1
A man was lying on the ground. He had a mane of white hair and a matching beard.
Next to him lay a broken model of the Glass Tower.
“Mr... Kozushima...?”
A crackling voice came from his mouth.
He didn't understand what was happening. Why was he alone in the First Room with Kozushima's body?
He had to get out of there. The thought was in his mind, but as though the nerves connecting his brain to his body had been severed, he was paralyzed, unable to move a single finger. Yuma moved his eyes, the only things that would listen, to look down at himself, and he gave a feeble shriek.
His body was frozen solid. No, he had been transformed into a statue made out of glossy amber glass.
“You...”
Yuma turned to face the voice that sounded like it had escaped the depths of hell and screamed again.
Kozushima, still collapsed next to the model, was glaring at him, his pupils fully dilated and his eyes a milky white.
“You... killed me...”
Kozushima raised his bluish-white face and began to crawl towards Yuma. As he moved, the flesh of his hands and face rotted away, sloughing off in chunks until bone emerged from between the gaps in the dark red meat.
“I had no choice! You were interfering with the approval of the treatment! Thousands of ALS patients would have died because of you!”
He screamed at the top of his lungs, but Kozushima kept moving. As he crawled closer, more flesh fell away from his body, exposing more and more bone.
“Join me... in... hell.”
His eyes fell out, leaving behind two hollow sockets that continued to glare at Yuma. A hand with only a few withered scraps of flesh left touched Yuma's body.
“No, stop!”
Yuma screamed as his glass body tilted backwards, falling to the floor and shattering to pieces. His broken remains reflected the light of the room and sparkled all the colors of the rainbow.
“AAAAAAAAHHH!”
A scream reverberated through Yuma's skull. A moment passed before he realized it was coming from his own mouth.
Yuma shot upright and restlessly looked around. He was in a large room with antique-styled furniture. He was lying in a bed by the window.
“Ah... I'm still in the Glass Tower.”
Yuma spoke aloud as he wiped his forehead. Sticky, greasy, oily sweat was smeared across the backs of his hands.
It had just been a nightmare. The moment he recalled what “it” was, everything that had happened last night came flooding back to him, and he felt an intense wave of nausea. He felt stomach acid start to fill his mouth, a bitter taste and a burning sensation.
Committing murder and living in fear of being arrested for it was so stressful. Yuma limply wiped his mouth with the back of his jacket sleeve, then noticed a thump-thump-thump sound echoing off the walls of the room. Someone was knocking on the door. That must have been what woke him up.
Forcing his rusty joints to move, Yuma got out of bed. He checked his watch and saw it was just after six in the morning.
Why would anyone be calling him this early in the morning? Yuma took off his jacket and draped it over a chair, then approached the door and asked
“Who is it?”
“It's Aoi. May I talk to you for a moment?”
The moment the voice reached his ears, the fog filling his brain cleared in an instant.
That great detective wanted to talk to him at this time of night? Why?
“Ms. Aoi? What is it?” he asked in a calm, even voice, desperately forcing his agitation back down.
“May I come inside? It's a rather complicated matter.”
Yuma turned back and looked around the room. There was nothing he needed to hide, but he wanted to spend as little time around Tsukiyo as possible. But if he refused her, that might just make him look more suspicious.
After a few minutes of tense internal struggle, Yuma turned the knob of the door and opened it.
“Good morning, doctor!”
The great detective, dressed in the same men's suit as yesterday, gave him that cheerful greeting.
“...Good morning. I see you're full of energy.”
“Yes, I'm usually early to rise, but after last night's incident, I was too excited, so I got up even earlier than usual. So I went straight to the game room and the dining room to see if I could find any clues to the solution. Incidentally, it's very nice outside today, but it looks like it snowed a bit during the night. There was some snow on the window of the game room. Since the heating was off, it was a bit cold.”
Tsukiyo rubbed her hands together.
“Since it's already six, I figured there would be no trouble with me stopping by. Ah, speaking of early risers, Mr. Oita is quite stolid. I passed him on the stairs on my way here. He was impeccably groomed, and his butler uniform was perfectly pressed. Even though his employer is dead, he's still determined to do the job properly. He's a true professional.”
Her cheery tone passed right through Yuma's sleepy head. Even though his head ached, Yuma told Tsukiyo “Well, come on in.” Tsukiyo bowed her head and approached the couch in the middle of the room.
“Goodness, but all these rooms are beautifully designed, aren't they? They're all so classically elegant. The bed was extremely comfortable, as well. I was able to get an excellent night's sleep last night.”
Tsukiyo narrowed her eyes at Yuma.
“But it doesn't look like you can say the same, Dr. Ichijou. You're still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Moreover, judging by how wrinkled they are, you must have fallen asleep in them.”
“...I was so upset, I collapsed right into bed. I was still asleep when you started knocking on my door. Besides, you're also wearing the same clothes as yesterday.”
“No I'm not. I changed clothes like a proper adult. I own several of these suits. This look is like a uniform for a great detective. Besides, the pattern on my tie is different. Yesterday, I wore a tie with a silhouette of Sherlock Holmes I bought when I visited the Sherlock Holmes Museum on Baker Street, but today's tie has a train on it. Specifically, the Orient Express, the same one that-”
“I get it,” Yuma interrupted her. “So can you please tell me why you came to me so early in the morning?”
“Pardon me. Of course, I'm here to ask you about last night's incident.”
Tsukiyo's eyes sharpened. A shiver ran down Yuma's back.
“Are you going around to everyone's rooms in turn?”
“Oh, no.” Tsukiyo waved her hand in front of her face. “I'm not taking any turns. I only want to hear from you.”
“Why me...?”
Did he suspect him? Icy sweat ran down his back.
“Because you were Mr. Kozushima's personal doctor, of course. Learning about the victim is an important part of any criminal investigation.”
So she didn't suspect him. Inwardly, Yuma sighed in relief.
“But if that's the case, I think it would be better to ask Mr. Oita or Ms. Tomoe. They worked and lived in the Tower full time, so they should know Mr. Kozushima much better than me.”
“I agree, but they're both busy preparing breakfast for the guests.”
“I suppose that makes sense. Alright, I'll tell you what I know, however little it may be. Please, take a seat.”
Having calmed down a bit, Yuma offered her a seat on the couch, but Tsukiyo went over to the window.
“It's nice out today. Don't you think it would be a waste to talk in such a dark room?”
Tsukiyo threw open the blackout curtains. The morning sun shone in through the large window, blinding Yuma, who had become adjusted to the dark.
“I love staying in rooms with glass walls. Moreover, these windows can be opened. I opened the window in my room to let some fresh air in, and I could smell the forest outside. It was wonderful; I could feel my mind sharpening.”
Tsukiyo raised both hands and leaned back. Just as she'd said, the First room was completely surrounded by glass, while all the other rooms had rectangular floor-to-ceiling windows lined along their outsides, which could be opened and closed by the press of a button.
“As long as I'm here, let's open the window in this room, too.”
Tsukiyo pressed a button without waiting for Yuma's response. The motors embedded in the ceiling started to work. The wires connected to the top of the window moved out, causing it to lean outwards starting from the top. A freezing wind blew in from outside.
“Don't open that without permission. It's cold.”
“But the air in this room is stagnant. It needs to be ventilated.”
“That doesn't mean you have to open it all the way.”
“I guess it opens from the top like that so nobody falls through. But it snows so much in this area, so if it snows while it's open like this, it would all be dumped into the room. In the worst case scenario, it might pile up on the window until the glass breaks under the weight.”
Tsukiyo crossed her arms and observed the structure of the window. She acted as though she hadn't heard Yuma's protests. Yuma pressed the button to close the window himself.
“Why are you closing it? Clear air makes it easier to think.”
“I told you, it's cold. What is with you? You suddenly barge into my room, and now you're just doing whatever you want? If you don't have anything to say, then please get out.”
She was as eccentric as Sherlock Holmes. Which, one could argue, was exactly what a great detective should be like, but it didn't help Yuma's headache any. Tsukiyo bowed her head and said “Ah, so sorry.”
“With such an intriguing case going on, I haven't been able to calm down at all. Even after I went to sleep, I kept seeing the crime scene in my dreams. It was an enjoyable sight.”
Tsukiyo stared at the ceiling, reflecting on her pleasant dreams.
“...It's the same for me, except I see it as a nightmare.”
“Well, as much as I'd like to sit here and chat all day, we should get to the point.”
Tsukiyo sat down on the couch and crossed her long legs.
“Can you think of anybody who would have a reason to hold a grudge against Mr. Kozushima?”
When she tossed out that question without any preamble, Yuma stiffened his face.
Calm down. She doesn't know about your sister. She's just asking you a general question as his doctor. Telling himself that, Yuma sat on the couch opposite Tsukiyo.
“More than I could count.”
“There are many people with a grudge against Mr. Kozushima?”
“I know I shouldn't criticize my own employer, but Mr. Kozushima was a stubborn man who didn't care about anyone else's opinion. He was a hard man to get along with. Ordinarily, someone with his record would be in high demand at universities even after he retired from professorship. But Mr. Kozushima never received any offers like that. I'd heard him complain about that before.”
“I wonder why. I heard that Mr. Kozushima's work on developing the TRIDENT was worth a Nobel Prize by itself.”
“How do you know about that? The contents of his research are hardly the sort of thing a normal person would know.”
“I'm not a normal person, I'm a great detective.”
Smiling, Tsukiyo quirked her head and asked
“So? You never answered my question.”
“Mr. Kozushima was a serial harasser. It was well known in the industry that he was extremely rude. He would scream abuse at anyone: students, assistant professors, associate professors... It wasn't unknown for him to even get violent.”
“Was that tolerated?”
Tsukiyo frowned.
“It probably wouldn't be today, but Mr. Kozushima's been retired for a long time now, and back then, his research gave hope to countless people around the world suffering from incurable diseases. The university probably didn't want to do anything that would draw negative attention to itself or interrupt his research. But as a result, many people in Mr. Kozushima's laboratory were mentally cornered and driven from academia. Some of them even took their own lives.”
“I see, that would be a motive.”
“But that isn't all. After acquiring the patent for the TRIDENT, Mr. Kozushima demanded massive royalties from the pharmaceutical company he'd developed it with. He threatened to give the patent to another company if they didn't pay.”
“Even though they had supported his research?”
“In the past, even if a researcher was receiving funding from a company, they often didn't bother drawing up formal, enforceable contracts. The honor system was enough to keep an average researcher from selling the results of a collaborative project to another company.”
“But Mr. Kozushima wasn't an average researcher,” Tsukiyo said, the corners of her mouth rising.
“No, he was a greedy old miser. There were lawsuits and other troubles, but in the end, the pharmaceutical company gave in to his demands and payed astronomical patent royalties for the TRIDENT, and used it to create a variety of new treatments.”
“So those patent royalties are how Mr. Kozushima got the money to assemble the Kozushima Collection and build this Glass Tower.”
“That's right. Since they had to pay so much to cover Mr. Kozushima's patent royalties, the new treatments wound up being quite expensive. Many people who needed them were denied treatment because they couldn't afford to pay.”
“Come to think of it, I remember hearing once that Mr. Kozushima doesn't have any family who would have the right to inherit his estate. Is that true?”
Yuma watched Tsukiyo bring her hand to her mouth, then replied
“As far as I know, it is.”
“So, if Mr. Kozushima dies, the pharmaceutical companies will no longer have to pay the royalties. Prices will go down, and many people will benefit from the greater availability of the treatments. I see, so countless people have motives. It wouldn't be strange if one of them were here in the Tower right now.”
A mysterious smile formed on Tsukiyo's thin lips.
“...It sounds like you're enjoying yourself,” Yuma muttered.
Tsukiyo waved her hands in front of her and said “No, no!”, but her face was still relaxed.
“Do you believe Mr. Kozushima was murdered, Ms. Aoi?”
“As I said yesterday, there isn't enough evidence to make that judgment. But if it was a suicide, the police will come the day after tomorrow and find evidence after a thorough forensic investigation. In that case, my services won't be needed. So, as a great detective, I'm investigating under the assumption that Mr. Kozushima was murdered using some kind of trick.”
“But the door to the crime scene, the First room, was locked. And unlike the other rooms, that room doesn't have any windows that could have been opened. In that case, isn't it more likely that it was suicide? I think that room is what you'd call a locked room-”
Yuma was desperately trying to convince the great detective that it was suicide, but the moment the words “locked room” escaped his lips, he realized his mistake.
Locked room. For mystery fans, there was no word that held more appeal.
“Yes, the First room certainly did appear to be a locked room when the crime was committed. However, it's strange of you to name that as proof that Mr. Kozushima was murdered. After all, he died of poisoning.”
Tsukiyo raised her finger up next to her face and began to speak energetically.
“Poison is a murder weapon that can kill a victim even without the culprit being present at the scene. If the poison was placed in something Mr. Kozushima was likely to eat, the culprit wouldn't have needed to be in the First room at the time of the murder. There are also many cases where the victim is given a slow-acting poison that doesn't take effect until after the victim enters the room and locks it, but if the poison really was the tetrodotoxin, it's unlikely it was mixed into Mr. Kozushima's food at dinner. It was about an hour after dinner that Mr. Kozushima called for help. Tetrodotoxin is a poison that takes effect relatively quickly. The timing doesn't add up.”
Tsukiyo endlessly rambled on without giving Yuma any chance to interject.
“Of course, it is possible that the call from Mr. Kozushima to Mr. Oita was faked somehow. Someone imitating Mr. Kozushima's voice. A recording. There was no call and Mr. Oita just lied. I'll consider all these possibilities in more detail after I've gathered more information.”
“You've already thought that far?”
Yuma was completely overwhelmed. Tsukiyo blinked at him.
“That's standard for a great detective, isn't it? So, let's consider the possibility that Mr. Kozushima did die at 8:30 P.M. after swallowing poison that the culprit planted beforehand. In that case, the poison was most likely mixed into either the cognac or the chocolate on his desk. The police should be able to tell us more about that after they investigate. However...”
Tsukiyo paused before continuing in a low voice.
“If this is a murder, I think the culprit was in the First room at the time of the crime.”
“...Why do you think that?”
Yuma asked only after swallowing heavily.
“If the poison was planted ahead of time, there's no way the culprit could have known when Mr. Kozushima would ingest it, and therefore, no way to time the murder. Last night, Mr. Kozushima was supposed to make some sort of announcement at ten o'clock, but he died shortly before then. It's possible that the culprit stole Mr. Kozushima's life to prevent him from making that announcement. In other words, they directly went to Mr. Kozushima and handed him the poison.”
No. All Kozushima wanted to announce was that he'd found the posthumous final work of a famous author. He hadn't killed Kozushima to hide that. Yuma was incensed. The great detective was coming closer to the truth, even though the starting point of her logic chain was completely wrong.
“But like I said, the scene was a locked room-”
“Yes, a locked room!”
Tsukiyo shouted, voice pitching up as she pointed her finger right at the tip of Yuma's nose.
“W-What is it?”
“Dr. Ichijou, are you familiar with the Locked Room Lecture?”
“You mean... Carr's?”
“Exactly. Chapter seventeen of 1935's The Three Coffins by John Dickson Carr, who authored so many locked room mysteries that he was hailed as the King of Locked Rooms, is called 'The Locked-Room Lecture', and is famous as an academic essay categorizing all of the different types of locked room tricks. It's since been quoted countless times in various other mysteries. The Locked-Room Lecture begins with an unusual moment where Dr. Fell, the series detective, acknowledges that he and everyone else related to the case are fictional characters in a mystery novel. You could call it a moment of metamystery.”
Tsukiyo weaved her words together as eloquently as though she was singing.
“Oh, but it's impossible to talk about metamystery without acknowledging Higashino Keigo's The Conditions of Great Detectives – which received a drama adaptation under the title Lessons for a Perfect Detective Story. The story is about two characters: the narrator Ogawara Banzo, a police detective who knows that he is a character in a detective story, and Tenkaichi Daigoro, who is forced to perform the role of great detective. The two of them deal with various situations that would be completely normal in a mystery, but in a way that turns them into not only hilarious comedy, but also near-total anti-mystery. While Higashino Keigo is known as an author of profound human dramas, he wrote many excellent works of honkaku mystery in his earlier days. Those foundations of honkaku are clearly on display in his debut work, The Devotion of Suspect X, which won not only the Naoki Prize, but also the Grand Prize in that year's Honkaku Mystery Award. However, at the time, The Devotion of Suspect X prompted debate over whether it truly qualified as a honkaku mystery, which prompted debate about what a honkaku mystery even is...”
Yuma stared blankly at Tsukiyo as she went on and on, no longer even looking at him. She seemed to have completely disappeared into her own private world.
Which was fine with him, because he needed time to recover. Half-listening to Tsukiyo's words, Yuma took slow, deep breaths, slowing his rapid heartbeat.
“...So my proposed solution to the Late Queen Problems is-”
After allowing Tsukiyo to talk for a solid twenty minutes, Yuma felt calm enough to say “Um...”
Tsukiyo, who had been enjoying a pleasantly one-sided conversation, frowned and asked
“What is it?”
“Your thoughts on mystery theory are interesting, but shouldn't we focus on the point?”
“The point? I thought we were discussing the definition of honkaku mystery.”
“No! We were talking about the fact that the crime scene, the First room, was a locked room!”
Tsukiyo's stared blankly for a few moments, then she clapped her hands.
“Oh! Right. Then we started talking about the Locked Room Lecture.”
Had she actually been so engrossed in her own talk that she'd forgotten? Yuma looked at her in amazement as Tsukiyo's expression gradually grew serious.
“The Locked Room Lecture broadly sorts locked room tricks into two types.”
Tsukiyo held up two fingers.
“The first is the sort where the murderer wasn't in the room from the start. This would be the case if the poison was planted in the room beforehand and Mr. Kozushima died after locking the room and swallowing it.”
Tsukiyo lowered one finger and continued.
“The other is the sort where the culprit was in the locked room at the time of the crime, then, after the murder, leaves the room and locks it from the outside, or creates the illusion that it was locked. For the reason I just explained, I suspect this is what was done in yesterday's incident.”
“But when everyone went yesterday, the First room was definitely locked, wasn't it? Or could it be that it wasn't locked, but something else was done to block the door?”
Yuma desperately tried to distract the great detective from his actual trick.
“No, since the door opened after we used the master key, it was definitely locked.”
“So then, did the culprit have a duplicate key?”
“I think that's unlikely. We called the security company yesterday and confirmed that there are no duplicate keys. I'm familiar with that company, and they're trustworthy.”
“Could they have used the master key?”
“Yes, the master key.” Tsukiyo pointed at Yuma. “We should properly consider the possibility that it was used to lock the First room. But, I've already concluded that isn't the case.”
“How can you say that?”
“The master key was kept in the key cabinet by the fireplace in the game room. But after dinner, when we all went to the game room, I spent the whole time standing by the fireplace. Nobody opened the key cabinet.”
“Maybe the master key was taken out of the cabinet beforehand...”
“In that case, Mr. Sakaizumi would be our only suspect. Last night, the door to the First room wouldn't open, so Mr. Sakaizumi went to get the master key. But in fact, Mr. Sakaizumi already had the master key on him, and he only pretended to leave to get it from the key cabinet. That might have been possible.”
“So Sakaizumi's the culprit!?”
Yuma pretended to be shocked. If he could redirect suspicion towards Sakaizumi, he might be able to lead the great detective away from the truth. However, Tsukiyo shook her head and said
“That isn't possible.”
“Why not? At that time, Sakaizumi went to the game room to get the key alone. No one actually saw him get the key out of the cabinet.”
“But Mr. Sakaizumi couldn't have gone to kill Mr. Kozushima. Ever since dinner ended and we all went to the game room, Mr. Sakaizumi was behind the counter at the bar.”
Yuma let out an “Ah...”
Tsukiyo lowered her jaw and looked at him.
“Yes, Mr. Sakaizumi was always serving drinks to the guests. If he had disappeared, someone would have noticed right away. The same applied to Mr. Oita and Ms. Tomoe, who were our servers. If anyone was able to sneak out of the game room, go to the First room, and kill Mr. Kozushima, it would have been one of the guests.”
“Does that make me a suspect?”
Yuma joked, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice, and Tsukiyo answered with a big, bright smile.
“Yes, of course.”
Yuma's throat spasmed, keeping him from responding right away.
“Wh-What are you saying!? Why would I have killed Mr. Kozushima?”
“There's no need to get so upset. At this point, I don't have enough information to rule anyone out, so everyone is a suspect. Including myself, naturally.”
Tsukiyo gave a seductive smile that didn't suit her masculine appearance.
“We haven't completely ruled out the possibility that Mr. Sakaizumi is the culprit, either. It would have been difficult if he acted alone, but if he had an accomplice, it would have been possible for him to be involved in the crime. However, I'd like to start by assuming the culprit acted alone.”
The great detective was suspicious of him. Yuma didn't know how close to the truth she was, but he was certain she considered him the prime suspect. The premonition made his legs shake, and Yuma hastily placed both hands on his knees and tensed them.
“But if they didn't use a duplicate key and didn't use the master key, how did they lock the First room?”
“The first possibility I can think of is that the key left in the First room was a fake. We didn't check whether or not it could actually lock the door to the First room. It's possible it was a fake that only looked like the original, and the culprit still has the real key. However, I don't think it's very likely that actually happened.”
“Why is that?”
“Because if it was a fake, the trick would be easy to see through. All we'd have to do is try using it. When the police arrive, they'll find out right away, and there isn't any way the culprit could have been sure we wouldn't see through it last night. In fact, if Mr. Kagami hadn't kicked me out of the room, I was going to check if the key left in the First room could actually lock the door. There's no point in using a locked room trick that's so easy to break.”
Tsukiyo's argument was too logical for Yuma to argue against.
“So, the door was locked with some sort of tool...”
“In a physical trick. Locking the door with a needle and thread. It's a classic, but it still works. Not in this case, though. Last night, after we split up, I thoroughly examined the door of the First room myself. That door doesn't possess a single gap. There's no way to get anything in from the outside. And besides, cylinder locks like the sorts on the room doors aren't suitable for physical tricks to begin with. They're designed not to lock unless physical force is applied to a thumbturn. So it can't be moved by a trick with magnets or anything like that. Another option would be to remove the door altogether, but I couldn't find any traces of that. This locked room wasn't created by a physical trick.”
“Then how...?”
“I can't fully disprove the possibility that the locked room was unintentional, such as by Mr. Kozushima locking the door from the inside after the poison took effect, but my hunch is that isn't it. The culprit must have stayed and confirmed that the poison had taken effect before leaving the First room and locking the door. That would make it so Mr. Kozushima's death was treated as a natural death or a suicide. If it weren't for that dying message, we all would have thought Mr. Kozushima had a heart attack.”
“I'm asking you how. How did they create the locked room?”
Feeling himself backed into a corner, Yuma unintentionally raised his voice.
“Oh, I'm sorry, I'm rambling. But haven't you ever noticed that all mystery novels feature great detectives giving extremely longwinded explanations of things? I think it's done to put pressure on the culprit, and excite the readers.”
Tsukiyo stopped talking long enough to lick her lips. Yuma thought it made her look like a carnivore. “So,” Tsukiyo said, placing her hands over her stomach.
“I think this case was created using a psychological trick.”
“What sort of psychological trick?”
Yuma's mouth was parched and his voice was cracked.
“The reason the First room is being considered a locked room is because we found the key inside the room last night. But was it actually there?”
“What are you talking about? The key was definitely on the floor of the First room...”
“Yes, it was on the floor. But how long had it been there?”
Tsukiyo lowered her head and stared straight at him.
“It wasn't until a few minutes after we entered the room that Ms. Tomoe found the key. In other words, there's no proof that key was there when we entered the room.”
“...Then when did the key fall to the floor?”
Yuma felt like the air in the room was thinning.
“It must have been after we all entered the room. At that time, everyone was focused on the collapsed form of Mr. Kozushima. The culprit took advantage of the opportunity to quietly drop the key they had on their person on the floor. The First room has a soft carpet, so when the key fell, it didn't make any noise. By doing this, the culprit was able to make it look as though the key was already inside the room, making the First room into a locked room.”
It was perfect... Yuma shuddered. She'd completely seen through him. The trick he'd worked so hard to come up with had been passed through as though it wasn't even there.
How could he escape now? Feeling his head spin, Yuma frantically pushed his mind as far as it could go.
Just because the locked room trick had been exposed, that didn't automatically make him the culprit. Anyone could have performed that trick. But there was no doubt that the great detective suspected him. Obviously. If Kozushima was poisoned to death, his personal physician would be the prime suspect no matter what.
If he left her alone, this great detective would undoubtedly find evidence that he was the culprit. He had to do something before then.
Suddenly, he realized his eyes had wandered to Tsukiyo's slender neck.
No matter how tall she was, she was still a woman. Yuma was sure he was stronger than her. And nobody else knew that she had come to his room. So...
Yuma's thoughts got that far before he returned to his senses. What was he thinking? He couldn't kill an innocent woman to protect himself... Yuma was tormented by an intense feeling of self-loathing.
He'd taken Kozushima's life because he had no choice. If he hadn't, countless ALS patients would have suffered. Someone had to do it. Someone had to...
Knowing that it was just an excuse, Yuma repeated it to himself like a mantra.
But if he laid a hand on the woman before him now, he would be no better than a beast. He could never allow himself to fall that far. So what should he do...?
As he was paralyzed under the weight of the conflict, Tsukiyo stood up. Yuma braced himself.
“Is something the matter, Ms. Aoi?”
“...May I use your restroom?”
“Huh? Oh, uh, yes, please.”
Yuma was taken aback, but Tsukiyo just said “Pardon me” and went straight to the bathroom. Once the door was closed and Tsukiyo was out of sight, Yuma exhaled deeply.
His desperate struggle wasn't over yet. But he appreciated being given even a moment to calm himself. Looking at the clock on the wall, it was close to seven A.M. He had been talking with Tsukiyo for nearly an hour without realizing it. No wonder he was so exhausted.
What should he do next? As he brushed his hair back, Yuma suddenly stiffened as though he'd been struck by lightning. He slowly turned to the bathroom door. He had hidden the case of poisoned capsules in the toilet's water tank. Could it be the great detective had gone to the bathroom to find them?
His slowing heart instantly accelerated again. Feeling like a defendant awaiting the judge's verdict, Yuma waited for Tsukiyo to return from the bathroom.
The door opened, and Tsukiyo emerged, wiping her hands with a handkerchief.
“What's the matter? You have such a scary look on your face.”
When she noticed Yuma staring at her, Tsukiyo tilted her head.
“No, it's nothing.”
Quickly averting his eyes, Yuma felt his breath hitch. Had the great detective just been using the toilet, or had she been searching in its water tank for the murder weapon?
Yuma waited for Tsukiyo's next words, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering.
“By the way, Dr. Ichijou...”
The moment Tsukiyo put the handkerchief back in her pocket, a sudden shrill alarm rang out.
“Eh? What's this?”
Tsukiyo's eyes darted around the room. As Yuma replied “I don't know either!”, the motors on the ceiling by the windows started all moving as one, and every window in the building opened.
“There is a fire in the dining room. There is a fire in the dining room. Evacuate at once.”
An artificial voice filled the room.
A fire? So had the windows opened to let out the smoke? Yuma froze until he felt himself being pulled by the hand.
“Dr. Ichijou, we need to move. If we stay upstairs we might get caught in the smoke.”
Tsukiyo was holding Yuma's hand. Freed from his paralysis, Yuma dazedly replied “Ah, right,” and he and Tsukiyo ran to the entrance.
They opened the door and left the room. Luckily, there was no smoke or flame in the spiral staircase. Yuma and Tsukiyo looked at each other, nodded, and started running down the stairs.
After about three-quarters of a rotation, the door to the Seventh room opened, and they saw Yumeyomi, wearing a bright pink nightgown, peering up the stairs.
“Ms. Yumeyomi, we need to evacuate to the first floor.”
Aoi called out to her. Yumeyomi looked at her in confusion.
“But I'm still in my nightie.”
“Now is not the time for that. Let's go!”
Tsukiyo grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pulled Yumeyomi down the stairs. The sound of her slippers clattering down mingled with her voice shouting “I get it, don't pull me!”
The alarm was still ringing when Yuma and the others arrived on the first floor. The hall didn't appear to be filled with smoke, either. But they did register a faint smell of burning.
“Over here!”
Someone screaming reached their ears. Yuma kicked off the floor and ran towards it. Madoka in her maid uniform and Sakaizumi in his chef's uniform were pushing at the door to the dining room.
When Yuma approached and asked “What's wrong!?”, Madoka turned to him with tears in her eyes.
“The door won't open!”
Yuma joined Madoka and Sakaizumi in pushing the door. It moved slightly, but it didn't open.
“What's going on!?”
Another voice came from behind. Yuma turned around to see Kagami approaching. Sakyo and Kuruma followed soon after.
“It looks like there's a fire in the dining room, but we can't get inside.”
When he heard Yuma's answer, Kagami grabbed Madoka by the shoulders.
“Where's the key to this door? Will it open with the master key I have?”
“No, this door doesn't open with a key,” Madoka replied. She looked terrified. “This door just has a simple pair of latches to keep guests from seeing dining preparations. It can't be unlocked from the outside.”
Just as Madoka said, the door had no keyhole. Yuma remembered the latches he'd seen last night, rotating metal rods that hooked into a set of protrusions.
“Does that mean someone's inside there?”
After hearing Sakyo's words, Yuma looked around at who was there with them, and Madoka shouted “It's Mr. Oita!”
“Mr. Oita should be inside there, laying out the table for breakfast!”
“Then why hasn't he come out yet!? What's he doing in there!?”
Madoka glared at Yumeyomi, the one who'd started screaming.
“That's why we're trying to open the door!”
Yumeyomi stepped back in the face of Madoka's anger, as though she hadn't expected to be treated as anything other than an honored guest.
“...I guess there's no other way,” Kagami said, pushing Madoka aside as he stepped forward.
“If there's no key, we'll just have to break it down. You. Doc, cook. Help me.”
Yuma and Sakaizumi both nodded when Kagami called out to them. The three of them took up positions in front of the door.
“Stay with me here. Ready? One... two... three!”
On Kagami's signal, the three of them slammed their bodies against the door. The impact and pain ran through their shoulders, but the door gave a loud creak. Yuma and the others synchronized their breathing and charged the door again. With a loud BANG!, it flew open. Yuma, Sakaizumi, and Kagami lost their balance and fell into the room.
Jet black smoke flooded into the hall. A stinging pain afflicted his eyes, and his vision was blurred through tears. Yuma coughed and hacked as the smoke reached his throat. Suddenly, cold water was splashed across his body. He looked up to see water pouring down from ceiling-mounted sprinklers. The pungent odor of burning food mixed with the scent of fire.
The next moment, there was a scream loud enough to hurt his ears. He turned to look behind him. Yumeyomi's face was pale, and she covered her mouth with both hands. Everyone else's faces had gone rigid. Madoka, who had fallen to her knees, pointed into the dining room with a trembling finger.
“Mr. Oita...”
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Yuma followed Madoka's finger. He was blinded by the sight of the morning sun streaming through the glass walls. Somehow, his eyes eventually adjusted to the brightness, and the moment he saw what was inside the room, his mind froze. He couldn't understand what he was seeing.
In front of the table, Oita lay on his back. The front of his uniform had turned reddish-black, and from underneath his body, a red liquid had been diluted in the sprinklers' water and spread across the floor. His face was facing away from them, so they couldn't see his expression, but he wasn't moving at all.
For some reason, what looked like white feathers were scattered around Oita.
Kagami got up and approached Oita, completely ignoring the sprinklers raining across him. He knelt down and touched the butler's neck.
“He's dead. He's been stabbed multiple times in the chest.”
“What...?”
The voice that came out of Yuma's mouth was impossibly weak.
At that moment, the alarm that had been ringing nonstop went quiet, and simultaneously, the sprinklers stopped showering the room.
“Huh? What's this...?”
Kagami stood up and asked as he looked at the dining table. Yuma rose as well and walked on unsteady legs until he could drop his gaze to the table's surface. Goosebumps erupted across his body.
The center of the tablecloth had been burned black. That must have been where the fire started. But it wasn't the burn mark that caught Yuma's eye.
Large letters had been written on the pure white tablecloth.
The letters were an ominous shade of dark red.
“This can't be...”
Yuma breathed, his voice hoarse and ragged. Kagami roughly scratched at his head.
“'Fraid it is. It was written in Oita's blood.”
“Blood...”
Yuma forced his wavering vision to follow the messy, uneven words of blood.
Yuma imagined the letters floating up off the tablecloth and attacking him, and it sent a shiver down his spine.