of both furnishings and human presence. Having completed his silent inspection of the ground floor, he turned his attention upstairs. Just as the landlady's account had suggested, the suspicious man appeared to reside on the second floor.

When disguising himself, Akechi made a point of never forgetting his detective’s seven tools. A small pistol was one of them. He gripped the pistol in his pocket while ascending the rickety staircase without making a sound, moving at a snail’s pace. But after spending such a long time and finally poking his head above the stairs, to his surprise, the second floor was just as desolately empty, with no sign of anyone at all. Though the second floor had only two rooms, both sides of the open sliding doors appeared utterly empty.

Perhaps the suspicious person had gone out. But there couldn’t be two people here. At least one person—the woman at least—should still be here. No—she must be confined here. Akechi gradually let his guard down and crawled across the tatami mats into the eight-mat room at the back. A musty room devoid of furnishings, faded tatami mats, beyond the shoji a narrow veranda with glass doors shut tight.

Akechi intended to go all the way to that veranda and check behind the shoji screen. Had he done so, that incident would never have occurred. But when he reached the middle of the room, an uncanny noise reverberated through the air, startling him. Something massive seemed to writhe nearby. This was no ordinary rat.

Suddenly noticing, he realized that the sliding door of the closet on his right was swaying faintly with each noise.

There was something in the closet. It was undoubtedly human. But this could not be the suspicious man himself. Had it been him, he would have detected Akechi's intrusion - such a man would never carelessly make noises to alert his enemy.

Then, the person confined in this closet was none other than that woman. It had to be Ms. Fumiyo, kidnapped by the Human Leopard and still wearing her traditional married woman's hairstyle.

Akechi could hesitate no longer. As noted before, he had lost his usual composure from excessive worry over his beloved wife. He abruptly stopped before the closet and slid open its door. There lay a human bound hand and foot with a gag in their mouth. But what shocked both Akechi and surely you readers was that this wasn't Ms. Fumiyo. It wasn't a woman, but a man. Moreover, it was someone Akechi knew intimately. This was none other than the person who had first dragged him into this bizarre case's vortex—as readers will doubtless recall. That pitiful figure belonged to Kamiya, the young lover of Egawa Ranko—the revue girl who had been a previous victim.

Even Akechi could not help but be aghast at this preposterous reunion with someone he had never expected to encounter. “Ah! You…”

He had been about to say “Kamiya?” But there was no time to finish. At that moment, a man who had been hiding behind the veranda’s shoji screen—a large boxer-like figure in a maroon jacket and khaki pants—swiftly crept up behind Akechi and swung down the club he held with full force. Akechi was caught off guard and unable to dodge; he took a fierce blow to the crown of his head. He reeled as if heaven and earth were swaying violently—instantly his field of vision plunged into darkness, sinking deeper and deeper into the earth’s depths. He lost consciousness and collapsed where he stood.

“Heeheehee! Look at you now, Mr. Famous Detective—ain’t got no backbone at all!” The large man poked Akechi’s body with the tip of his foot while uttering abusive words.

“Looks like you two know each other.” “Perfect timing—getting along so well sleeping here together aren’t you?” He took out prepared thin rope bound the detective’s corpse-like body in tight coils rolled up a hand towel and applied an airtight gag.

“So, you’ll just have to put up with this until tomorrow evening.” “By tomorrow night, everything will be O・K, you see.”

The man looked down at the two captives and muttered triumphantly.

What did he mean by "everything OK"? Would these two be disposed of tomorrow night? Or did it signify an even more terrifying circumstance altogether?

What in the world was this large man? Of course, he was undoubtedly one of the Human Leopard’s underlings, but considering that the Human Leopard had left his formidable foe Akechi Kogorō in such a man’s custody, perhaps the Leopard himself had some pressing business elsewhere. Indeed, that might very well be the case. Dear readers, you are well aware of this. He served as guardian of the bear girl. He kept watch over her cage somewhere else. And without a doubt, even now, he licked those red lips while laughing uproariously—prepared to commence the dreadful execution.

Ah, what would become of Ms. Fumiyo’s fate? The poor woman, unaware that Akechi was suffering such a fate, was inside the cage, within the dark bear costume, each moment feeling like an eternity as she longed for the famous detective’s miraculous appearance. Nevertheless, the famous detective slept on in a deep stupor, with no sign of waking. He had been knocked unconscious and, as if that weren’t enough, had been considerately bound so he couldn’t move a muscle. Ah, would he truly be able to fulfill his beloved wife’s expectations? Even with Akechi’s mental fortitude and cunning, wasn’t it nearly hopeless to navigate this crisis?

Akechi Kogorō! Now was the perfect opportunity to test your power. And now, when you had been beaten down, bound, and your soul wandered through another darkness of this world, you mustered your superhuman mental strength and magical wit to the fullest extent.

Eat or be eaten

Akechi was floundering in pitch-black, heavy water. The more he struggled, the deeper he sank into the quagmire's depths. He had to save her. Ms. Fumiyo had been stripped naked and was crying and screaming, blood flowing all over her body—this could be seen clearly through the black water. He had to save her quickly, quickly, quickly. But the more he struggled, the deeper he sank into the watery depths. For a truly long, long time, it had been a desperate, deadly struggle. It was a sweat-drenched battle between his fierce will and dormant brain cells. And finally, he managed to float up from the pitch-black water to the light surface. Suddenly, the sounds of reality returned. It was a very loud noise. But soon, he realized it was his own tinnitus. The tinnitus gradually subsided, and soon he found himself in a silence where nothing remained but the fading echo of that ringing. It wasn't just the sound. When he opened his eyes, it was still as if the nightmare continued—the surroundings were pitch-black darkness.

Next he felt an uncanny pressure throughout his body. He lay in the darkness, unable to move his hands or feet. No—this went beyond mere immobility. He couldn't even speak. A bizarre delusion seized him. Am I dead? And buried beneath a massive tombstone?

But as his consciousness gradually sharpened, the situation became clear. The full wretchedness of his current predicament became clear. It became clear to him that Akechi Kogorō was bound tightly all over his body, fitted with a hard gag, and left lying in a pitch-black room without a single light.

As he strained his eyes and stared intently, gradations gradually formed within the darkness until vague shapes became discernible. It was likely the same room where he had collapsed during the day—a six-tatami space devoid of furniture or any other objects. As he continued staring toward the boundary with the adjacent room, he sensed a living presence. It was breathing. A faint squirming could be felt. Suddenly, he heard that entity emit a stifled groan... It was human. There was no doubt—someone lay there deprived of freedom and collapsed.

But at once he grasped the situation—ah, yes. This was where young Kamiya Yoshio had been bound and imprisoned. During daylight hours, distracted by Kamiya’s unexpected appearance, he must have taken that blow and collapsed on the spot. Then, without realizing it, he too had fallen into the same ropes as Kamiya and been left sprawled here—no doubt of it. “Kamiya-kun.” He carelessly tried to speak, but it emerged only as a wretched groan. A gag. A gag stuffed full in his mouth.

He writhed to roll closer to Kamiya and devise a way to untie the ropes, but with their ends seemingly lashed to a pillar, the more he struggled, the deeper the ropes bit into his flesh. It was a professional’s handiwork. Akechi knew all too well how a single rope could exert such immense power when handled by an expert. This wasn’t a puzzle to solve with wits. Even brute strength proved futile against an expert’s knots. He ceased his futile thrashing and lay on his back, closing his eyes as he settled into the least uncomfortable position possible.

It was a long, long night.

Twice during that time, an unfamiliar large man came up from downstairs, making the ladder steps creak, to check on the captives.

Each time, the electric light hanging from the ceiling was turned on. He was a large man wearing a gaudy undershirt who must have been at least six feet tall. He was a bear-like brute with a bushy, unkempt beard covering his face. Undoubtedly, he was a ruffian hired by the Human Leopard. “Did you figure it out?” The man looked down at Akechi’s face and said with a smirk. “Hmph, detective—you’ve had a narrow escape.” “Well then, sleep tight.”

He mercilessly said such things and snapped off the light.

Eventually, night ended, and bright light began to stream through the gaps in the storm shutters. The room became as bright as twilight. And then another long stretch of time passed. The guard came up two or three times even after daybreak, but he only stared intently at the two captives and went back down without a word. In his right hand, a pistol glinted threateningly, as if to say it would fire at the slightest provocation.

As previously mentioned, though the vacant house was adjacent to Asakusa Park, it stood in a strangely desolate area. Behind it lay a zoo separated by a brick wall; on either side stood buildings so dilapidated they resembled uninhabitable huts; and the road in front had one side backing onto a large restaurant—no thoroughfare for sightseers. Even had they raised their voices, it remained doubtful whether the sound could penetrate both storm shutters and glass doors to reach passersby. Moreover, both captives wore heavy gags. Even shouting through those gaps would have produced nothing louder than the moans of a dying patient.

Eventually, around what seemed to be noon, the beast-like large man came creaking up the stairs, holding a pistol in one hand and two milk bottles in the other. “Detective, and you over there, kid—I’ve got a little proposition for you all.” The man squatted in the middle of the room, stared down intently at their faces, and began in a hoarse voice. “I ain’t plannin’ to let you shrivel up dead.” “Must be starvin’, eh?” “Since you’ve kept so quiet-like, maybe I’ll feed ya.” “But listen—take off these gags, and you start yellin’, this piece here’ll give ya a lead present.” “Course, if you wanna die that way, suit yerself—but I’d rather keep things peaceful-like.” “So—swear you’ll stay quiet?” “Do that, and I’ll let ya drink this milk.”

Unfortunately, both Akechi and Kamiya were starving. They had no choice but to accept the man's "mercy." Moreover, for Akechi, the opportunity to have the gag removed was a chance to ask this man some things he wanted to know. "Hmph, so you both promise not to make a sound." "Alright, then I'll take off your gags now." The man lifted them up, leaned their upper bodies against the pillars they were bound to, and removed the gags.

“Hahahaha, there’s no need to worry so much.” “I won’t make any loud noises.” “I don’t want anyone to see me in such a miserable state, you see.” “If help were to come, I’d be the one in trouble.” “Rest assured.” Akechi, seeing that the man was vigilantly holding his pistol at the ready, said with a smile.

“Hmm, I see. “Indeed, now that you mention it, that’s how it goes.” “Akechi, of all people, ending up like this.” The man said resentfully and lowered his pistol. “I have two or three things I’d like to ask you, but first let me drink that. After all, I’m parched.” Akechi and Kamiya took one bottle of milk each from the man’s hand in turn and gulped it down eagerly. The young man Kamiya was utterly exhausted and lacked even the strength to speak. The only one speaking was Akechi.

“Well, thank you.” “It was good.” “First—there’s something I want to ask. That woman who called herself the restaurant proprietress and brought me here yesterday was likely one of your associates, yes?” “When you say ‘you all,’ you mean the ‘Human Leopard’ gang.”

Hearing this, the large man sneered at the corner of his lips. “Hmph. Did you only realize that now?” “Took you long enough.” “So you were waiting all last night for help to come, weren’t you?” “Hmph, you’re gettin’ way ahead of yourself, ain’t ya?” In fact, Akechi had found it strange. He had thought that if someone were to find out he had entered this vacant house and never left, that proprietress would surely report the matter to the police. But seeing that no rescue came no matter how long they waited, he could only conclude that the proprietress herself was one of the gang members and that she had put on an elaborate act to lure Akechi into this vacant house. That story about getting permission from the landlord back then must have been a lie too.

“Well, you’ve outdone yourselves.” “That woman deserves an acting award.” Akechi said, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. “So you were the one who rented this place?” “I assumed Endō himself would be here, but—”

“We made it look that way.” “Otherwise the beast wouldn’t take the bait.” “I’m the master of this house.” “There’s not a living soul here but me.” “So you’re alone?” “And you feel no fear?” “Bound though I am, I remain Akechi Kogorō.” “Hahaha! Save your threats!” “I ain’t workin’ solo.” “Got another ally here—small but fierce.” “Great detective or not, you ain’t twitchin’ a muscle... I’m one reckless bastard, see?”

The man answered brazenly while bouncing the small pistol on his palm.

“By the way, what exactly do you intend to do with us? What did Endō command you? Did he order you to kill us both?” Akechi asked mockingly. “Yeah, that’s how it’ll end up sooner or later. But not now. Well, seems you’ll be safe until evening.”

The man bared his teeth and declared hatefully.

“Hoh. Until evening?”

“Yeah, until then, the Human Leopard has pressing matters to attend to, you see.” “It’s that whole ‘eat or be eaten’ business, you see.” “Eat or be eaten, you say?” Akechi made a strange face and inquired sharply. There was something familiar about the phrase “eat or be eaten.” “Ah-bah-bah-bah! I wasn’t supposed to say this.” “Oh, well, anyway, the point is, there’s no danger to your lives until evening.” “That’s all there is to it.”

The man tried to hastily cover it up, but Akechi was not one to let such momentous words slip by unheeded. He considered whether that peculiar phrase might be hinting at the fate of his beloved wife Fumiyo. He could conceive of no other interpretation. But what manner of fate?

He stared fixedly into empty space, as if twisting a drill into the core of his skull, frantically straining to recall something. A long silence stretched out. That elusive thing hovered just beyond recollection—almost within grasp yet stubbornly refusing to surface—as he desperately tried to wrestle it into his consciousness. The gold-tipped cigarette

But soon, blood rushed to Akechi’s pale face. He must have realized something. And in the next moment, a look of terrible anxiety appeared in his eyes. He couldn’t stay like this. Fumiyo was in danger. But how could he escape this rigorous confinement?

“But you see, I don’t intend to stay here until evening.”

Suddenly, Akechi broke into a grin and declared. “Hey, hey—cut the empty bluster. Even if you don’t intend to stay, I’m the one keepin’ you here—so there’s no way out.” “This rope, huh?” “Yeah, that’s right. But no escape artist alive could slip outta that rope.” “And then, that pistol, huh?” “Yeah, exactly, exactly. This little comrade here’s a real satisfyin’ fellow, y’know. Takin’ your two lives won’t be any trouble at all for this little comrade.”

“Brrr… Oh, I’m trembling with fear.” “Well then, I suppose I’ll just lie here quietly, shall I?”

Akechi laughed with an odd amusement and flopped down on his side.

“You’re one creepy bastard… But if you’re gonna stay quiet like that, I ain’t got no complaints. Might be tight again, but let me get this back on ya.”

The man took the tightly rolled hand towel and prepared to replace the gag. “Hey—before putting that thing back in, I’ve got a request.” Akechi said with an unchanged grin. “What?” “You don’t happen to have any cigarettes, do you? An empty stomach makes me crave a smoke. Since you’re already here, how about letting me have one?”

“Hmm, cigarettes?” “Impressive.” “You really do have composure.” “Easy enough favor…” “But bad timing—I’m out.” “Been dyin’ for a smoke myself ages now, but I can’t just leave you two here ’n’ go buy any.” “Tough luck—you’ll hafta bear with it.”

“Well, well… That’s a shame. Wait a second.” “Hey, you—there are, there are!” “There’s a cigarette case in my inner pocket.” “There should still be two or three left inside.” “Hey, sorry to trouble you, but could you reach into this pocket and take that out for me?” “Of course, I’ll give you one too.” “They’re M.C.C., you know.” “Hmm, M.C.C., you say? Can’t just let that slide.” “Haven’t laid eyes on you in ages.” “Alright, alright, I’ll get it out for you right now.”

The man, who must have been quite the smoker, broke into a grin as he reached into the inner pocket of Akechi’s workman’s clothes. From the grimy workman’s clothes emerged a silver cigarette case. Then another item—a large multipurpose knife—was pulled out with a clatter. “Well, well—look what you’re carrying around here.” “Dangerous stuff.” “I’ll be holdin’ onto this.”

The man placed the multipurpose knife beside him, then snapped open the cigarette case. “Well, well—Kinkuchi? They’re not in style these days.” “And only two measly ones at that.” “Two’s plenty, isn’t it?” “I’ll take one, you take one.” “Yeah, guess I’ll put up with it and play nice—we’ll split one each.” “I could confiscate both of them, you know.”

As could be inferred from his manner of speaking all along, this prizefighter-like large man appeared to be an unexpectedly good-natured soul for a villain. He placed a Kinkuchi cigarette into the mouth of Akechi, who lay sprawled out, and lit a match for him.

“Ah, much obliged—truly excellent.” “Now, no need to hold back—have yours.” Akechi blew a stream of blue smoke toward the ceiling and cheerfully urged him on through clenched cigarette teeth. The man—clearly a heavy smoker—seemed unable to resist the fragrant haze any longer. He pulled out a Kinkuchi cigarette for himself, lit it, and abruptly began puffing in earnest. “By the way—you there—ever heard of something called Z Circus?”

Akechi began as if making casual small talk.

Strangely, upon closer observation, he was merely puffing out M.C.C. smoke without restraint, showing no sign of inhaling deeply. His manner didn’t resemble that of someone who had truly wanted a cigarette. When he heard “Z Circus,” the man became flustered for some reason and gave an awkward reply. “I don’t know. Some circus like that.” “Is that so? I thought you probably knew.”

Akechi narrowed his eyes and stared fixedly at the man’s demeanor through his eyelashes. The man fell silent and smoked cigarettes without restraint. An overly leisurely conversation at a sluggish tempo; a cheerful scene indistinguishable between friend and foe; a languid, tepid air enveloped the room. A drowsy interval passed. “Hahahaha! Well, Boss, it seems the time has finally come for us to part ways.”

Suddenly, Akechi spat out his cigarette butt and said with a low laugh.

But the man had no strength left to respond to this outburst.

His hand holding the cigarette drooped limply, his mouth hung open vacantly, and in the languid spring haze, he nodded off contentedly. He kept bobbing his head, deep in slumber. “Kamiya, save the greetings for later,” Akechi called out in a voice transformed from before—now tense—to the young man beside him. “We’re safe now. This guy’s fallen asleep.”

Exhausted from fatigue and slumped powerlessly, Kamiya Yoshio jerked upright at Akechi's voice. "So that cigarette just now had something..."

“That’s right. “I’ve never neglected preparations for emergencies. “In my inner pocket, I always keep two Westminster or M.C.C. cigarettes loaded with strong anesthetic, always at the ready. “I didn’t inhale any of it. “But he was starved for tobacco and inhaled recklessly. “This is the result. “No matter how you kick or stomp him now, he won’t wake up.”

“Ah, so that’s how it was.”

Kamiya marveled at the famous detective’s preparations, “But how did you handle this rope…?” With that, he still retained a doubtful look. Akechi indicated “that” with his eyes, then suddenly got onto his stomach and inched toward the Swiss Army knife that the man had earlier grabbed from his pocket and placed on the tatami mat, finally managing to clamp it between his teeth. Then, pressing the knife’s handle against a pillar’s edge, he skillfully flipped open its blade, gripped the handle firmly between his molars, and began vigorously sawing the rope binding his own chest back and forth.

The Terrifying Beast Master In an instant, the roles of captor and captive were reversed. Akechi painstakingly untied his own ropes, freed Kamiya Yoshio, then bound the large man who lay crouched there asleep—wrapping him tightly in reverse—and even stuffed a monkey gag into his mouth. When that was done, Akechi pulled out from his right pocket an object he had been itching to examine from the very beginning. It was none other than the red advertisement flyer he had received from a stern-faced billposter with a general-like beard just before losing sight of Fumiyo yesterday, now crumpled into a ball. On the back of that advertisement flyer, the usual "Human Leopard’s" challenge had been scrawled in pencil.

He had finally traced his fading memory back to its source—the moment the Human Leopard’s hulking underling blurted out that strange phrase, “Eat or Be Eaten.” That phrase was none other than the one printed prominently in large-size typeface across the surface of the red advertisement flyer he had glanced at and casually crumpled. Akechi carefully unfolded the crumpled advertisement flyer and examined it. Printed there in crude wording was the following text.

Eat or Be Eaten‼ Indian Fierce Tiger vs. North Sea Giant Bear: A Great Bloody Battle‼ Our Z Circus shall soon bid farewell to Tokyo’s citizens within days. As a parting token of gratitude for your patronage, we humbly announce that from 1 PM on X month X day onward, we will present—through special guest Beast Master Mr. Mountain Henry’s appearance—a ferocious duel between an Indian tiger and North Sea bear: “Eat or Be Eaten,” a battle that will not cease until blood flows. What more need be said? As this is a clash between beasts, injury or death is inevitable—a horrific and tragic spectacle never to be witnessed again if missed this once. On that day, we earnestly entreat all citizens for your honored attendance and vocal support.

And so, in the upper section of the page, a photograph of a strange-looking individual was printed in large size, with "Portrait of World-Famous Beast Master Mr. Mountain Henry" inscribed beneath it. And in the lower left corner, there was even an illustration of a fierce battle between a tiger and a bear. Akechi had been too preoccupied with the challenge on the flyer’s reverse side yesterday to properly examine the advertisement itself, nor had he paid any attention to the beast master’s photograph. But now, looking closely, he made a startling discovery: the figure displayed here as Mr. Mountain Henry was none other than yesterday’s billposter with the general-like beard. The world-famous beast master himself carrying advertisement banners, distributing flyers, and walking around Asakusa—what an audacious, fraudulent scheme this must be!

Akechi stared holes into the strange photograph, but then—having realized something—suddenly thrust the flyer before Kamiya’s eyes and hurriedly asked: “Kamiya, look closely at this—at this photograph.” “Do you get any sense from this photograph?” “Don’t you recognize this person?” Startled by Akechi’s sudden intensity, Kamiya took the flyer and stared fixedly at the photograph.

“Now that you mention it… I do feel like I’ve seen this face before.” “But…”

“Can’t you recall? Then imagine removing that stiff, upturned black general’s beard and replacing it with a white mustache and a flowing white goatee. Have you ever seen such an old man?” “White mustache, white goatee… Ah! That’s it. He looks just like him!” Kamiya turned pale in astonishment. “Endō’s father?” “That’s right. That’s right. It must be him. But how…”

“I thought it was probably something like that. Since I haven’t yet met Endō’s father, I asked you about it—and indeed it was so. Kamiya, this guy was disguised as a billposter and lying in wait for us beside the Asakusa movie theater yesterday. And while he lured me into a back alley and kept me occupied by handing me this thing like a challenge, 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 immediately!” “I’ve been thinking precisely that.”

“Do you have any idea where they took her?”

“I believe she’s inside this Z Circus.”

Akechi answered, pale-faced. "Huh? She's inside the circus?!" "Moreover, I've just thought of something terrifying. Hahahaha, well—I might be suffering from a touch of neurasthenia. But if it's true—ah, how terrifying..." For one such as Akechi to feel such terror, such shuddering—what could this mean? "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Kamiya, the young man, peered into the detective’s face with concern. “No, please don’t ask me now.” “I’m even terrified to speak of it.” “However, I must hurry.” “But will we make it in time?” Akechi looked at his wristwatch. Fortunately, it hadn’t been damaged and was still working.

“Five minutes to one o’clock. We can’t stay like this. Kamiya, I’ll explain later. Come with me.”

No sooner had he spoken than he rushed down the ladder steps. Kamiya followed him. When they stepped out onto the street, they hurried toward Asakusa Park and to the public telephone at its entrance—the number they dialed was, of course, the K Police Station’s investigation headquarters. Fortunately, Inspector Tsunekawa was present and answered the phone. There, Akechi quickly coordinated plans about Fumiyo’s whereabouts, the Human Leopard’s base, and the means to attack it; then he exited the public phone booth, hurried to the main street, and hailed a taxi.

Z Circus

In a corner of greater Tokyo’s southwest—M District, famous for its dusty antique market square where the tentacles of urban life encroached upon rural farmlands and citizens, farmers, and small factory workers swirled and mingled in a vortex—a great circus had been running for about a month. Its name was Z Circus.

At the front of the circus’s great tent, an eerie picture sign had suddenly been put up since yesterday. Across a massive three-ken square billboard, a horrifying scene was depicted in garish muddy paints: a ferocious tiger—yellow with beautifully patterned black stripes—and a jet-black bear, both reared up on their hind legs, digging sharp claws into each other’s flesh, crimson mouths agape and ivory fangs locked together as they struggled bloodily in mortal combat. “The tiger and the bear are going to fight until one of them dies.”

“Eat or be eaten—that’s what it is.” The crowd before the picture sign swelled moment by moment as the appointed hour of the dreadful spectacle—1 PM—drew near. “Hurry now, hurry! The tiger and bear’s mortal combat is about to begin!” “Miss this, and you’ll never see its like again.” “A tale to be told till your grandchildren’s twilight years!” At the ticket gate, a man in a short happi coat shouted himself crimson-faced. Through that gate streamed a bead-like chain of spectators. Past the usual seats they pressed, into temporary mat-covered stands that spilled across the circus ring—a sea of heads crammed shoulder to shoulder, as far as the eye could see. Then silence fell like a shroud, a thousand hearts pounding as one in anticipation of the grotesque spectacle soon to unfold.

On the elevated stage at the front hung an old velvet curtain that hung down nonchalantly, concealing the impassioned creatures that must have been lurking behind it. On the reddish-brown curtain, a giant letter Z was embossed in gold braid.

"Gong, gong, gong..." A deafening drumbeat roared suddenly. A wave of murmuring swept through the audience like rippling ears of rice. Coughs erupted here and there. Then those too fell completely silent beneath the vast tent that lay like a sheet of still water. The curtain slid upward smoothly.

At the center of the stage stood a bizarre figure—a crimson velvet jacket adorned with gold braid and imposing decorations, matching trousers, a similarly gleaming velvet hat—the spitting image of a Spanish bullfighter. Moreover, right in the middle of his face was an astonishingly magnificent jet-black general’s beard—so stiff it curved back past his ears—that bobbed up and down every time he spoke. This was none other than Mr. Ōyama Henry, the Beast Troupemaster himself.

He delivered his opening spiel in a self-important tone befitting his general’s beard, idly twisting a beast whip between both hands. “Now then—we shall press those two cages tightly together, open the intervening door, and pit tiger against bear!” At the rear of the stage where he pointed with his whip loomed two wheeled cages, dimly visible in the shadows. In one prowled a tiger of fearsome vitality—stomping heavily between narrow iron bars, periodically emitting a bloodcurdling “ROAR!” The other cage held an enormous black bear twice the tiger’s size, yet so craven it huddled petrified in a corner, trembling violently.

“...The bear is a coward.” “But rest assured, ladies and gentlemen—there is no cause for concern.” “Though he may appear so, when faced with an enemy’s assault, he will swiftly reveal his true nature and rise with ferocity.” “The bear will likely begin with a show of force.” “Then the tiger will crouch low and press in, unleashing its sharp fangs and claws in full measure.” “After their struggle persists awhile, one beast shall inevitably be wounded. Once blood is drawn, these flesh-starved creatures will grow suddenly more savage—until at last they cease not until they rend their foe’s throat with a crunch.”

The beast tamer with the general’s beard paused his speech there and, as if to confirm the effect of his oratory, quietly surveyed the venue. “Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, you are truly fortunate indeed.” “You shall now behold—in vivid, horrifying detail—a spectacle to make your hair stand on end: beasts costing ten thousand yen per head being wounded, felled, their hides rent, their flesh devoured, until nothing but bones remain.” “Ah, but ladies and gentlemen of the audience—that is not all!” “The beasts will weep and scream.” “They will flee about in a frenzy.” “Ah, just like humans—like a frail, beautiful woman—they will scream and wail, begging for help.” “What kind of ghastly spectacle shall unfold before your very eyes?” “Horrifying beyond measure, gruesome beyond compare, bizarre beyond belief, monstrous beyond imagination—a spectacle that would surely surpass even your wildest nightmares, ladies and gentlemen of the audience!”

The bearded beast tamer blurted out something incomprehensible. Was it merely an exaggeration to frighten the audience? Or could it be that behind his bizarre words there truly lay some terrifying hidden meaning? “Now then, we shall conclude this lengthy introduction and finally present to you the live demonstration of ‘Eat or Be Eaten’—the beasts’ bloody battle!” Holding his whip at an angle and making an affected bow, the gilded beast tamer retreated to the corner of the stage and signaled to the stagehands.

“Gong... Gong... Gong...” Once again, the drum’s thunderous roar resounded. The eight men who had rushed onto the stage split into two groups of four each, rumbled the cages forward with grinding noises, pulled them to the front of the stage, aligned them flush together, and fastened them with heavy-duty metal fixtures.

Mr. Ōyama Henry once again took a step forward and offered a polite bow. Then, by the hands of the men, the two doors between the cages were lifted with a clatter. In an instant, the two cages became one.

Akechi Kogorō and young Kamiya were hailing a taxi on the main street beside Asakusa Park at precisely that moment. “The three-way fork in M District.” “I’ll pay any fare.” “Get me there in five minutes.”

As soon as Akechi got into the car, he barked at the driver.

“You want me to do it in five minutes?!” “No way—that’s impossible!” “Even if I floor it, it’ll take at least ten minutes!” But the driver was still a young, agile-looking man. “Disregard speed limit regulations.” “I’m with the police.” “There’ll be no repercussions.”

“But no matter how fast I drive in the city, there’s traffic ahead!” The driver shouted back while already accelerating. “Alright, then there’s a bonus.” “Ten yen for every car you pass ahead.” “Ten yen?” “Got it.” “But sir, you never know how many dozens of cars we’ll pass!” “And no saying later it was a joke, got it?” The car shot forward like an arrow. Pedestrians streamed away behind them like a raging torrent. Ah—one after another, streetcars, automobiles, trucks passed by and were left behind. They had ignored traffic signals at crossroads not just once or twice.

“Hey, stop!” The bright red face of the police officer—arms spread wide as he shouted—rapidly shrank smaller and smaller into the distance.

On the stage, inside the now-single cage, the two beasts continued their standoff. Even as they glared at each other, the bear remained in its earlier posture, its head hanging down, crouched motionless as if dead. In stark contrast, the ferocious tiger, coiling and uncoiling its long tail with dramatic flair, lowered its head, crouched its body, and rumbled a low growl—the prelude to an attack.

“Bear! Bear! Hang in there!”

A strange shout arose from a corner of the auditorium. “Tiger! Take it down! C’mon, leap at it!” Another cheer resounded in an absurd voice. Yet the beasts refused to be riled and remained motionless, locked in their standoff. Gradually, gradually, the ferocious tiger’s growl grew louder. From the exasperated audience, a roar like a raging torrent finally erupted. “Do it... Do it...”

“Take it down…!” “Fight! Fight! Fight!…” Before the beasts could act, the spectators became frenzied. Under the big tent was now a crucible of sweat-drenched passion. 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 giant bullet and lunged at the bear.

“Aaaaah…” The shouts rose; the entire audience leapt to their feet. But what an anticlimax. The big bear was completely unresisting. Knocked over by the tiger’s blow with a heavy thud, it lay on its back, limbs in the air.

“Bear! Hang in there!” The tiger, seemingly unnerved by its opponent’s passivity, retreated to its original position and assumed a stance for a second assault, intently watching the enemy’s movements. Then the great bear—which until that moment had seemed as if asleep or dead—began weakly moving its limbs while still lying on its back. When it finally managed to sit upright properly, it stared fixedly at the tiger—but then, oh! What was this? The bear began struggling pitifully, as if deranged, trying to escape through gaps in the cage. At that same moment, from somewhere in the auditorium, a faint yet blood-curdling woman’s scream began spreading through the crowd.

But the frenzied spectators did not yet notice the scream. For it was far too faint a sound to be heard amidst the commotion. When the bear realized it couldn’t escape outside the cage, it suddenly rose onto its hind legs and began leaping and bounding about in a frantic dance. While dancing, it darted wildly in all directions within the narrow confines of the cage.

During that time, the dubious woman’s scream continued intermittently. With each cry, with each cry, it continued growing more sorrowful. “Hey, ain’t there a woman crying somewhere?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been wondering about that too since earlier.”

Amidst the commotion of the spectators, here and there, such whispers were exchanged in hushed tones. The fierce tiger, which had seemed momentarily stunned into forgetting its attack by the bear’s frenzied antics, did not remain still for long. Not only that—the enemy’s frenzied antics served as a potent stimulant, further fueling his fighting spirit. A thunderous roar—

Just as a single, ghastly roar resounded, the tiger attempted its second charge like an arrow. Yellow and black merged into a single mass in an instant, twisting wildly as they rolled around inside the cage. “Aaaaah! Aaaaah!”

The shouts rose—but through them, threading the clamor, the pitiful woman’s scream from earlier pierced the spectators’ ears, piercingly high-pitched and thin, so very thin.

Ah, what kind of woman could she be, and where on earth was she crying out? At times, they even began to hallucinate that it was the pitiful big bear screaming for help. But surely, that hulking beast couldn’t possibly be letting out a cry like a human young woman—or could it? "Screech!"

With a scream-like screech of brakes, the car carrying Akechi and the others came to a sudden stop. “Tch. How considerate of a freight train to show up now of all things.” It was only natural that the driver clicked his tongue resentfully. Before them lay a long black-and-yellow-striped railroad crossing barrier, beyond which a pitch-black locomotive—wheezing and panting—was pulling dozens upon dozens of lengthy freight cars clank-clank through the crossing, as if it hadn’t a care in the world.

“Ah! Damn it—Kamiya, our luck’s run out. Look—it’s already a quarter past one. We might not make it in time.”

Akechi, his face deathly pale and eyes bloodshot, groaned.

But the young man Kamiya did not fully grasp the meaning of this. "I've been meaning to ask—where exactly are we going? What won't we make it in time for?" "My wife's life is on the brink. She's about to be killed. For a detective to be unable to save his own wife... Damn it! No matter what it takes, I'll save her!"

He declared with burning hostility, but the next moment collapsed once more under anxiety and agitation. “Ah, but it might be hopeless… This endless freight train might symbolize my cursed luck.”

The Fair Half-Human, Half-Beast

On the circus stage—Crack! Crack!—the whip rang out. Beside the cage glittered a golden object: none other than the bullfighter-style costume of Mr. Ōyama Henry, the notorious Beast Master himself. Each time his right hand sliced through the air, the whip’s crack—driving the bloodthirsty beasts to ever-greater frenzy—resounded above the cage. “Tiger! Tiger! What are you dawdling for? Devour her! Finish her off!”

A drunken-sounding, booming voice resounded. “Crush her…!” “Hang in there…” Shrill voices like a chorus surged forth. What was unbearably strange was how a woman’s scream—utterly out of place in that scene—threaded through those roars, faint and intermittent, carrying an ominous sense of imminent death as it drifted from somewhere unseen.

The two beasts—a tangled mass of yellow and black that had been tumbling wildly within the cage—suddenly sprang apart. With that, the bear collapsed awkwardly as if in a faint and lay motionless. It appeared that the tiger was leaping forward and retreating entirely of its own accord. If we were to consider the fierce tiger as a cat, then the bear—twice as large in frame—was nothing more than a mouse. He had shrunk back, being toyed with exactly as his opponent desired.

The tiger paced circles around its massive defeated foe, blue eyes gleaming with predatory delight as it surveyed the vanquished bear. As it stalked, the beast threw open its crimson maw and unleashed a tempestuous roar that shook the air. The Beast Master's whip sang through the arena with newfound purpose—each supple crack slicing through space like some unearthly flute's shrill note. This alien sound propelled the spectators to feverish heights, their frenzied howls crashing against the stage cage like a tsunami of bloodlust.

The tiger’s eyes grew more and more ferocious with each passing moment. The ugly wrinkles around its mouth became even more hideously distorted. And it seemed as though the blood-starved white fangs were gradually increasing in length and sharpness.

It happened in an instant—too fast for the eye to follow. The tiger's fangs pierced the throat of the bear that lay on its back, struggling. Powerful shoulder muscles bulged as the thick neck swung from side to side like steel machinery. "Whoa! It's finished!"

With that, the spectators once again erupted to their feet. Cheers for the defeated bear once again shook the great tent.

But the bear, spinelessly, remained completely unresisting. What a spineless beast. The spectators, who had been poised in anticipation for when this creature would truly grow enraged, could not help but be disappointed at this turn of events.

“Hey, this is weird,” came a murmur from the front-row spectators. “That bear’s throat has been torn open so badly, but there’s not a drop of blood coming out!” Indeed, no blood flowed from the bear’s throat at all. The tiger’s fangs had sunk into the crescent-shaped patch on its neck, and with each shake of its head, the skin there visibly ripped apart with a sickening crunch—yet not the slightest trickle of blood emerged. It was utterly bizarre. Was it a stuffed bear? No—that couldn’t be right. Could a taxidermied animal struggle and thrash about like that?

But the mystery didn’t stop there. Before long, an eerie commotion arose among the front-row spectators. The hundreds of eyes focused on the bear’s throat began to glare with a frenzied light. Everyone seemed on the verge of madness. They were struck by an indescribable shudder, as though tormented by 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 as he trembled uncontrollably and blurted out. There and here, horrified whispers welled up.

Behold—around the bear’s throat, the skin torn by sharp fangs peeled away with a crunching sound as the tiger’s jaws retreated. Moreover, not a drop of blood flowed, nor did any red flesh appear—and from beneath, unexpectedly or not, something pure white—no, rather pale and smooth—was exposed inch by inch to the spectators’ eyes. The tiger, finding the bear’s skin peeling off with unexpected ease, innocently delighted in this and continued to retreat vigorously. Then, with that force, as though a seam had been pre-made, the bear’s skin was torn straight down from throat to chest, and from chest to abdomen. As it was torn apart, the white, smooth thing inside rapidly grew larger and became visible.

The spectators, now all on their feet, no longer even cleared their throats and stood frozen like fossils. In stark contrast to the earlier uproar, under the great tent, everything had fallen silent as if in a faint. All that happened was greasy sweat slowly oozing from their countless palms.

A long freight train finally passed in front of the car carrying Akechi Kogorō and young Kamiya. No sooner had the striped railroad crossing barrier smoothly risen than the waiting cluster of cars and bicycles began jostling forward. “Tch! Kept me waiting exactly three damn minutes.” The driver clicked his tongue and stepped on the starter. With a grinding noise, gasoline fumes flowed back into the car. Then, as if shoving aside pesky bicycles, the vehicle crossed over the uneven railroad tracks.

Akechi, pale-faced, continued to stare fixedly ahead and said nothing more. His entire body was trembling uncontrollably, and it did not seem to be solely due to the car’s vibrations. The right hand that had been thrust into his pocket shot out onto his knee almost unconsciously. That hand was gripping a single Colt pistol tightly enough to grow damp with sweat. Young Kamiya glanced sideways at this eerie weapon and stared fixedly at it but said nothing. He remembered how, earlier, when Akechi had bound the giant subordinate of the "Human Leopard," he had taken this pistol from the man’s pocket and slipped it into Akechi’s own pocket.

The car once again accelerated to a terrifying speed, overtaking the vehicles ahead one by one. As far as the eye could see stretched a flat, straight highway, and in the distant sky beyond, an ad balloon floated up like a jellyfish in the atmosphere, appearing as a small speck. Under the round balloon, something like red dots fluttered. It must be advertising text. But the car was moving at breakneck speed. In moments, those red dots shrank to the size of seven-point type, then gradually grew to eight-point, nine-point, and soon expanded enough to be clearly legible even from the swaying car.

“Beast Battle...Z Circus” Ah, that was the ad balloon of their destination, Z Circus. Beneath that balloon, a tent-show performance must have undoubtedly been underway.

In the stage cage, the bear's pelt had nearly all peeled away. As easily as stripping an orange peel, without any resistance at all... Just what kind of spectacle was unfolding here? The hushed multitude could no longer trust their own eyes. Was this truly happening before them? Or were they seeing some monstrous hallucination? Could such an absurd event really transpire in the actual world?

In the cage, even the very tiger that had caused such a bizarre incident stood dumbfounded—rather, cowered in fear—having retreated to one corner and curled up into itself. All they could see was a ghostly figure in the center of the cage—upper body pure white, lower body jet-black—standing upright. But what an alluringly beautiful specter it was. The white, smooth thing that had emerged from within the bear’s pelt was human skin. Moreover, it was indeed the skin of a young and beautiful woman.

Disheveled hair, a tear-soaked face, her chest and arms—her upper body was fully exposed. Fortunately, the thick bear pelt remained clinging to her lower body, so the woman did not reach the point of exposing her shame above it. After all, the bear too had been nothing more than a stuffed specimen. It was nothing more than a contrivance that had wrapped around a living, breathing beauty. However, the spectators, their souls stolen by this daylight apparition, could not immediately comprehend what they were witnessing. If there were such a thing as a mermaid of the land, this was literally it. It could only be perceived as a hybrid of beauty and beast—a mysteriously beautiful half-human, half-beast specter.

The beautiful specter smiled alluringly. No—with a smile-like mouth, she was crying and screaming. Until she first stood up, she had been unconscious from the anesthetic, but when she abruptly 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 frantically. Fleeing frantically, she cried out for help. The crying voice from within that costume felt as if it came from far away, and since earlier, it had been giving the spectators a peculiar sense of unease.

Some in the crowd had realized it, while others had not. But what they all uniformly recalled was Mr. Ōyama Henry’s mysterious announcement from earlier. “Beasts cry and scream.” “They go mad and flee in confusion.” “Ah, just like humans—like a fragile, beautiful woman—they cry and scream for help.” “What beautiful yet gruesome spectacle will unfold before your very eyes, I wonder.” “Savage, gruesome, bizarre, and grotesque—a spectacle beyond even your wildest nightmares, ladies and gentlemen!”

They recalled those bizarre, incomprehensible phrases of that nature. That was it. That was what it had meant all along. So the bear pelt being torn off and the beautiful woman bursting out from inside must have all been planned in advance. “Eat or be eaten”—they had plastered such blustering advertisements everywhere, but in reality, perhaps this lascivious farce was the true gimmick behind this attraction’s conception.

But what a magnificent actress this female beast tamer was, performing as a half-human, half-beast! And what about that terrifyingly lifelike expression of fear? What a beautiful soprano’s wail that was!

The spectators were already entranced. They couldn’t even utter a word. They even forgot to clap their hands. Swallowing dryly again and again, they stared wide-eyed, mouths agape, entranced by the famous actress’s life-or-death performance. Thus began the astonishing dance of terror of the alluring half-human, half-beast. Her legs staggered, her chest heaved with violent breaths, and her voice was already hoarse. “Help… Help…” In unison with her eyes bulging in fear, a scream pleading for salvation burst forth from the very depths of her being.

The ferocious tiger did not remain curled up forever. He finally stood up from the corner and began circling suspiciously around this beautiful human-beast. The naked woman thrust both hands forward as if to fend it off, turned her face toward where the tiger walked, and spun her body while staggering. She no longer had strength to cry out. She could not tear her eyes away from the terrifying beast. Like a mouse mesmerized by a cat, she lacked strength to tear her gaze from her opponent's terrifying visage.

The circle traced by the tiger gradually tightened. And then, occasionally stopping, as if to tease, it would raise its front leg and try to touch the woman’s body. Each time, a blood-curdling scream would resound, piercing the spectators to their core. After repeating this many times, at last, the tiger’s sharp claws touched the beauty’s shoulder. Instantly, fresh blood seeped out and slid smoothly down the pale skin. And that crimson, like long yarn, made the pale skin of the half-human, half-beast stand out with blinding vividness.

A roar of laughter erupted overhead.

The spectators remained silent. Under the big tent, it was as silent as a graveyard. But within that silence, a ghostly, intense suspicion seemed to begin drifting.

“Could this really be part of the act?” “Could a performance ever achieve such a terrifyingly realistic expression?” “First of all, no matter how much this is for show, it’s beyond common sense to remain calm after having such terrible wounds inflicted on beautiful skin.”

“Wait—that woman might not be any beast tamer. She could just be some untrained girl.” “Then—good God—what horror has begun here!” “This is murder before a massive crowd!” “And not just murder—the cruelest kind! Toying with her inch by inch under fangs!”

As such judgment had begun to vaguely resurface in the spectators’ minds, a man’s laughter suddenly rained down from somewhere high above. It was a dry, rasping, yet brazenly unrestrained roar of laughter.

Countless faces looked up at the ceiling in unison.

On the ceiling hung a whitish tent resembling an overcast sky. Directly beneath it, logs bound with coarse rope crisscrossed chaotically. Perched on one log like a lone sparrow was a human figure. The figure gazed down at the tragic stage below and guffawed uproariously, as though overcome by perverse amusement. Though the man’s features remained indistinct at that distance, the spectators clearly saw his round eyes blazing blue like a beast’s. Those eyes glowed with phosphorescent light. At last, he had revealed himself.

When the crowd saw this, they plunged into an even more frenzied panic. The timid among them felt an overwhelming urge to stampede out of the tent.

In the stage cage, the beautiful half-human, half-beast had now exhausted all strength and lay collapsed limply without moving. She must have lost consciousness. Even as the tiger’s snout pressed right before her eyes, she made no sound, nor did she even twitch a muscle. On her beautiful white wax-like skin, a single stream of blood had coiled like a red snake. The face of the Beast Tamer standing beside the cage was dull black with excitement, his grand general’s mustache quivering with violent emotion, his round eyes crimson with blood. He continued to madly swing the whip he held through the air.

The tempestuous whooshing sounds agitated the blood-starved tiger all the more. He let out a single loud roar toward the spectators, then suddenly planted his two front legs on the collapsed beauty’s chest and tried to sink his fangs into her throat—this time, into the throat of a living human. With a snap—a single contraction of its neck and jaw muscles—and it would all be over. A single human life would be extinguished. Among the spectators, there was not one who still believed this to be mere acting. Countless faces turned pale in an instant and involuntarily averted their eyes from the stage. They could not bear to look directly at the far too gruesome spectacle about to unfold next. The women spectators covered their eyes with both hands.

Dear readers, our heroine Mrs. Fumiyo Akechi’s life now hung on a single contraction of the ferocious tiger’s muscles. As you have already surmised, dear readers, the Human Leopard father and son had kidnapped the beautiful Mrs. Akechi, clad her in a bear pelt, and were audaciously attempting to carry out a demonic lynching—a sight too gruesome to behold—before the public’s very eyes.

The "Human Leopard" clung to the ceiling log. Endō and his father—the latter disguised as beast tamer Mountain Henry, brandishing a whip—exchanged furtive glances from several yards above and below, nodding in agreement that their scheme had succeeded. And the father’s whip cracked louder still, while the Human Leopard’s laughter grew increasingly brazen.

At that moment. The spectators felt a momentary impulse that seemed to pierce through the very core of their minds. Huh? What’s going on? Ah, she must have been killed. While imagining the tiger’s bloodied jaws, yet driven by morbid curiosity, they turned their averted eyes in unison toward the stage. What on earth had happened? The one killed was not the human—it was the tiger. He lay limp, a single stream of blood dripping from the crown of his head. He no longer had the strength to struggle. He likely breathed his last in an instant.

The beautiful half-human, half-beast remained unconscious; aside from a claw mark on her shoulder, she was unharmed, having narrowly escaped the tiger's jaws.

The laughter atop the log stopped abruptly. Mr. Mountain Henry’s whip ceased moving. He did not know what was happening and was gazing dumbfounded at the spectators.

Then, within his field of vision, there was a person pushing through the crowd and advancing forward. It was Akechi Kogorō in workman’s attire. It was Kamiya, the young man. And then came a group of uniformed and plainclothes police officers. Needless to say, the marksman who had shot the ferocious tiger at the critical moment was none other than Akechi. From the Colt pistol gripped in his right hand, a wisp of 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 Z Circus’s entrance gate, they had already gotten out of the car and were lying in wait for his arrival. “It’s Mr. Akechi! “It’s Mr. Akechi!” Though disguised, the crowd’s sharp eyes prevailed—from somewhere in the stands arose voices praising the famous detective. They were well aware of the conflict between Akechi Kogorō and the “Human Leopard” through newspaper articles. They had also just read about Mrs. Akechi’s kidnapping in that morning’s paper. With this detective storming in alongside such a formidable police force, there could be no doubt—the fiend called the Human Leopard lurked within this very tent. No—that beauty who had nearly become tiger prey inside the cage could only be Mrs. Fumiyo Akechi. Ah—what horrifying scene had they stumbled upon! Perceptive individuals immediately grasped the truth of it all and could not suppress their shivering.

The father of the "Human Leopard," disguised as Mountain Henry, noticed Akechi’s presence and instantly paled, bracing himself to flee—but the swift police officers gave him no chance, thundering onto the stage to surround him. But true to his monstrous nature, he straightened up sharply from his fleeing posture and, trembling his general’s mustache, laughed a soundless laugh. Then, very slowly, he slipped his hand into his trouser pocket, pulled out a small pistol, and thrust it right under the noses of the police officers.

By then, the venue had descended into tsunami-like chaos. The wailing of crowds surging toward the entrance gates, an old man screaming beneath a domino-collapse of bodies, women and children weeping and shrieking—amidst this cacophony, one shrill roar after another reverberated across the space. “The Human Leopard!” “The Human Leopard’s over there!” “Ah—he’s escaping! “The Human Leopard’s fleeing onto the roof!” When people looked up, the owner of that earlier laughter was darting across the crisscrossed ceiling logs with black-cat swiftness, moving faster than eyes could follow. Now scaling vertically, now sliding diagonally, now tightrope-walking sideways—clambering from log to log—he finally slipped through a tear in the tent fabric and emerged onto the roof.

Across the translucent white canvas, a strange black shadow—indistinguishable as animal or human—curled up and ran onward, as if flying, as if leaping.

Now, the large crowd remaining in the venue were all enemies of the "Human Leopard." They jeered in unison at the fleeing demon. The more impetuous among them, two or three at a time, bravely clambered up the logs and began to chase the "Human Leopard." The Z Circus members would not be left behind either. Four or five stagehands and aerial acrobats, under Akechi Kogorō’s direction, scampered up toward the ceiling like monkeys.

Z Circus and the Human Leopard father and son had no particular deep connection. The parent and child, who had brought along two beasts while claiming to have returned from the West, had applied to join Z Circus on terms highly favorable to the troupe; unaware they were murderers, Z Circus had merely accepted their application and conducted publicity for them accordingly. Therefore, all members of Z Circus were now by no means allies of the Human Leopard.

“Surround the outside! Surround the outside! The Human Leopard intends to jump off the roof and escape!”

Even without needing the crowd’s shouts to alert him, Akechi had already made his preparations. Part of the police force and Z Circus men rushed outside the tent to deploy a skirmish line around the hut. Akechi himself was about to follow them out. He intended to stand in the outer square and oversee the rooftop pursuit. But as he hurried toward the entrance, a gunshot suddenly rang out from the stage behind him, followed by an explosion of furious curses from the crowd.

With a start, he turned around—and before his eyes, a tragedy had already ended. The bullfighter with a stern general’s mustache had collapsed awkwardly, blood flowing from the gold braid on his chest. He had used the pistol with which he had been threatening the surrounding police officers to shoot through his own chest. Perhaps realizing his luck had run out, he met an end uncharacteristically honorable for a demon.

At that very moment, once again, a squad of police officers came rushing in through the entrance. “Oh, Akechi! Is your wife alright?”

Standing at the front, Inspector Tsunekawa was the first to ask that. "Yeah, just made it in time."

Akechi jerked his chin toward one side of the stage. There, by the members of the circus troupe, Mrs. Fumiyo—rescued from the cage—lay unconscious and limp atop a pile of zabuton cushions. “But unfortunately, one of the criminals has committed suicide.” “Ah, he’s collapsed over there… So that’s Endō’s father, then.”

“That’s right. He had disguised himself as a beast tamer.”

“And what about the son?” “He escaped onto the roof. Look at that!” On the ceiling of the large tent Akechi pointed to, pursuers scrambled about in a grotesque shadow play of clashing figures. “Let’s go outside.” Akechi, Inspector Tsunekawa, and the newly arrived officers hurried through the entrance and raced to the square behind the show tent. There, a seething crowd had formed—police deployed earlier, Z Circus members, and lingering spectators who’d missed their chance to flee.

Akechi and the others stood on a slightly elevated spot behind the crowd and monitored the fierce pursuit unfolding across the sloping surface of the tent roof. The Human Leopard, clad in a jet-black suit, reverted to his true nature—crouched on all fours—and bounded recklessly across the vast white expanse of the tent. But among the pursuers were two or three master acrobats whose skills rivaled those of wild beasts. Moreover, the one fleeing was alone, while those in pursuit numbered close to ten. Even the Human Leopard was gradually being driven step by step into a corner of the roof.

“At last his luck has finally run out. He’ll jump down, or else...” At the very moment Inspector Tsunekawa muttered those words—as if he had predicted it—the black leopard in the sky made a magnificent leap from the edge of the roof. The black crouched body contracted like an inchworm, then suddenly stretched out, drawing a magnificent arc through the air.

When they saw this, the crowd on the ground let out a roar and scrambled to flee, but strangely, no matter how much time passed, the black leopard did not come crashing down. “Ah, the balloon!” “He escaped to the balloon!”

At someone’s shout, the people all looked up at the sky once again in unison. And then—what was this? Despite there being places to flee, the Human Leopard clung to the rope of the advertising balloon and was dangling in midair outside the roof. The advertising balloon swayed in the wind as it floated its silver bulk high in the distant sky. Beneath it, crimson letters reading *Beast Battle… Z Circus* fluttered limply, while a single rope streamed smoothly down from there to the winch for balloon ascension—precisely located in the corner of the square where Akechi and the others stood.

“Reel the winch! Reel the winch!”

The people shouted as they rushed toward the winch, joining forces three, four, five at a time—heave-ho! heave-ho!—and began reeling in the advertising balloon’s rope. Alas, even the unparalleled murderer "Human Leopard" had no means of escape left. As the winch rotated, the balloon’s rope rapidly shrank. And when the balloon was finally lowered to the ground, even the Human Leopard could not escape his fate of arrest. The grand finale of this great chase was already approaching within five minutes—three minutes.

But the Human Leopard, clinging to the rope, kept climbing higher and higher, refusing to yield. For every shaku they reeled in the winch, he rose another shaku. Even when they'd pulled the giant balloon down until it nearly scraped the tent roof, the black leopard still hung suspended in midair. He'd already scaled past the four characters of "Z Circus" and now clung beside the massive 大 character in "Beast Battle." "Hey! Quit wasting our time! Get down here now!"

The police officers on the ground smirked irritably and shouted up at the criminal in midair. “Wahahaha! Gentlemen, you should be the ones to cease this futile effort!” The reply from above drifted faintly through the wind. “Ah! Akechi! So Tsunekawa’s there too. Nice work there. But you’re just wasting your energy again!” The Human Leopard dangled before the crimson “BIG” character and hurled brazen taunts.

“Bastard! Save your excuses for later!” “Get down here now!” “Your end won’t be pretty!” The police officers retorted defiantly. “Hahahaha! You think you’ve caught me?” “What a joke!” “Why? Because I’ll never be caught!” No sooner had he shouted than something glinted in Endō’s right hand midair. A large knife. The blade sawed violently across the rope near his waist—and with a snap, the tether parted. The balloon, no longer anchored by the winch and straining men below, shot skyward like a rifle bullet with terrifying speed.

“Hahahaha! Farewell, Akechi! Farewell, Tsunekawa! Hahahaha!”

Along with the soaring balloon, the demon’s laughter trailed off with a hiss, vanishing into the distant sky. 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 even that disappeared from view, leaving nothing to behold but a silver object about the size of a rubber ball threading through white clouds at the wind’s whim as it drifted away toward Tokyo Bay.

The next day, a fishing boat from the Sagami Peninsula discovered a monstrous silver form resembling a giant octopus-like creature floating far offshore. Upon investigation, it was confirmed to be Z Circus's advertising balloon—but as for the Human Leopard Endō, no report was ever received of his corpse being washed ashore on any coast. Had he vanished into seaweed debris on the ocean floor, sharing the balloon's ill fate? Or had he been rescued by some passing ship through a stroke of fate, and was he now in some forgotten corner of this world, making those phosphorescent eyes gleam as he plotted his next evil deed?

But from then on, for over a year, we heard nothing of his whereabouts. Even if he had survived, it had to be acknowledged that the beast-man’s evil had first and foremost been eradicated from this world.

Thus, the reputation of private detective Akechi Kogorō rose to unparalleled heights, and the story of his beautiful wife Fumiyo’s strange fate became a topic of conversation everywhere, profoundly moving people for a long time. Only one thing remained—a mystery forever unsolved: how had the monster known as the Human Leopard, with its eyes emitting an eerie phosphorescence, fangs as sharp as a wild beast’s, and tongue bearing feline barbs, come into existence in this world? After the incident, theories of human-beast hybridity spread widely through society. Endō was said to be a child of hell, born where he should never have been born. Their reasoning hinged on vague conjectures—why had Endō’s father loved leopards so intensely? Why had he grieved so deeply when forced to shoot one? And why had he felt compelled to steal another leopard from Asakusa Zoo a year after losing his cherished animal? Needless to say, these were mere conjecture—conjecture unacknowledged by science.

There may have been a terrifying secret that only Endō’s father held. But that father, Endō, was no longer among the living. With his suicide, the bizarre incidents of the Human Leopard were left as an eternal mystery unsolved through the ages.

Well then, what on earth became of the leopard stolen from Asakusa Zoo? Dear readers, you must undoubtedly be curious about this. But that leopard shared Father Endō’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 disguised as one through makeup. The culprits must have been utterly perplexed about how to handle the stolen leopard. Keeping such an eye-catching creature concealed from public view was entirely impossible. They needed to hide the leopard. But how? The magician had indeed devised a truly outlandish method for this purpose.

They had used human hair dye to skillfully dye the leopard's spots, painting tiger stripes across the animal's entire body. 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 reason to suspect anything. They took that tiger and the fake bear containing Mrs. Fumiyo, joining Z Circus through their connections. Naturally, they never let any circus members approach either their tiger or the bear. In this way, their twofold and threefold objectives were accomplished. Not only had Endō and his father safely hidden themselves along with the leopard, but they had even confined the kidnapped Mrs. Fumiyo within a bear cage completely invisible to human eyes. But that wasn't all. Under the guise of a beast battle spectacle, they managed to stage an utterly cruel performance—making Mrs. Fumiyo be devoured by a leopard before an ostentatiously large crowd. In their demonic vanity and fascination with murderous theatrics, they appeared half-mad, seemingly having forgotten even their own peril.

The "Human Leopard" incident was, among the many criminal cases handled by Akechi Kogorō, the most bizarre in nature. If only for the fact that the victim had been his beloved wife Mrs. Fumiyo, it left him with a long-unforgettable impression. “You know, that eerie laughter of Endō’s—that bastard who rode the balloon—mocking us from up in the sky… It just won’t leave my ears.” “I see it in my dreams.” “I will probably never forget that voice for the rest of my life, you know.”

After that, every time Akechi met Inspector Tsunekawa, he would invariably bring that up.