To the good Saboten Iyokawa,
I send this email to you, who is hailed as the Locked Room Sage, to ask for you to commit murder. However, this is not a tragically beautiful revenge drama. Nor is it a theatrical crime filled with ambition that will shake the foundations of society. It is filthy, vile murder, painted in self-interest, pitilessly common crime of the sort found around the world. I am sure this request holds no appeal to you, a master murderer who has created many artistic locked rooms. So I wish to offer you at least an appealing financial incentive.
I am currently engaged in a battle for an inheritance. If I win this battle, I will receive an inheritance totaling nearly ten billion yen. I would like to offer you 20% of that as your fee for my success. Would that amount to around a billion yen?
Though my request is quite rude, I would be pleased if you accept. I look forward to hearing your reply.
When I went to the literature club's room after school, I saw a beautiful girl with black hair looking through a part-time job magazine with a serious look on her face. She was a stunning beauty, and her well-formed eyebrows were scrunching and twisting as she asked herself “What should I do?” I sat opposite her, wondering what she was worried about. Then, she – Shitsuri Mitsumura – looked up from the magazine and said “Oh, Kuzushiro.” Kasumi Kuzushiro. That's my name.
Mitsumura and I are in the same year and are both members of the literature club, and we've been best friends since middle school. That being said, we don't do much in the way of literature-y activities, then or now. Mitsumura and I are the only two members of the club, so it will probably be disbanded after we graduate. I find that sad, but at the same time, I don't think the club is worth preserving. All we do is meet after school and laze around.
Currently, however, Mitsumura was flipping through some literature as though trying to embody the spirit of the literature club (even if it was a job magazine). As she once again muttered “What should I do?”, I couldn't help but ask.
“Why are you reading a part-time job magazine?”
Mitsumura looked up from the magazine and asked “Isn't that obvious?”
“I'm going to get a part-time job over summer vacation. I'm looking for work.”
“Even though you have entrance exams?”
I had to ask. It's July now, and summer vacation is right around the corner. But as of right now, we're still third year high school students, which means we have to take entrance exams. I don't think we have time for part-time jobs.
I thought that, but Mitsumura scoffed and gave me a haughty look.
“You think I need to study for my entrance exams?”
She seemed confident. But should she have? No matter how smart she is, I don't think she'll pass without some studying.
When I told her that, she looked extremely annoyed and said “Okay, fine, then I'll study seriously starting in autumn” like the prototypical bad student. Then, as if to announce that our talk was over, she quickly turned her eyes back to the job magazine. I looked at her and her attitude and asked something that had been on my mind for a while.
“But why a magazine? Who uses something like that for job hunting nowadays?”
Normally, you'd check on a job recruitment website or something like that.
“Well, I am an old-fashioned lady,” said Mitsumura as she flipped through the magazine. “And that old-fashioned view is what makes me so popular with the boys.”
“I don't think that's why you're popular.”
It was true that Mitsumura was popular with guys, but it was entirely because of her face. Her personality was awful. She was a woman with no attractive qualities beyond her appearance.
She closed the job magazine with a clap of pages, put it in her bag, and took out a paperback instead. Apparently looking for work was too much work. She gently tucked her long black hair behind her ear and flipped through the book. The novel's title was The Locked Garden Murders. The author's name was Fuichirou Monokaki.
“Oh, Fuichirou Monokaki.”
That was the name of one of Japan's leading mystery novelists, as well as the head of the Monokaki Family, the family that dominated Japan's locked rooms mysteries.
Yes, the Monokaki Family ruled modern locked rooms with an iron fist.
Ten years ago, the magazine This Locked Room Mystery is Amazing! began publication. As the name would suggest, it was a ranking of mystery stories that involved locked rooms. There was a related publication, This Alibi Mystery is Amazing!, but unfortunately it was out of print. The Monokaki Family – that family of genius authors – had nearly monopolized the This Locked Room Mystery is Amazing! rankings for the past five years. In other words, it was fair to say that the Japanese locked room scene revolved around the Monokaki Family. In particular, the novels written by the family head Fuichirou were said to be modern locked room mystery fiction itself.
However, Fuichirou had passed away about a month ago. So maybe I should have been calling him the former head of the family. Although Fuichirou had been a bit overweight, he was still young, only in his fifties, and the sudden death of the great author had sent shockwaves through the public.
“So, as a tribute to him... here” Mitsumura said, holding up Fuichirou's book. “Though to be honest, I'm not that big of a fan. I prefer Teika Ojou.”
“So do I.”
I agreed with Mitsumura. Teika Ojou was called the Young Empress of Japanese Mystery, and had ranked #1 in the This Locked Room Mystery is Amazing! rankings three times in the past five years. The other two times had, of course, been taken by members of the Monokaki Family, so you could say the currently state of locked room mysteries was a battle between the Monokaki Family and Teika Ojou. However, it was only mystery fans and a few select figures in the wider literary world who viewed things like that, and the two sides were actually close, with rumor even having it that Teika was currently living in the Monokaki mansion.
As soon as I got home from school, I rummaged through the bookshelf in my room and pulled out several Fuichirou Monokaki books. After my talk with Mitsumura in the club room, I had a sudden urge to reread them.
I looked at the covers of the paperbacks I held in my hands. The Cardinal's Locked Room, Locked Room on Summer Vacation, and I Killed Someone, So I Decided To Make The Crime Scene Into A Locked Room – Masterpieces all, says I. So, which one to read? I decided to go with Locked Room on Summer Vacation, since it fit the season-
At that exact moment, the intercom rang, pulling me back to reality. What a rude guest, interrupting a man's reading time. Declaring them guilty, I sentenced them to “having to deal with me playing dumb”. I ignored the visitor and began flipping through my paperback.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong,
“.......”
Dingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdongdingdong
“SHUT THE HELL UP!”
Oh my god, that was annoying! I stormed to the entrance, ready to give them a piece of my mind, and threw open the door.
“What is the matter with you!? Were you raised in a barn!? By bonobos!?”
“Hi, Kasumi!”
Standing there was my childhood friend, Yozuki Asahina. I was stunned for a moment, but then I understood.
I'd always suspected Yozuki was raised by some species of the ape family.
I collapsed to my knees. Yozuki tilted her head to one side and asked “What's wrong, Kasumi? Are you that happy to see me?” No, I hadn't fainted from joy.
I glared resentfully at the beauty before me.
Yozuki is a third year university student, three years older than me, and to me she is a childhood friend and the older sister I never had. But she was also a bit like a younger sister, in that she was an endless source of trouble. Yozuki's brain was even fluffier than her fluffy appearance suggested, and that fluffiness sometimes led to her blundering into trouble.
That was why I already had the feeling I was about to get into trouble today. Cautiously, I asked
“What do you want, Yozuki?”
“I'm glad you asked!”
Yozuki gently cleared her throat. Then, as though she'd rehearsed it, she declared:
“Kasumi, I think I'm going to go look for New Nessie.”
Oh. So she'd finally lost it.
“...New Nessie.”
“You don't know? It's a type of UMA (Unidentified Mysterious Animal). New Nessie is the legitimate, creator-approved successor to the original Nessie. It's like the Nu Gundam to Nessie's original Gundam.”
Was that right? I didn't know much about Gundam or New Nessie, so I didn't really know. More importantly, the question was why she was looking for New Nessie.
“You know, I really like UMA. I've been reading the occult magazine Mu for as long as I can remember.”
Yes, I'd heard her brag(?) about that several times. She'd previously told me that she was going to hunt for yeti and chupacabras, and damn her, she'd actually gone.
I swallowed a sigh.
“Well, good luck with that,” I told her, forcing sincerity into my voice. “I'm sure it'll be tough to find New Nessie, but I hope you make it back safely.”
Please don't let this be our last conversation. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my childhood friend to a New Nessie hunt.
Seeing me looking so depressed, Yozuki let out an exasperated sigh.
“What are you talking about, Kasumi? You're coming with me.”
I wondered what in the world she was talking about.
“...Are you asking me to accompany you to Loch Ness?”
Look, she's my friend, but there are still limits to what I'd do for her. Seeing the look of astonishment on my face, Yozuki explained.
“What are you talking about, Kasumi? New Nessie doesn't live in Loch Ness, it lives off the coast of New Zealand.”
Oh. I see. So it doesn't live in Loch Ness.
I asked again.
“...Are you asking me to accompany you to New Zealand?”
“No, that isn't it, Kasumi. We aren't going to New Zealand, we're going to Okutama.”
Okay, now she'd lost it... No, the signs had been there for a while now.
I rubbed my eyes. Her confident face remained in place. Looked like she was serious. I hoped there was some sort of mistake.
I asked her straight.
“So, why are we going to Okutama to look for New Nessie?”
“Well, obviously, because New Nessie is there.”
She said it as though I'd asked something obvious like “Are there mountains there?”
“...There's no way there's a New Nessie in Okutama.”
“Yes there is. Because there's the Tama New Nessie.”
“The Tama New Nessie.”
It sounded more like Tama New Town's ill-advised new mascot.
“You didn't know, Kasumi? There's an urban legend that there's a lake deep in the mountains of Okutama, and that lake is connected to the Pacific Ocean by an undersea tunnel,” Yozuki explained, sounding proud of herself. “So it's possible to swim all the way from the coast of New Zealand to the mountains of Okutama.”
“So that's how New Nessie came to live in that lake?”
“Yeah, it's possible.”
It really wasn't. First off, if you started talking about undersea tunnels, then anything was possible. All sorts of oceanic UMA, from krakens to mermen, would all be monster mashing in Okutama.
“So, Kasumi,” Yozuki said, her eyes a-sparkle. “Let's go! To Okutama! To look for the Tama New Nessie!”
“...Sure.”
I quietly shut the door.
It goes without saying that it isn't sane to go out looking for New Nessies during summer vacation. And it especially isn't sane to go out looking for New Nessies while you're supposed to be studying for entrance exams.
But I think it's precisely because it's summer vacation of our entrance exam year that we should go to Okutama and look for New Nessie. We should all aspire to have an experience like that. I'm not just saying that because I feel like slacking off and don't want to study. I understand that, as an outsider to my rich, complex inner life, it might look that way, but that's not it.
And so, on an August day, Yozuki and I arrived in Okutama to look for New Nessie as a “break” for studying for exams. I had blatantly lied to my parents, telling them I was going to an exam prep training camp, so now all I could do was pray that they never found out.
“Now, onward! To find New Nessie!”
Yozuki made that energetic declaration as we stood at the entrance to the forest, then she put down her backpack and rummaged through it. What she retrieved was two L-shaped metal rods. Yozuki held one in each hand. Surely they weren't...
“Are those...?”
“Dowsing rods.”
“I knew it!”
Was she planning to use dowsing to find New Nessie? What a mess. Her pseudoscience pathways were extremely congested.
“Now, now, never fear,” Yozuki said, puffing out her chest. “Your big sis's going to take care of everything.”
“That just makes me more nervous.”
“The anxiety is part of the adventure. Well, let's get going. Whoa! I'm already getting a reaction.”
Yozuki's two metal rods swung around to point north.
“It's this way.”
“Really?” I was skeptical.
“There can be no doubt. Just follow me and you'll see how wrong I am!”
Yozuki said that confidently and marched right off. With a reluctant sigh, I followed her.
It had been five hours since we entered the forest. The sun rose high, we ate our lunches, and the sun sank low. I looked at my watch. It was three in the afternoon.
“Arere~? That's weird,” Yozuki said, clutching her dowsing rods. “Arere~? That's weird. Something about this isn't right.”
Yozuki had spontaneously broken out into a Conan impression. After wandering in circles a few times, she fixed her gaze on me. Making a serious expression, she told me:
“Kasumi.”
“What is it?”
“I think we're lost.”
“Obviously!”
I had a pretty good idea of that already! We'd been wandering around in a circle for the past hour!
I once again gave Yozuki a glare full of resentment.
“You told me to follow you so I could see how wrong you were.”
“But I didn't think how wrong I was would be 'very'!” Yozuki said, the corners of her mouth sagging. “I can't believe this, these dowsing rods were expensive.”
Apparently she'd bought fake dowsing rods. Well, it's not like real dowsing rods would have changed the outcome any.
“Anyway, it looks like we won't be able to make it to the inn I booked for us today. And descending the mountain will be tough.”
I nodded at Yozuki's words. It was already 3:00 P.M. And we were pretty deep in the mountains. Even if it was summer, going any further would only make things worse. If we tried, we'd get seriously lost – or maybe even end up dead.
“Welp, nothing else to do. Let's camp out here for the night,” Yozuki said briskly as she set her backpack on the ground. She then picked up a broken tree branch from the ground nearby. It was long enough to be worthy of the name “stick”.
I gulped.
“Why do you need a stick?”
“Obviously,” Yozuki said, “to catch wild rabbits.”
Seriously?
Yozuki swung the stick as though she were at kendo practice. At that exact moment, a rustling came from the bushes behind her.
“I found one!”
Yozuki charged at the bush, stick in hand. She raised it high. That was when something much larger than a rabbit leapt from the bush. It was a handsome boy in his mid teens with light brown hair. His limbs were as long and lean as a model's, and he stood over 190 cm tall.
The handsome boy opened his eyes wide and picked up a thick branch that had fallen at his feet, using it to block the blow of Yozuki's stick. He then twirled his wrist and swung the branch down at Yozuki's head. Yozuki jumped backwards just in time, dodging the blow by a hair's breadth. Then she clicked her tongue and looked at the boy in front of her.
“This guy... He's pretty strong!”
That wasn't the issue here.
I gave Yozuki a chop to the back of the head, then grabbed her by the collar and dragged her away from the boy. Then I bowed my head.
“We're sorry, we're very sorry.”
“It's alright,” the boy said with a gentle smile. “I was afraid you were bandits.”
“You might not have been entirely wrong.”
Although it wasn't your things we were going to steal, but your heart... or your life, in Yozuki's case.
Yozuki, still holding her head in pain from my chop, gave a sincere apology, saying “Uuh... I'm sorry.”
Seeing us, the boy tilted his head and asked,
“By the way, why are you all here?”
“Well, actually, some things happened...”
Yozuki explained our situation to the boy, still holding the back of her head. When she was finished, the boy said “I see.”
“So in short, you came to Okutama looking for New Nessie and ended up getting lost.”
It was a deranged explanation. Wouldn't hearing a story like that just make us look even more suspicious?
But contrary to my expectations, the boy spoke, looking serious.
“Yes, I'd heard about that, too. There is a lake deep in the mountains of Okutama that connects to the Pacific Ocean through an undersea tunnel.” He'd heard that before? “The sun will be setting soon enough, so it might be hard to get to the inn where you're planning to stay. ...By the way, where were you planning to stay?”
“Um, an inn called Kikyo-kan in Hinadori Town,” Yozuki said.
“Oh, that's quite far from here. There's no way you can get there today.”
Apparently we'd gotten lost enough to wander far from our original destination.
Seeing us as we were, the boy nodded, went “Hmm,” then suggested to Yozuki:
“Then why don't you stay at the inn in my village tonight? Of course, you'll still need to pay.”
“The inn in your village?”
“As it happens,” the boy said somewhat proudly, “I live in a nearby village called Yatsuwako Village. Ah, apologies for the late introduction. My name is Camembert Monokaki. As you can see, I'm just a pretty face.”
The surname “Monokaki” caught my attention for a moment, but there was something even more interesting. I was flabbergasted. This guy's first name... was Camembert?
“Yes, my first name is Camembert,” he said with a carefree laugh. “I doubt you've realized yet, but the name 'Camembert' comes from Camembert cheese.”
No, that much was obvious. The problem was that I'd just learned that there were parents in this world who would name their child after cheese.
“There were certain circumstances,” Camembert shrugged. “The truth is, I am the child of my father and his mistress. At one point, my father carried on an affair with an Italian exchange student.”
I see, that explains why he's named Camembert. If his mother was Italian, there's nothing unusual about him being named like that. ...No, wait, it was still extremely unnatural. After all, Camembert is French, not Italian.
And so, when his mother returned to Japan, he was taken in by the Monokaki Family. His father, Fuichirou, had already lost his wife, so there were apparently no strong objections to his taking in the illegitimate child.
After telling us his life story, Camembert asked us “By the way, what are your names?” We'd finally been asked to introduce ourselves. So Yozuki and I coughed and told him our names.
“Kasumi Kuzushiro.”
“Yozuki Asahina.”
“Kasumi Kuzushiro and Yozuki Asahina... You both have strange names.”
I didn't want to hear that from Camembert Monokaki. But Camembert completely ignored our feelings and shook his head. Then he stroked his light brown hair.
“Well, we should get going before the sun sets.”
Camembert said that and started walking. I asked his back
“Why were you on this mountain, Camembert?”
“Oh, I was hunting for wild rabbits.” He took a knife from his pocket.
“W-Wild rabbits.” Was this guy for real?
“Yes, they've the village's specialty,” Camembert said with a gentle smile. “But unfortunately, I couldn't find any. So it looks like we won't be able to eat the village specialty wild rabbit sashimi tonight.”
“You eat it as sashimi?” Yozuki said, shocked. “At least make it like a hotpot or something.”
“No, wild rabbit is best when eaten raw. Give it a try and you'll see how wrong I am.”
Yozuki and I exchanged a look. To be honest, I wasn't very eager to try, but hearing him say it so confidently made me a bit interested.
And so, with Camembert as our guide, we set off for the village he called home: Yatsuwako Village.
After about an hour of walking down a mountain path, we came to a one lane road, and after ten minutes of walking along that, we arrived at Yatsuwako Village, where we would be staying the night. To be precise, we arrived at the entrance to Yatsuwako Village. I was surprised by the sight before me enough to let out a gasp. Then, timidly, I asked Camembert something.
“Is this really it?”
“Yes, it's right in here.”
Camembert's answer was fully confident. But I couldn't help but ask “For real?” You might find that strange, but you wouldn't if you could see what I saw. After all, what he'd taken me to wasn't a village, but a huge cavern that looked like a traffic tunnel, carved into the rocky face of a mountain over 1,000 meters above sea level.
“Yatsuwako Village is in the back of this cave. Beyond this entrance is a limestone cavern twenty times the size of the Tokyo Dome – a million square meters in size.”
According to Camembert, the limestone cavern was in the shape of a square, with each side measuring one kilometer. In other words, the cavern had dimensions of 1 km x 1 km. Certainly, that was enough space to build a small village. And, in fact, nearly five hundred villagers lived inside.
“Well, let's go.”
With that, Camembert set off into the cave. Yozuki and I followed behind, somewhat hesitantly.
The cave went on straight for a while, looking exactly like a tunnel, with walls, ceiling, and floor all covered in red bricks. It was like a single, massive brick corridor, about as wide as a two lane road. The ceiling was dimly lit by white LEDs, and the sight of them illuminating pure brick was unique, making it look like a tunnel to another world.
Then, about fifty meters in, we ran into a well-built young man sitting in a chair. He had his back to the tunnel wall and watched us as we passed through. Camembert gave him a quick greeting and explained to Yozuki and I that he was the gatekeeper. “He watches over this tunnel from 3:00 A.M. to 7:00 P.M. There are two gatekeepers, they take turns watching each day.”
That sounded like hard work. Yozuki and I gave him a small bow of appreciation, then kept going down the brick tunnel. Then, after about fifty meters, the ground changed from brick to sand, and about thirty meters after that, we finally reached the end of the tunnel. I reflexively let out a “Whoa!” There was a huge iron door – easily large enough to pass a truck through.
“It looks like a checkpoint.”
Yozuki observed. It certainly did have a similar impression. It wasn't the sort of door you'd ever seen in everyday life.
“You aren't entirely wrong,” said Camembert, smiling at our reactions. “This is the only entrance to the limestone cavern on the village side. In other words, you can't enter or leave the village without passing through here.”
With that, Camembert pressed the red button next to the door. The iron double doors swung open without a sound. So they were automatic.
“By the way, this door can only be opened from 3:00 A.M. to 7:00 P.M., so be careful. They lock after that.”
So in other words, those were the only times you could leave the village. And they were the same as the working hours of the gatekeeper I'd seen in the tunnel. In short, while the door was unlocked, the gatekeeper was always watching over the inside of the tunnel.
As I stood thinking about that, the heavy iron door barring access to the village slowly swung open, revealing the view beyond. Just as he'd said, there was a vast limestone cavern. However, it was even larger than I'd expected.
“Wow,” Yozuki exclaimed. “It's like an underground empire,” she said, giving her honest impression. It was an apt description. It looked like an underground world from a science fiction story.
To start with, the ceiling was extremely far above us. It was about twenty-five meters off the ground. And just like in the tunnel, LED lights hung from the ceiling. But there were countless more of them, and the masses of lights illuminating every corner of the cavern turned it into a mystical world that stole away all sense of reality.
Inside the cavern were numerous buildings, constructed with the same density as an above ground residential area, but with a somewhat unusual shape. They didn't look like buildings from a remote village deep in the mountains or even from the city – each was smooth white rectangular prism.
And their rectangular shapes immediately brought to mind a certain something.
“Boxes?”
I turned my eyes to Camembert as if to check my answer. Yes... they were boxes. Pure white boxes, probably plastered like a storehouse. All of the boxes had fixed windows and iron doors, and looked overall sturdy. The box-shaped homes were lined up in a vast limestone cavern – it truly was an underground empire. It was a fitting site to be called “Yatsuwako Village” – the Village of Eight Boxes.
Camembert gave me a satisfied smile when he saw how overwhelmed I was and said proudly “You're right.”
“This village was originally called Yazuwako Village, from the name of the lord who once ruled this area, Lord Yazu, and the fact that the village is lined with box-shaped houses.”
As I thought “I see,” the explanation raised a new question. Confusion filled my features. How had it gone from Yazuwako Village to Yatsuwako Village?
But before I could ask, Yozuki asked a different question that silenced my doubts. That question being “Why are all the houses in the village shaped like boxes?”, which I had also been curious about, so my question about the village's name faded into the back of my mind.
And with it there, Camembert answered Yozuki's question instead.
“To protect us from the kazeitachi.”
We were both struck dumb. Yozuki tilted her head and asked “Kazeitachi? Not kamaitachi?”
“The kazeitachi is a monster that appears in folklore unique to this region,” Camembert explained. “Like the kamaitachi, it is a beast of the winds that can transform its body into air and infiltrate a house through the tiniest gap. Then, it knocks the residents unconscious, and sometimes even kills them. It's a dangerous monster. So to prevent the kazeitachi from entering, all the houses in the village are made of stone, with their roofs and exterior walls covered in plaster to seal any gaps. Furthermore, their doors are also airtight and made of iron. And because it never rains in Yatsuwako Village, there's no need for sloped roofs... so the buildings naturally ended up in the shape of boxes.”
It was true that, with the village located inside a limestone cave, it was like being under a giant umbrella. Therefore, no matter how severe the storm that came, rain never fell on Yatsuwako Village.
“But,” I asked the most important question, “Why is this village inside a limestone cave in the first place?”
No matter how huge the limestone cave is, it isn't normal to think of building a village inside. It's not like the inhabitants are mole men. The only conclusion was that the village's founders had some pressing reason to migrate to an underground space.
“Actually, nobody knows,” Camembert said nonchalantly. “Some say it was originally a bandit hideout, others that the village was founded by hidden Christians when Christianity was outlawed in Japan during the early Edo period. Since they founded it in such a remote place, there must be some story there, but for whatever reason there are no records of the village's founding at all.”
That was pretty creepy.
“Well, maybe our ancestors were just lazy,” Camembert joked. “The records weren't lost, nobody bothered making them to begin with. Come on, let's go. The inn is close by.”
We walked for two minutes and arrived at the village inn. It appeared to be the only inn in the entire village. The inn was as boxy as everything else, but, naturally, it was much larger than the surrounding houses.
Seeing it, I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't be sleeping on the ground tonight.
“Come on, let's go inside. I'll introduce you to the owner.”
Camembert said that and reached for the door to the inn. Just as he did, a voice called out his name. He turned around and saw two women in their mid-twenties standing there. They were beautiful in completely identical ways. It was obvious they were identical twins. Their hair was alike in length, but one of them wore it in a ponytail and the other had a set of twintails.
They looked at Camembert with tranquil expressions and spoke.
“Thank goodness.” “You're here.” “We wondered where you'd gone.” “We were at a loss.” “But now you're here.” “You're here.”
That was creepy! Why were they taking turns talking? It was hard to actually make sense of what they were saying.
But Camembert was completed unaffected as he replied “Ah, Fuika and Funika,” looking to each of them in turn. It seemed the one with the ponytail was Fuika and the one with the twintails was Funika. Then he tilted his head again and asked “Is something the matter?”
Fuika and Funika responded by puffing their cheeks in sync.
“Something the matter?” “No, that's not it.” “That isn't what we meant.” “We just think it's irresponsible.” “'What?' we hear you ask.” “It's Kyoujirou.” “Remember?” “It's your turn today, Camembert.” “Isn't it?”
Camembert scratched his head and said “Huh? Was it like that?” as he turned back to look at us. He clasped his hands together and said “Sorry.”
“I've got something to take care of, so I have to go. My siblings and I prepare dinner for my brother, and today is my turn to cook.”
Camembert said that, then went with the twins and left us. He whined “Come on, can't you take my place just for today?”, but they rejected him at once.
“Camembert.” “You always say that.” “Every time.” “You're such a slacker.” “At least for today-” “-We wanted you to do it.”
I didn't know what they meant by cooking for one brother, but it was clear that Camembert was a habitual slacker. The twins had gotten fed up and gone to look for him.
Accepting that conclusion, I waved at Camembert's back as he walked away. Then, I was the one to open the door to the inn and step inside.
As soon as we entered the inn, we were greeted by a woman in her thirties clad in a kimono. She was a beautiful woman with a calming aura, who introduced herself as the owner, Manami Okamibara. “The okami (proprietress) Okamibara”, said Yozuki. Yozuki had a habit of using puns and mnemonics to remember people's names. After explaining the situation to Okamibara, she told us there would be no problems with us spending the night, once again filling me with relief.
Even though it was August, for some reason, Hina dolls as used in Girls' Day, on March 3rd, were displayed in the inn's entryway. Moreover, unlike standard Hina dolls, all of the dolls displayed there were clad in a bright shade of sky blue.
“What are these?” I asked.
“Ah, these are Summer Hina dolls,” said Okamibara.
“Summer Hina?”
“Here in Yatsuwako Village, it's customary to display Hina dolls at this time of year. It's said this village was once ruled by a lord who loved the sweet rice crackers eaten on Girls' Day so much that he introduced additional Hina festivals so he would be able to eat them more often. So in addition to Summer Hina dolls, this village also has Autumn Hina dolls and Winter Hina dolls.”
It was a sweet custom, far more than you'd expect from a strange village located inside a cave.
In addition to the Summer Hina dolls, a framed map of Yatsuwako Village was also displayed on the wall. As Camembert had told us, the village was a square, with four corners facing north, south, east, and west. So it might have been more of a diamond than a square, really. Connecting the north and south vertices of the diamond was a massive fissure, dividing the village into east and west halves. In other words, Yatsuwako Village was divided in two, with settlements to the east and west.
“They're called the Eastern Village and the Western Village, respectively. This inn is located in the Western Village.”
Sure enough, looking at the map, the name of the inn was written on the Western Village. And the Western Village and the Eastern Village were connected by a bridge.
“Incidentally, that bridge is made of concrete and is very strong,” said Okamibara. “It doesn't budge, even during an earthquake. In other words, it's a collapse-proof bridge.”
After showing us to our rooms for the night, Okamibara said “I will serve you refreshments now,” and ran off, returning soon enough with a tray of barley tea and red bean buns. Seeing her do that, I asked “Ms. Okamibara, are you the only one who serves customers in this inn? Don't you have any other employees?”
“I did hire another girl to work part-time, but she's bedridden with a summer cold right now,” Okamibara said with a bitter smile. “But as you can see, this humble country inn isn't very busy to begin with. Right now I only have one guest other than you and your friend, Mr. Kuzushiro. The only reason I hired the part-timer was because I wanted to take a little break for the summer.”
“Is the part-timer okay?” Yozuki asked around a mouthful of bun.
“Her fever does appear to have gone down quite a bit recently. Before yesterday, she was constantly crying, tormented by a high fever.”
I understood all too well how lonely it could be lying in bed with a cold.
“Well, please make yourselves comfortable.”
Okamibara urged Yozuki and I to take seats on cushions. I took her up on the offer and sat down. After a sip of tea, I reached out to take a bun like Yozuki. But my hand froze. On the wrapper of the bun, the words “Locked Room” were written in large letters in a calligraphy styled font.
Locked room... Why was locked room written on a sweet bun?
Okamibara's eyebrows raised in a mischievous smile.
“Did you notice?”
Of course I noticed, it was written right in front of me. In other words, this was...
“Yes, these are unique souvenirs developed in this village – The Locked Room Buns.”
“L-Locked Room Buns?” Yozuki shuddered.
“Yes, the truth is that Yatsuwako Village is famous for its locked room mysteries. We took advantage of that to develop this souvenir.”
Okamibara grinned proudly. Yozuki seemed impressed, but I was naturally curious about something else.
“How does a village become famous for its locked rooms?”
When I asked her, Okamibara nodded and asked me with a serious look on her face.
“Mr. Kuzushiro, are you familiar with the Monokaki Family?”
As soon as the question registered, my eyes went wide.
“The Monokaki Family?” Yozuki tilted her head. “What, are they a family of bean farmers or something?”
No, they weren't. They extremely weren't. I resisted the urge to cry blasphemy at her.
“The Monokaki Family are a family of famous mystery novelists,” I said.
The family that dominated the Japanese locked room.
When I'd spoken with Mitsumura in the literature club room earlier, we'd discussed the magazine This Locked Room Mystery is Amazing!. The Monokaki nearly monopolized the top spots in the rankings, so calling them a dominant force was no exaggeration. And I had heard that the family lived in a mansion in a village somewhere in Okutama. Like a fool, I had forgotten the name of the village, but could it have been...
“Yes, this same Yatsuwako Village.”
Okamibara puffed out her chest. I understood now how a village could be “famous for its locked rooms”.
Then I remembered Camembert, the boy who had guided us to the village. He had introduced himself as Camembert Monokaki. At the time, I'd thought “No way” and ignored it, but I was sure now. Camembert was a member of the Monokaki Family. And Fuika and Funika, who had called out to him in front of the inn. Thinking back, I realized I was already familiar with them. The Monokaki Family included a set of identical triplets who were all writers named Fuika, Funika, and Fumika. They had the characters for “1”, “2”, and “3” in their names, so it was easy to remember. Fuika was a genius sci-fi locked room mystery author, Funika was a genius YA locked room mystery author, and Fumika was a genius historical locked room mystery author. All three of them were renowned for their works. Although, Fumika hadn't been there when I'd met them earlier.
But then I felt a pang of emotion. As expected from the home of the Monokaki Family, I'd bumped into several famous authors. But I also remembered a certain incident. I had spoken to Mitsumura about this earlier, but the head of the Monokaki Family – Fuichirou Monokaki – had passed away last month.
“Yes, that's correct,” Okamibara said when I brought it up. “It's said in the village that a tense atmosphere has fallen over the family ever since Mr. Fuichirou's death, revolving around the distribution of his inheritance. The rumor goes that the lawyers are having difficult dividing it up. And, how should I put this...” Okamibara lowered her voice, even though there was no one to overhear. “The truth is, one person has already gone missing.”
That was surprising. “Is that true?” I asked, and Okamibara nodded, looking completely serious, like a newscaster reporting on a natural disaster.
“Yes, the Monokaki Family includes a set of identical triplets – Miss Fuika, Miss Funika, and Miss Fumika – but the youngest of them, Miss Fumika, went missing a few days after the death of her father, Mr. Fuichirou. She said she was going out, and never returned. She vanished, as though she'd been spirited away.”
Her words landed like a slap to the face. I hadn't seen Fumika, the third daughter of the Monokaki Family, earlier, but I'd never imagined something like that had happened.
“Well, there is a sizable inheritance involved. The police say she ran away from home, but it's more probable she was murdered,” Okamibara said in a tone of resigned certainty. Then, as though she'd just remembered, she added “Oh, speaking of incidents, there is one more.”
“The cause of death of Mr. Fuichirou... is also a bit strange.”
“His cause of death?” Now it was my turn to tilt my head.
“Yes, officially he died of natural causes, but rumors are spreading that he was murdered. Apparently the police initially considered the possibility, but rejected it. Because all of his relatives had alibis for the time of death.”
I couldn't help but frown at the way Okamibara said it. Every single one of them had an alibi? That was...
“That's pretty suspicious, isn't it?”
Okamibara smiled like an old gossip.
I couldn't help but agree. It was extremely suspicious. Actually, it was a paradox to say someone was suspicious because they had an alibi. But the scenario that inevitably filled my mind was that a member of the Monokaki Family had killed Fuichirou for the inheritance.
“Well, please make yourselves at home.”
Having finished her tale, Okamibara looked satisfied with herself and prepared to leave. But at that moment, the lively sound of music came from outside the room's only window – which was fixed and didn't open.
“Huh? What's that?”
When Yozuki looked out the window, Okamibara told her “Ah, that is...”
“Tonight is the night of the Yatsuwako Myojin Festival. That is why the festival's portable shrine is being paraded through the streets like that.”
“The Yatsuwako Myojin Festival,” Yozuki repeated. “That sounds like a pretty pretentious name.”
“Yes, and it is also another reason why locked room murders are said to be this village's specialty. Although, unlike the Monokaki Family, this reason is purely negative.”
With that ominous introduction, Okamibara asked us a question.
“Are you two familiar with the Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era?”
“Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era? I've never heard of them.”
Yozuki answered like that, but I had a feeling the name was familiar. The Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era... They were eight genius mystery novelists who appeared one after the other in the 1940s. Or, depending on who you asked, eight random authors who had the name slapped on them by a magazine editor, but either way, they were eight locked room mystery authors who were active at the same time in the Showa era and who could be called geniuses.
And then, in the year Showa 28 – 1953 – a project that locked room lovers of the time had dreamed of was announced: A collaboration between all eight of the Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era. In short, the eight writers would work together on the same single novel.
They say that too many cooks will spoil the broth, but in this case that wasn't true. To ensure nobody stepped on anyone else's toes, each of the genius authors contributed what they considered their best locked room trick. In other words, the novel would contain eight of the best locked room tricks of the era. After that, the quality of the work as a story didn't even matter. Because, with eight top-class tricks, no matter how amateurish the story was, it would instantly become the best honkaku mystery. And so, the success of the collaborative project was determined the moment it was decided that all of the Eight Masters would participate.
But in reality, that wasn't the case.
Because while on a trip to write the novel, the Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era were murdered.
All eight of them were stabbed to death in a room in an inn in a remote village in Okutama.
I felt a shock.
“Could it be that it was this inn?”
“Yes. It was this inn.”
Okamibara's words took me aback.
I see, that certainly a negative reason – A darkness that lay within Yatsuwako Village.
“As it happens, the murderer who killed the Eight Masters was a young man from the village, who was fortunately caught at once,” Okamibara continued. “But something about the case was strange. After the incident, no matter how hard the police searched, they couldn't find it. Something that should have been at the murder scene had gone missing.”
“Something that should have been there at the scene?”
“The manuscript – The final works of the Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era,” Okamibara answered Yozuki's question. “There should have been something... At least some notes on the tricks should have been left at the scene, but for some reason, they were never found. The police suspected that the young man had stolen it, but he insisted he had no idea. If we take him at his word, there must have been a second culprit in this case. In short, one person killed the Eight Masters, and another stole their notes on the eight tricks after they died.”
That certainly was the case... Assuming we took him at his word.
“The villagers believe that the thief must have been one of our own,” Okamibara said with a frown. “Because after the incident, a series of unfortunate events struck the village. The daughter of the village head was struck by lightning while venturing outside of the cave and killed, a rash of food poisoning cases spread throughout the village, causing eight people to die in agony, and a husband who'd discovered his wife's adultery went mad and used a katana to kill not only her, but her parents as well.”
Those were certainly some extraordinary events.
“Yes, it's as though we'd been cursed,” said Okamibara with a grave nod. “The villagers believed it to be the curse of the eight murdered authors. But the young man who'd committed the crime had already been caught and sentenced to death. So what could the Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era still been angry about? The villagers at the time believed they resented that their final eight tricks had been stolen.”
I see, I think. For a mystery writer, tricks are life itself. If the thief was still living a comfortable life among the villagers, it wouldn't have been strange for the writers to curse the whole village. Although the villagers may have felt that their grudge was unreasonable, it was probably inevitable that they would be subjected to such a lamentable injustice. Grudges and curses are always unreasonable, and it's extremely rare for them to be pointed in the right direction.
“So the villagers at the time did everything they could think of to placate their spirits,” said Okamibara. “They called a priest from Kyoto and had him enshrine the eight writers as a composite deity under the name Yazuwako Myojin. However, because eight writers were enshrined there, they soon came to be known as Yatsuwako Myojin, and the name of the village was also changed from Yazuwako to Yatsuwako.”
So that was the origin of Yatsuwako Myojin, and by extent, Yatsuwako Village.
“And so, a festival to worship Yatsuwako Myojin was held every year. That is the Yatsuwako Myojin Festival. And that festival begins tonight.”
“Starts tonight?” Yozuki tilted her head. “Does the festival last several days?”
“Yes, the festival will last eight days, including today. However, only religious rituals will take place for the next seven days; there won't be any more portable shrines or stalls set up. During the eight days of the festival, the eight shrine maidens of the village worship one aspect of Yatsuwako Myojin each day. Oh, I forgot to mention, but during the festival, it is forbidden for anyone to enter or leave the village. It's completely forbidden. It's said that anyone who violates this taboo will be killed by the curse of Yatsuwako Myojin.”
“Cursed to death...”
“Yes, it's said that the pain the curse inflicts as you die is beyond imagining.”
Her exaggerated claims sent a chill down my spine. Seeing my reaction, Okamibara chuckled.
“That's why we normally turn away guests at this time of year, unless they plan to stay for the entire time. It's a shame to lose out on the potential tourism income that comes with a festival, but we can't violate the village customs.”
“I see, so that's why we're alone here,” Yozuki said with a serious face. “Well, it's fine if we stay eight nights in a row. Because Kasumi and I have tons of free time.”
Well, we were actually students preparing for exam season, so we didn't really have that much free time. But the Okutama New Nessie Experience Tour that Yozuki had planned was originally scheduled for ten days and nine nights, so unfortunately, I didn't think I could argue that.
Okamibara ended her story there, gave a slight bow, and said “Well then, please enjoy yourselves” before leaving the room.
As silence fell, the sound of the festivities outside the window felt especially loud. Before, I had thought it was just a lively sound, but now that I'd heard its origin, I thought it was a little eerie...
“La, la la!”
Yozuki completely ignored my feelings and started singing along. She walked across the tatami mats on the floor and looked out the window. I moved over as well, where I saw a portable shrine with full procession. Villagers dressed in hats and kimonos were playing lively music on wooden flutes.
“La la la! La la la!” Yozuki sang, cheery as can be as she pressed her face against the window glass. As always, she had a tough mind and no sense of ethics.
She spun back to me and shouted “Kasumi!”
“Since we're already here, let's go to the festival later.”
“Sure,” I agreed. I was a bit nervous about such an eerie festival, but it was a rare opportunity. Besides, I hadn't been to any summer festivals that year yet, so things worked out perfectly. But before that...
“I wonder if I should wear a yukata,” Yozuki said, moving to the closet in the side of the room and searching for one. When she turned back to me, I said
“We've still got a while until the festival, so I'm heading out for a bit.”
Yozuki looked back at me, looking confused.
“Where are you going?”
“Just out, you know. Fresh air and all.”
I gave a vague answer. Then Yozuki nodded, said “I see,” and instantly saw through me.
“Are you going to see the scene where Fuichirou Monokaki died? Just now, Ms. Okamibara said something like 'everyone had an alibi'.”
She hit the nail square in the head. I had no choice but to acknowledge that.
Yozuki said “Oh dear” with an annoyed look on her face, then shrugged her shoulders.
“You would like something like that, wouldn't you Kasumi?”
She said some pretty rude things sometimes.
I made my way to the entrance of the inn and checked the village map on the wall. Yatsuwako Village was divided in two, the Eastern Village and the Western Village, by a cliff running north to south through the center. It looked like the Monokaki Family's mansion was in the Eastern Village. Or rather, it looked like the Monokaki mansion was the only thing in the Eastern Village. Since the inn was in the Western Village, I'd need to cross the bridge connecting the two settlements. Fortunately, the directions were pretty simple, so I wasn't afraid I'd get lost. Just to be on the safe side, I made a copy of the map on my notepad (I always carry my notepad with me).
As I reached for the metal door to the outside, it slid open on its own. The person who'd opened it from the outside was a young woman. She was a real beauty in her mid-twenties, with short hair, no makeup, and a casual outfit consisting of a T-shirt and shorts. An unlit cigarette was between her lips. It looked like she had no intentions of actually lighting it. There were a few bite marks on the filter, suggesting it had been there for a while.
As I stared at the cigarette, the woman noticed and said “Oh, this?” as she took it from her mouth.
“I'm trying to quit, but I just can't resist it. I want to at least feel the smell of a cigarette.”
“Do unlit cigarettes even have a smell?”
“Yeah. They smell like tobacco leaves and paper.”
The woman said that with a laugh. Then, after taking a look at my face, she asked “Are you staying here?”
“It's unusual, traveling out to such a remote village.”
“Well, it's more of a trip than a travel.”
I mumbled a noncommittal response. I had actually gotten lost on a hunt for New Nessie, but I couldn't tell her that. She'd definitely conclude I was a loon.
So I asked her some questions before she could do the same to me. “Um, are you...” Since she'd come to the inn, she must have been the other guest staying here. Judging from her casual dress, she didn't look like an office lady.
The woman rummaged around in her shorts' pocket and said “Oh, I'm...” as she pulled out a crumpled old business card.
“Here. This is who I am.”
The business card read “Locked Room Mystery Author, Saboten Iyokawa.” All I could say was “I see.”
I'm not an authority on mysteries, so I didn't recognize the name, but talking to a professional mystery novelist always got my heart racing. Okamibara had said there was one other person staying at the inn besides me, so it must have been this female author – Saboten Iyokawa.
“So, what is an author of locked room mysteries doing in this village?”
“Oh, just for research,” said Saboten Iyokawa in answer to my question. “For someone who writes mysteries, researching unusual villages with unusual customs is just part of the job. I've been to this village a few times in the past month. It's a strange place, isn't it?”
“Indeed it is.” I mean, it was a village inside of a limestone cavern.
“That's why I thought it would be a perfect setting for my next work. A village like an underground empire, with houses shaped like boxes, and a festival that worships Yatsuwako Myojin. I'm sure it would make for an interesting story.”
With that, Saboten waved her hand and entered the inn. Apparently we were done with each other.
I waved back and decided to head for the Monokaki mansion, per my original plan.
Leaving the inn, I walked through the cave for about five minutes, following the copy of the map I'd made. Eventually, I came to the cliffs separating the two villages and the concrete bridge spanning it. The gorge between the cliffs was almost fifty meters across and equally deep. The sides of the cliff were obviously too steep to climb. In short, the bridge was the only route connecting the two villages.
I crossed the bridge and set foot in the Eastern Village. The Monokaki Family mansion was another five minutes' walk from the bridge. Although it was a mansion, it was as boxy and well plastered as every other building in the village, though this one was far larger than any other. It was about 100 meters by 100 meters, and probably 20 meters tall. About 20 meters from the building was a ten meter tall pole, with a speaker on the top. It was probably a disaster siren of some sort. The pole was surrounded by a waist-high iron fence with a radius of five meters, looking like it was protecting the siren. The speaker on the siren was also huge, which made me think that whatever noise it made would easily reverberate throughout the entire village.
I turned my eyes from the siren back to the mansion and went “Hmm...”
Though I'd gone to the mansion, it didn't seem like it would be easy to get a tour of the inside. I couldn't just ring the doorbell and say “Show me the room where Fuichirou Monokaki died! I heard he was murdered and I'm very curious!” It would be a different story if Camembert Monokaki, who I'd become an acquaintance of, were to show his face, but unfortunately, such a convenient coincidence didn't seem likely.
I spent the next hour or so wandering around the mansion, but, regretfully, I took a look at my watch and decided to return to the inn. The lights on the cave ceiling were starting to dim. Apparently the brightness changed over time.
About thirty minutes before Kasumi Kuzushiro arrived at the Monokaki mansion, Saboten Iyokawa, the Locked Room Sage, had also paid the house a visit. However, since she was there on a secret rendezvous, she didn't step inside. Instead, she went around to the back of the mansion, behind the giant rectangular box, and waited for the one she intended to meet to arrive. She was in a complete blind spot, so there was no need to worry about being seen.
After waiting for about five minutes, her visitor finally arrived. Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say her “visitors”. For while they looked identical, they were a pair.
Fuika Monokaki and Funika Monokaki. They were the ones Saboten Iyokawa had been waiting for. The ponytailed Fuika Monokaki recognized Saboten, and after giving her a small bow, spoke.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting. I am the one who called you.”
Hearing the way Fuika spoke, Saboten was a bit surprised.
“I thought the Monokaki triplets always spoke together.”
Saboten had been to the village a few times already, but this was her first time meeting Fuika or her sister in person. However, the triplets had previously appeared on a public access TV show, and Saboten had happened to catch it. At the time, the triplets had constantly said things like “Sorry to keep you waiting.” “Yes, ever so sorry.” “Deeply sorry.” “Our apologies.” Their tone was very different than it was now.
Fuika and Funika exchanged a look, then burst out laughing. When it finally subsided, Fuika said “Ms. Iyokawa, you may look like a cunning woman, but you're surprisingly innocent.”
“Obviously we just do that to establish character for the media. What sort of world would contain women who actually talk like that? Right, Funika?”
“Yes, that's right. We just talk like that because it's popular with otaku.”
I see, Saboten thought. It seemed they had better personalities than she'd thought. Well, that was just to be expected from someone who'd hired her to commit murders.
They wanted her to kill all of their siblings for the inheritance.
“So? How is it?” Fuika asked. “Do you think it will work?”
“Of course.” Saboten put an unlit cigarette in her mouth. Saboten was a locked room agent – a new type of assassin that specialized in locked room murders that had been established at the beginning of the Golden Age of Locked Rooms. She was, if you will, a professional among professionals at this sort of request. So she could answer with confidence. “Your request will be 100% fulfilled. I've never failed at a locked room murder in my life.”
Hearing her, Fuika and Funika said in unison “As expected.” It wasn't clear if they'd done it on purpose.
“By the way,” Fuika asked with a curious expression, “What sorts of tricks are you planning to use?”
“That's a trade secret,” Saboten said coldly. Fuika sulked and whined “Mmmm”, but Saboten never revealed her secrets, even to a client. But Fuika kept pouting and puffing out her cheeks, so Saboten had no choice but to say something to make her stop.
“Well, I can say I've already finished setting up a trick.”
Fuika and Funika's eyes went wide. “You mean...?” Fuika asked, and Saboten nodded.
“Tonight, someone will die. In a locked room, of course.”
When I got back to the inn, Yozuki was lazily watching the evening news on TV. It was probably cable television, as I doubted TV signals would reach inside a cave. When she noticed me, she turned off the TV. It looked like she was tired of waiting for me. She then puffed out her cheeks and said “I'm tired of waiting for you.” She must have been bored. So I said “Sorry,” and after a light dinner in the inn's dining room, we decided to go to the Yatsuwako Myojin Festival together. Incidentally, the festival was taking place on the main street of the village on the same side of the cliff as the inn – the Western Village.
It was 7:00. The lights on the cave ceiling had been completely switched off, and the street was lit by lanterns lining its sides in a fantastical scene. I could hear music from all around. It was exactly like a summer festival, and I couldn't suppress my excitement.
For the record, Yozuki did wear a yukata, just as she'd said. A cool yukata, with a pattern of goldfish on a light blue backdrop. Yozuki gave me a turnaround with a drawstring bag dangling from one hand and said
“What do you think, Kasumi? Does it suit me?”
“It's alright.”
“Oh, it's so hard, being such a beauty,” Yozuki said with a sigh. “I've charmed dear Kasumi all over again.”
A blue moon was floating in the sky. It wasn't the real moon, which was, of course, not visible through the limestone ceiling, so it must have been a fake installed up there, but it gave off the same cool glow as the real thing. Yozuki was in a good mood as she walked beneath the moonlight, humming to herself as she went.
There were many stalls set up for the festival. At a glance, there were at least ten, probably more. That was a lot for such a remote village. There were all the standards: goldfish scooping, candy apples and chocolate bananas, even a shooting gallery. It was a substantial offering. The staff at the stalls probably weren't street vendors, but volunteers from the village who were doing their part for the festival.
“Wow, they even have shaved ice!”
Yozuki, who had been running from stall to stall in excitement, said that with particular enthusiasm. Then she coughed and said in her most formal voice “Kasumi, were you aware?”
“My love for shaved ice is without peer.”
So what?, I thought. Yozuki loves everything that tastes good. She's a glutton without peer.
“So I'm going to go get some.”
With that declaration, Yozuki ran off to the stall. Then, after placing her order, she dug around in the drawstring bag she was holding and made a troubled face. Then she beckoned me over. I had a bad feeling about that. It almost looked like...
I cautiously approached. Yozuki frowned and said
“Kasumi, I have made a terrible discovery.”
“What would that be?”
“I have forgotten my wallet.”
“I knew it!”
Why did I always have to be right about these sorts of things?
“So, sorry, Kasumi, but can you lend me some money?”
“...You're in college. Are you really going to borrow money from a high school student?”
“It can't be helped. I feel absolutely no shame in borrowing money from someone younger than me.”
That was a terrible thing to say, and I didn't understand what part of that couldn't be helped. But arguing with her was a waste of time, so I reluctantly took some money out of my wallet and handed it over.
“Thank you, Kasumi! I'll never forget what you've done for me today!”
Yozuki fired off that cheap thank you she'd forget in a minute. Then, I saw a figure pass at the edge of my vision.
“Ah, Miss Fuika,” I said. Fuika, the eldest of Monokaki family triplets, looked exactly like Funika, but this girl had her hair in a ponytail, so she must have been Fuika. Fuika was wearing a cool yukata covered in morning glories and eating shaved ice that she'd apparently bought from a stand as she made her way through the crowd.
“Oh, so Fuika was here, too,” Yozuki said, also eating shaved ice. “And she's having the same Blue Hawaii as me.”
“That she is,” I nodded. The container of shaved ice Fuika was holding was the same as Yozuki's. Well, it was a small village festival, so it's not like there was going to be a second shaved ice stand.
“Hey, hey, Kasumi,” Yozuki said, tapping me on the shoulder. Then she stuck out her tongue. “Is my tongue blue yet?”
Yozuki's tongue was, in fact, stained blue with Blue Hawaii syrup. But more importantly, I wished she'd stop doing such embarrassing things. It was depressing, seeing my childhood friend, now an entire grown adult woman, sticking out her tongue on a crowded street.
I turned back to Fuika. As she ate her shaved ice, she slowly made her way down the street. Somehow, we wound up walking in the same direction, keeping our distance. Fuika appeared to be looking for someone. Maybe it was Funika. Maybe the two of them had come to the festival together and gotten separated. Fuika, who was looking around and completely ignoring my imagination, stopped in her tracks. What was wrong? Wondering that, I followed her gaze and saw a figure in a black cloak and a mask of a weasel. The cloak was too loose for me to make out anything of the person's posture or build, so I couldn't even tell their height or gender. They seemed at once tiny and a giant.
“What is that?” said someone nearby. “A kazeitachi mask?”
It did appear to be a kazeitachi mask, and judging from the villagers' reactions, this wasn't some sort of festival event. So what exactly was this person doing here?
As I was wondering that, something unexpected happened. The kazeitachi reached into its cloak and pulled out something. A small revolver.
The kazeitachi pointed the muzzle of the revolver at Fuika and, as smooth and natural as a breath, pulled the trigger.
A gunshot.
Fuika's body jolted once then immediately fell to the ground face up. The bullet hole was in her forehead. She had been shot in the head. The cup of shaved ice rolled to the ground, particles of ice stained blue with Blue Hawaii syrup scattered around.
Silence reigned.
Soon, a scream echoed around us, then another. Someone had started screaming, and the sound spread until the festival was drowned in a sea of panic.
Confusion. Panicked shouts rang out, and a the crowd moved in a wave, fleeing Fuika's body. I reflexively pushed my way through the crowd and tried to run to the fallen Fuika. But I felt a chill and, instinctively, I turned by gaze towards it.
The muzzle of the gun was pointed at me. The muzzle of the gun that had killed Fuika, still in her killer's hand. I stopped running, and the kazeitachi approached Fuika in my place.
The kazeitachi walked up to Fuika and pulled some sort of metallic cylinder from its pocket. It tossed it towards me. The cylinder rolled to my feet, and after a moment, began to release a thick smoke in a steam-like continuous stream. The smoke quickly filled the village's entire main street, and I was stuck violently choking on it for some time. I ran to try and escape the smoke, getting further away from Fuika, still lying on the hard ground.
When the smoke finally cleared, the kazeitachi was gone. And so was the girl collapsed to the ground. The culprit must have taken her away.
“Call the police!”
Someone shouted. The surrounding area was in a state of extreme confusion after the incident. Not that that was a surprise. A murder had taken place in the middle of the festival. A murder... There had been a murder. Fuika had been shot in the head. There wasn't any hope she'd survived.
“Hurry! Somebody call the police!”
Someone shouted again. I pulled out my smartphone, but of course it was out of range. Of course. There was no way a cell phone would work in a cave like this.
In that case, the only choice was to call the police using a landline, but...
“It's no good, I can't even get through to my own home,” someone said. “Maybe the phone lines have been cut.” “Then go to the police station.” “Don't be an idiot! No one there can help with this!” “We'd be better off going directly to the prefectural police...”
Everyone naturally made their way to the village entrance. I was swept along with the crowd and followed them... Eventually, I found myself running there. But when I arrived, the crowd was gathered in front of the door covering the entrance of the huge limestone cavern. The door which was still closed.
“Hey! What's the matter!?” someone shouted. “Why can't we go outside?”
“Because,” came a hesitant voice. “If you go outside before the festival is over...”
That reminded me of the story I'd heard from Okamibara. The Yatsuwako Village festival – the Yatsuwako Myojin Festival, takes place over eight days, and during that time, nobody is allowed to enter or leave the village. If they do leave...
“You'll surely be cursed with death.... apparently.”
I said under my breath. It was just a superstition, but judging from the expressions on the villagers' faces, they believed it. The man who had been shouting and demanding to be let out a moment ago was now hunched over, face white as a sheet. It was as though the curse surrounding the village had cooled the flames of anger he'd felt witnessing Fuika Monokaki's murder.
It was ridiculous, at least if you asked me. And I was about to tell them so, when a young man from the village took a step forward, apparently having had the same thought.
“That's just an old superstition,” the young man said with a powerful voice. “It's ridiculous to believe in something like that and refuse to let us leave the village.”
“Murawaka...”
It was one of the village elders. The young man from the village, who was apparently named Murawaka, stood his ground and once again demanded “Open the door.”
Eventually, one of the villagers nodded and ran to the button next to the closed iron door. It was the same young gatekeeper we'd seen in the tunnel on our way to the village. The gatekeeper's working hours were from 3:00 A.M. to 7:00 P.M., so he must have returned to the village earlier. The gatekeeper ran to another button under a glass case next to the main button, broke the glass, and hit the button. The door blocking the village was set not to open after 7:00 P.M., so that must have been an emergency switch to allow it to be opened it case of emergency. Since the case was there, we could all tell that it hadn't been used before today. When the button was pressed, the entrance door instantly began to open.
Soon, the tunnel leading out of the village was visible. The villagers nodded to each other and ran as one. I followed their lead. But after about thirty meters, we all stopped. A wire mesh, painted pitch black, was completely blocking off the tunnel.
What the hell? When Yozuki and I had passed through here earlier, there wasn't any wire mesh.
Looking closer, the top of the wire mesh was completely flush with the ceiling of the tunnel. So had the wire mesh descended from the ceiling like a shutter? From the bottom edge of the wire mesh protruded a shape like the tip of a spear, stuck into a piece of wood buried in the ground.
The ground of the tunnel was sandy for about thirty meters out from the village-side entrance, but from there to the exit of the tunnel was covered in red brick. So there was a boundary between the brick and sand in the ground, and the wood through which the wire mesh was stuck was that boundary. The piece of wood was about 30 cm wide, and ran across the ground in a line, like a painted road marking.
The spear tip on the bottom edge of the wire mesh was embedded deep into the wood. That meant it had been slammed in with considerable force, more than it would have gotten if the wire mesh had simply fallen from the ceiling. It must have been fired into the ground at high speed using gas or gunpowder.
I looked to the villagers for an explanation. But they all looked as confused as me, so it seemed no one from the village had any idea that this wire mesh even existed.
Probably the only person who did know was the culprit who'd lowered it. There must have been a switch to lower the mesh somewhere in the tunnel, but nobody other than the culprit knew where.
“What should we do?”
One of the villagers asked, sounding at a loss. In response, the young man from the village, the same one from before, spoke resolutely.
“Let's cut through this wire mesh.” Murawaka stared down the mesh. “It isn't too thick to cut.”
The wire mesh was much thicker than the ones you saw in the city, but certainly, it didn't look indestructible. It would be possible to cut it with wire cutters or a circular saw.
“Wire cutters,” Murawaka said, turning his back to the wire mesh. “Hurry!”
Several villagers nodded at his instructions and headed back through the tunnel. Murawaka, who was watching them from a bit away from the crowd, looked back to us, and his eyes just so happened to meet mine. I will never forget the expression he made next.
Murawaka let out a sudden cry of “Ah.” His eyes shot wide open, and his face went red with pain and fear, as though he didn't understand what was happening. Eventually, a thin, strangled voice managed to escape from his mouth in staggered spurts. “Ah, ah, ah”, and then, after a loud final “Ahhhh!” he finally managed to spit something different from that sound in a deafening wail.
Bright red flames, fit to melt iron.
It sounds like a joke, but it isn't. Bright red flames streamed like vomit from Murawaka's mouth. They quickly transformed into an enormous pillar of fire, and we all witnessed the spectacle of a man spitting flame like a kaiju.
I want to be clear, I am not exaggerating or speaking metaphorically – Young Murawaka was, completely literally, spraying fire from his mouth in a beam.
The fire touched one of the villagers' clothes, and it immediately started spreading. In a panic, everyone threw off their jackets and started trying to slap it out. But all the while, the flames were still pouring fourth from their source: Murawaka's mouth, and eventually, he himself touched his flames and was ignited. He turned into a ball of flame. Spontaneous human combustion – those words crossed my mind. Yes... This was a case of spontaneous human combustion. I could say so, because I'd witnessed the whole thing from beginning to end. Nobody had approached him. And yet Murawaka had suddenly started burning. It was as though he had been taken over by a superhuman power.
We stared at him as he burned. We stared at him as he turned into nothing but a ball of flame. And we still couldn't accept what had happened before our eyes.
That moment of despair continued for a few minutes – minutes that felt far longer – until finally the flames engulfing the body burned themselves out, leaving behind only Murawaka's charred remains. His body, which had collapsed to the ground long ago, was reduced to a piteous figure, a marionette of black charcoal. We were all still at a loss for words as we stared at Murawaka's corpse, until someone finally spoke in a weak voice:
“It's the curse...”
Everyone turned to the voice's owner. The villager's face had instantly aged from fear, and he finally let out a scream.
“IT'S THE CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURSE!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”
Fear consumed the tunnel, and the villagers all ran from the wire mesh – back towards the village. In a panic, I started running as well. What was this!? What the hell was going on!?
How could a man just suddenly burst into flames like that!?
One thing was for sure: that scene was clearly beyond anything man-made. The curse... It was the curse. The curse of Yatsuwako Myojin. For the eight days the festival is held, no one is allowed to leave the village. We had foolishly tried to break that taboo, incurring the wrath of the god and receiving this horrid punishment. We would be made to pay a heavy price. They would turn every last one of the villagers into charcoal.
The village was under the curse of Yatsuwako Myojin. My mind was just the tiniest bit calmer than theirs, so I took a big picture view of the situation as it stood.
First, there was the murder in the village. Fuika Monokaki had been shot dead, right in the middle of the summer festival.
Then the phone lines were cut. We could assume they had done the same to the fiber optic cables for the internet. The phone lines and the fiber optics were probably underground alongside the electrical cables and ran to sources outside the village, but they must have emerged somewhere to connect to a utility pole within the village. So if they knew where that utility pole was, they could cut the phone lines. For all I knew, they could have set up some sort of timed device weeks ago and cut the lines without even setting foot in the village today.
So now the only way to contact the outside world was to leave the village. But that was impossible. Because of the curse, it was completely impossible to enter or leave the village. There was a word for the situation we found ourselves in.
“It's a closed circle,” I muttered. A closed circle created by the power of a curse.
“How terrible!”
As I returned to the iron door to the village and tried to catch my breath, someone called out to me from behind. I turned around and saw the boy who'd guided Yozuki and I to the village, Camembert Monokaki.
“I didn't see it myself, but Fuika was shot.”
I nodded dully. That wasn't all. A person burned to death right before my eyes.
When I haltingly told him that, Camembert softly mumbled “I see.” Then he shook his head several times, trying to calm himself.
“For now, I need to go back to the mansion and tell everyone at home.”
Camembert said that the phone in the mansion in the Eastern Village was also down. So the only way he could tell the rest of the Monokaki Family about the incident in the village was to go in person.
Hearing Camembert's explanation, I reflexively said “I'll go with you.” I immediately asked myself why I'd said that. But Camembert said “That would be a big help,” so I decided not to think on it any further. And so, we set off for the Monokaki mansion. On the way, I saw Yozuki, so I called out to her.
“Yozuki, go back to the inn.”
Yozuki frowned and said “Be careful.”
“There's a killer with a gun wandering around.”
She was right about that. I nodded, and Camembert and I ran back to the Eastern Village, where the Monokaki Mansion was located.
We ran for a while and eventually reached the cliff separating the two villages. We were able to cross the concrete bridge without incident.
After we'd crossed and gone a bit further, my sixth sense tingled and I turned back to the bridge. It was at that exact moment something unbelievable happened.
A blinding light more brilliant than any I'd ever seen before.
Immediately afterwards, a searing heat and a fierce gust of wind surged over us. There was an explosion. The blast of wind knocked us over and sent us rolling several times. Instantly, I understood what had happened.
“No...”
Disbelieving, we ran back to the bridge. Or rather, where the bridge had once been. There wasn't a trace it had ever existed. There was no longer any doubt. The bridge had been blown up.
“What the hell...”
I asked nobody. The bridge – the only bridge – connecting the two villages had collapsed. Now there was no way to travel between the two villages.
“So now the Eastern Village is also a closed circle,” said Camembert. “But I can't believe the bridge was destroyed. Did the culprit use dynamite or something?”
I couldn't think of any other way to destroy a concrete bridge. Did that mean the culprit stole dynamite from a construction site somewhere? I was about to try checking if there were any thefts of the sort recently, but I quickly remembered that my phone was out of range and clicked my tongue.
Even so... when I looked back at the collapsed bridge, I felt a bone-deep horror.
The bomb on the bridge was probably on a time delay. It was unlikely the culprit had dutifully waited for us to finish crossing before hitting the switch. That meant there was a chance it could have exploded while we were crossing, and if that had happened, we definitely would have been killed. In other words, we had narrowly escaped death through nothing but blind luck.
“They're ruthless,” Camembert said, shrugging his shoulders trying to look tough. “I definitely don't want to die like that.”
Having barely survived the trip to the Monokaki's massive box of a mansion, Camembert gave a stretch of deep relief.
“Well, we made it in one piece somehow.”
Camembert muttered that joke and pressed the button next to the door at the front of the box-mansion. The steel door slid off to the side. So it was an automatic door. Beyond it was an elegant Japanese garden with rich black soil, and a ridiculously huge one story Japanese house towering over it.
“A mansion within a mansion...”
I whispered. It was a strange sight. In other words, the rectangular building I had thought was the mansion actually wasn't a mansion, but a shell placed over the real mansion. Or maybe it would have been more appropriate to call it a box. The structure was a plaster box placed directly over the mansion.
“Why would anyone build this?”
When I asked, Camembert replied “Because of the village custom that we can only build box-shaped houses.”
“So if you want to get at all creative with your house design, you have to do it like this. Of course, it's really inefficient.”
Indeed, from the outside it looks like a perfect box, so it fits the village's custom. However, it's a construct that exploits a loophole in the law – or the custom, rather.
We passed through the steel door and stepped onto the grounds of the Monokaki Family's property. The space inside the box-shaped shell was bright. It looked like there were lights embedded in the top of the shell.
“There aren't any gaps in the shell. If we didn't light it like this, it would be pitch black all day.”
Camembert explained as he walked through the garden to the entrance of the Japanese house and opened the door. Then he told me “I'm going to go tell them what's going on.” He seemed to remember something and said “Oh, right.”
“Kasumi, you'll be spending the night here, right? I don't think you'll be able to return to the inn tonight.”
His words made me realize. Indeed, the bridge connecting the two villages had been destroyed. There was no way back to the Western Village, where the inn was.
So, hesitantly, I nodded and said “I guess I'll take you up on that.”
“Alright then. Allow me to show you to the living room... Ah, just who I was looking for.”
I followed Camembert's gaze to a woman in a maid's dress standing there. She was in her early twenties and stood about 160 cm tall. She was a beauty with dyed brown hair tied in twin braids.
“Ah, Mei, come here for a second,” Camembert said, beckoning her over. He then explained the situation to her. Fuika had been killed during the festival. The curse had isolated the village from the outside world. The bridge connecting the two sides of the village had collapsed, so I would be staying at the mansion tonight.
The woman in the maid's dress – Mei –'s eyes spun from the amount of information being dumped on her, but she eventually seemed to sort it out and gave a firm nod.
“So basically, I need to show Mr. Kuzushiro here to the guest room, right?” Mei asked, and Camembert nodded back.
“Yes, please take care of it.”
“Alright. Mr. Kuzushiro, this way please.”
Mei said that and immediately made her way down the hall. I chased after her and started talking to myself.
“Mei the mei-d, huh?” I came up with a mnemonic for her name. “So what's your last name?”
“Monokaki,” Mei replied. Then she turned around and looked at me somewhat suspiciously. “Mei Monokaki. That's my name.”
I was a bit taken aback by that. Did that mean she was also a member of the Monokaki Family? But I'd never heard the name Mei Monokaki before. Was she also a novelist?
When I asked her, Mei replied with a pained look.
“I do write novels. But I'm ashamed to say that I'm just not good enough. I can't win any awards.”
“I see.”
The Monokaki Family had the image of “a family of genius mystery authors”, but apparently not all of them were gifted with talent.
“Honestly, I'm a bit embarrassed,” Mei said shyly. “I'm the only one of my family who hasn't achieved anything. Well, there's also Camembert, but he has no interest in writing. But I can't make myself give up on my dream, so I'm working part-time as a maid while trying to become a professional writer.”
I see, so that's how it was. But it did seem a bit unusual to work part-time in your own home.
“Well, it's more comfortable than just living with your parents,” Mei said. “Eating free food might be easy, but it's stressful. And I write Gothic mysteries. You could call me an adequate Gothic locked room mystery novelist. So really, this outfit is both my hobby and my income.”
Mei said that, then grabbed the hem of her skirt with both hands and twirled around. Then, perhaps embarrassed by her own behavior, her cheeks tinted a bit red, she gave a dainty cough, and said “Shall we go?” before walking off without waiting for my reply. I followed her down a wide corridor. But... I looked around.
“This is a spacious mansion.”
I'd thought the same thing seeing it from outside, but inside, it also had the feel of a high-class inn, with both the walls and the floor made of excellent quality wood. Without a moment's hesitation, Mei replied “We have a lot of money.” It was the sort of line I wished I could say someday. As expected of the daughter of one of Japan's leading mystery novelists.
Seeing my reaction, she added, “Actually...”
“It wasn't Father who built this mansion, but Grandfather. About ten years ago, Grandfather suddenly announced out of the blue 'We're moving', and next thing we knew, the whole family lived in this village.”
My eyes went wide when I heard. Nervously, I asked
“When you say 'Grandfather', do you mean...?”
“Yes, Zerohiko Monokaki.”
I held my breath. Zerohiko Monokaki... of course, I knew the name already. A true, polymath genius: inventor, investor, and mystery author. He'd built up a fortune worth hundreds of billions of yen through patents and investing and was called the Incarnate God of the Stock Market. His inventions were innovative and never malfunctioned. Although he wasn't a prolific novelist, every single one of his works was a million-plus seller. He made his debut seven years after the famous Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era were all killed, and in his roughly sixty year career as a writer, he'd published seven novels and three short story collections. All of his works were acclaimed even higher than those of his son, Fuichirou Monokaki, and it was said that if Zerohiko had focused on writing, he would undoubtedly be the world's leading mystery novelist.
And that unparalleled genius had committed suicide in the winter of three years ago – December, three years and eight months ago, to be precise, ending his life at the age of eighty. Apparently, he'd blown his head off with a revolver, right in front of his family. However, since the world was in an outrage over something else at the time, the great author's shocking death had received surprisingly little coverage.
Among the works of Zerohiko Monokaki, I was a particular fan of the novel Murder by the Spear of God. It wasn't a locked room story, but an alibi puzzler, featuring a fictional machine called “Gungnir” that used a combination of gas pressure and electricity to fire a spear faster than a bullet, and I'd been blown away by the spectacular trick it was used for. Of course, since a fictional machine was used in the trick, some readers criticized it, but Zerohiko was enraged by their criticism and responded by actually designing the Gungnir in real life and having in patented in the U.S., silencing any doubt as to the trick's possibility. Readers and critics at the time were astounded by Zerohiko's genius, his unique childishness, and his excessive pride. But the resultant publicity made Murder by the Spear of God into Zerohiko's biggest hit.
I was guided to a room with eight tatami mats. Mei showed me around, then laid out a futon from the closet, gave a small bow, and left.
There were two bookshelves in the room, stocked with mystery novels mostly from the Monokaki Family. I pulled one out and started reading.
It was a book by the fourth son of the Monokaki Family, Tabishirou Monokaki. Tabishirou was known as a genius travel locked room mystery novelist, and I'd read a few of his books. They were pretty good. He was a writer who had successfully managed to unify the current locked room mania with the mainstream appeal of the travel mystery genre, and most of his works had been adapted into two hour dramas.
I had heard that Tabishirou traveled all over Japan in search of material. Or rather, three days ago, Tabishirou had appeared on a TV interview, and I'd just so happened to catch it while I was pointedly not studying for my entrance exams. That was when I heard about his travels. If that was the case, he might not have been in the village, but away on a trip.
Camembert came into the room and offered me a bath. I decided to take him up on the offer.
After getting out of the bath, I got straight into the futon and tried to fall asleep.
As I curled up under the blanket in that dark room, I wondered why... When Camembert had said he was going back to the mansion, why had I offered to go with him? Even thinking back now with a clear mind, I didn't understand what I had been thinking.
But it was while I was wondering things like that I was able to fall asleep.
The next day, I quickly learned why I had asked what I did yesterday. Why did I feel I needed to come to this mansion?
The scene that unfolded before my eyes made that crystal clear.
In a room in the mansion, the body of Fuika Monokaki, who had been shot to death at the summer festival the night before, was found. The door to the room was securely locked, transforming the case from murder to locked room murder.
I must have had a premonition last night. A premonition that something would happen in the Monokaki family home. That was why I'd been unconsciously drawn to the mansion. Of course, I hadn't expected it would be a locked room murder.
But even then, I still had no way of knowing. That this was just the beginning of what would become Japan's largest consecutive locked room murder case: eight consecutive locked room murders surrounding the Monokaki family mansion.
Locked Room Draft No. 1 (By one of the Eight Locked Room Masters of the Showa Era: Akira Nezumiyama)
The victim's body is discovered in a room. The door has no thumb turn, and a key is required to lock the door even from the inside. The key is found next to the body, and a huge “Y” is drawn in water on the floor of the room.