Chapter One – The Story of the Year

There was a family, the richest family around. There were four people in this family. The father was a respected surgeon and a well-regarded pillar of the community. The mother was a socialite who moved in glittering circles. A butler who had been with them for as long as anyone could remember. And a little girl who was her parents' pride and joy. She was soft-spoken and rather shy, but well-mannered with a kind and gentle nature. The little girl loved her family with all of her heart. She knew nothing but peace, love and happiness for eight blissful years.

Until the night of the fire.

No one knew how it began, or the exact details of the accident. Officers on the scene arrived just in time to pluck the girl from the ashes of her gutted home. Both her parents died in the fire. She was all alone in the world, save for her loyal housekeeper.

There were some words that were never spoken in the clean, dry air of the burn ward. Permanent was one of them, perhaps the worst. But in the corridors outside, a long line of the best doctors and surgeons and specialists money could buy only repeated the same diagnosis of irreparable scarring. Skin grafts could only do so much. The eye was saved...but not much else.

Time passed. Eventually the girl healed as best she could, and left the hospital in the care of her butler. She was not seen or heard from for many years. Even the most bored of the city's gossips and rumourmongers all but forgot about her.

Until she returned. And in a few short years, she turned what was previously a comfortable family inheritance into the foundations of a thriving business empire. The city's tycoons could only watch in awe as the girl, now a young woman, fought her way to the top of the mountain to become the richest person in the city once more. But the more she owned of the city, the more she remained in the shadows. No one had seen her face apparently, not even her board of directors. She never made a single personal appearance at the many charity events hosted in her name. The city was once again inflamed with rumour. Everyone had heard of her. No one knew anything certain about her.

xxxx

Hisao Nakai gave up and tilted his chair back so he could rest his legs on the small area of his desk not taken up by his notes or his laptop. The sun had set outside the newsroom without him even noticing. The room was empty save a few stragglers like himself.

"Working late again?" called one of his fellow reporters. He was on sports, and there was a big game coming up.

"You know it."

"I haven't seen you around this late since you were on the crime desk."

"I thought lifestyle was going to be a cushy job."

"What's not to like? Nice parties, great food..."

"Editor stuck me with the Ikezawa story."

"Ah."

A moment of silence while both men considered the implications. Hisao could feel the sympathy emanating from his colleague. He could also feel the relief that he wasn't the one stuck with the job.

Hisao had turned a love of reading novels and the written word into a successful (thus far) career in journalism ever since graduating from colleague. He was a young man in his mid-twenties, average height, average build, good-looking but not remarkably so. The only things remarkable about him were his messy hairstyle that stuck up and out at odd angles, and a strange predilection for sweater vests.

He had accepted the Ikezawa story with a great deal of enthusiasm at first, being happy to just be part of the lifestyle desk after several months on crime. She was the richest person (not woman, person) in the entire city of Sendai. There was an air of mystery about her. No one could tell him even what she looked like. Being the first to write this story would be a huge feather in his cap.

After a while Hisao realised why he had the opportunity to be the first to write the story. No one else had even come close to scratching the surface. Every lead he chased down, every little bit of info he could scrounge up lead him to a dead end. The public relations department at Ikezawa Enterprises had been stalling his request for an official interview for weeks. The blank white screen of his laptop with its blinking word cursor stared at him mockingly. Hisao shut it off.

"If I could get one interview. Just one. A phone call. Email, even. Anything."

"Yeah, good luck with that buddy."

Hisao stuffed his laptop into his bag and went home to his tiny little apartment. He tried to avoid going home after dark, but sometimes it was impossible. Nighttime Sendai was rife with gangs and criminals, and he walked the streets in the sure and certain knowledge he could end up as just another statistic in the morning.

Even when he was at home with the door safely triple locked, Hisao couldn't get to sleep. He tossed and turned, and eventually found himself on his couch in nothing but his boxers, with his laptop open in front of him.

He began to write. He wrote through the night. When daylight came he called his office, called in sick, and took a nap. When he woke up, he continued writing. He called for takeout, not daring to leave his room. And when he was done, he sent it off to his editor with the satisfaction in the knowledge of a job well done.

When Hisao next stepped into the newsroom, he received an immediate summons to the editor's office. Pausing only to drop his bag and coat on his chair, he went into the office and took a seat.

His editor was a nice lady, if a bit nervous. Hisao gave her a friendly nod and sat back.

"What have you done?"

"I did what you told me to do, Ms Shirakawa. I wrote a story about Ikezawa Hanako."

"But this isn't the story I asked you to write. There's no quotes, nothing but speculation!"

"Exactly," said Hisao. "I had nothing to go on. All my official requests for an interview were denied. All of my contacts and sources turned up nothing. When you have nothing, make that the story. And I did."

Hisao's story was a piece about the 'mysterious Ms Ikezawa' and how intriguing it was that for someone who owned a large chunk of the city, her face wasn't even known by anyone in it. Hisao had began with the fire and the death of the Ikezawa seniors, that was publicly reported. The rest of the story was a little more gossipy than he would have liked, but he had no other choice. Ikezawa had left him with nothing.

"Well, if you're sure..."

"I'm certain, Ms Shirakawa," said Hisao. "I guarantee it will have people talking."

And it did – for a while. People commented how weird it was that no one had seen Ms Ikezawa, and that nobody had visited the huge mansion known as Ikezawa Manor on the outskirts of the city. There were requests from television news shows to do a live interview, which were denied. As time went on, people began to lose interest. Hisao went back to visiting art galleries and movie premieres and thought little of the Ikezawa story until he was hauled back into his editor's office.

"You have an interview."

"I'm sorry?"

"An interview with Ms Ikezawa herself. In person. She's agreed to do one interview with you. She specifically requested for you by name."

Hisao felt a chill go down his spine. Was attracting the attention of Sendai's most powerful citizen really a wise move to make? And then his excitement got the better of him. He was being given an opportunity to interview Ms Ikezawa herself.

"How did this happen?"

"Her assistant called my office, saying that Ms Ikezawa wanted to give an interview. She didn't actually say so, but I surmise it's because of the attention you stirred up with your earlier story."

"Oh. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"You'll find out."

xxxx

Rain lashed the windows of the taxi cab, turning everything on the other side of the glass into a hazy blur that twisted the world into strange and wonderful new shapes. The sun had set during the long drive through the long and winding roads that took the cab to the very furthest reaches of the city, and the only light came from a street lamp or two with the moon behind the clouds.

The rain hammered down on the roof of the taxi cab, creating a staccato din that made conversation all but impossible. It didn't seem to bother the driver, who fired question after question at the young man sitting quietly in the back seat.

"You're new in town then?"

"Not exactly. Moved here about a year or so ago."

"Oh, you don't talk like you're from around here. What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm a journalist. Moved up from Tokyo, where I worked at the Japan Times."

The driver chuckled. "Well it's not the big city, but I think you'll find Sendai just as interesting."

"Of course. In fact I'm working on a story now."

"Ah, I should have guessed," said the driver. "Not many people travel up to Ikezawa Manor."

Hisao leaned forward a little. A dangling statement like that was just begging for a polite inquiry that would yield a goldmine of information.

"I've heard a few things."

"So fast!"

"Well I am a journalist." The two men shared a laugh.

"The occupant's a bit of a recluse, I hear," said Hisao, prodding further.

"Oh yes. She's the last of her family, you know. Hosts a few charity events now and then. But spends most of her time up at that big mansion of hers, apparently. Not that I blame her. If I had a house that big I'd just stay in it all the time."

The cab navigated a curve in the road and proceeded up the last stretch to the boundary of the Ikezawa estate.

"So you're doing an interview?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, I am. A bit of a lifestyle piece. Sendai's richest inhabitant, that kind of thing. My editor had to negotiate pretty hard for the opportunity."

"I'll look forward to reading it in the paper then," said the driver genially. "I don't know if you can see it through the rain, but we're coming up to the manor now."

The young man peered out of the window. It was barely visible, but he could just about make out a dark, huge structure sitting on top of a hill, looking down on the city of Sendai as if it were a crouched gargoyle statue. Despite himself, he felt a chill run down his spine.

The cab trundled up to a massive pair of wrought-iron gates, that formed a break in a huge brick wall which encircled the Ikezawa estates. There was a little caller box set in the stone beside the gate, which the cab driver pulled up to and activated.

A pause of a few seconds, and then a tinny little female voice spoke from the box. It was sweet and girlishly high, with a pleasant lilt.

"Yes? Who's there?"

"I'm just a cab driver, ma'am. A passenger of mine has an appointment up at the Manor."

"And who is your passenger?"

The driver looked at the young man at the back. "Nakai Hisao," he offered.

"Mr Nakai Hisao."

"The reporter? Oh yes, that's right. Wait a moment while I get the gates open." The little red light on the speaker box turned off.

"Do you need me to drive you up to the doors?"

"There's no need, I've got this," said Hisao, holding up his umbrella. He paid the fare and got out of the cab. The chill of the wind immediately cut like a knife right through him, despite his coat. Hisao watched the cab disappear back down the path and waited for the gates to open.

He expected the gates to wrench back with a horrific creaking noise, but instead they slid apart as silently and as easily as a knife cuts through butter. As he passed the threshold and began walking up the garden path that led to the Manor, the gates closed back again behind him with a soft click. Hisao felt as though he had taken his first steps into a strange new world.

The only lights came from the Manor, burning in the distance. They cast enough of a dim glow for Hisao to see the dark shapes surrounding him. What looked like statuary, bushes and hedges cut into interesting figures and forms loomed in the darkness. Hisao cursed, why couldn't his editor had gotten him an interview in the daytime? But no, Ms Ikezawa was a very important person, she had a very busy schedule and he was lucky that she had deigned to give an interview in person at all...

As Hisao got closer he saw that the Manor was built to resemble a traditional Japanese estate, which put him in mind of the fortresses and castles built by shoguns and other warlords in bygone ages. His research indicated that the Manor was indeed quite old, but just how old no one knew. And of course, the successive generations of the Ikezawa family had been adding to it and refurbishing it, each of them leaving their mark on it. Possibly no one knew how many passageways or cellars it had, not even its current occupant.

He reached the front door, debated whether to knock or ring the bell, and went with ringing the bell. He couldn't hear the chimes from outside, which lead him to wonder just how big the house was.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Hisao found himself face-to-face with a beautiful blonde woman, dressed in a conservative long white dress. She was tall for a woman, about the same height as he was. Waves of fine blonde hair flowed down to her waist, done up at the back with a big black ribbon. It was hard to tell how old she was. She had blue eyes too, and the surprise of meeting someone so obviously not Japanese startled Hisao into silence for a long moment.

"Hello?" she prompted.

"I'm sorry. My name is Nakai. Hisao Nakai. I'm the reporter from the city."

"Yes of course, Mr Nakai, it's such a pleasure to meet you," says the woman, giving him a polite bow. Hisao returned the greeting.

"My name is Lilly Satou. Feel free to call me Lilly. I am the butler here at Ikezawa Manor, and I am also the personal assistant to Ms Ikezawa herself."

"You're the butler? I was expecting..."

The blonde woman smiled. She had a lovely smile.

"There are female butlers, you know."

"I...of course, yes. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise. Please, follow me. Your interview will be held in the study."

Hisao trailed after Lilly, marvelling at the manor's lavish furnishings and decorations. There were paintings and statues that wouldn't have looked out of place in a museum. The floor was wood-panelled, but the walls were made out of either stone or white marble. Centuries of history seemed to gaze down on Hisao as he traveled deeper within the house.

"Excuse me, but what do these -" Hisao was cut off in mid-sentence as he noticed something extremely weird. His guide had a hand outstretched, and was letting her fingers brush over the wall.

"Yes?" she replied.

"I'm sorry but...are you visually impaired?"

Lilly laughed, a short melodious sound.

"Yes indeed, I have been blind since birth."

Hisao didn't know what to say to that. Several questions presented themselves almost immediately. How did someone who was born blind maintain such a huge house? He hadn't seen any other servants since entering the place, although he supposed they could have gone to bed. Why would Ms Ikezawa employ a blind butler in the first place? She seemed more eccentric and mysterious than ever.

He kept his questions to himself, in the end. Lilly continued walking serenely on, as if Hisao had never spoken.

They eventually reached a pair of large wooden double doors with a small brass plaque at the top that simply read 'STUDY'. Lilly stopped in front of it and knocked twice.

"I-Is that you Lilly?" came a voice within the study. Hisao was intrigued. It wasn't the strong, confident voice he'd imagined of such a rich and influential woman. It was high and strained, as if the very act of speaking was a great effort.

"It's me, Mistress Ikezawa. I'm here with Mr Nakai Hisao, the reporter from the Sendai Times. He's here for your interview?"

"What interview?"

Hisao could see Lilly's shoulders drop a little, as if annoyed by the answer. But when she spoke again her voice was as calm and as exact as ever.

"The one you agreed to do in return for not making a television appearance, Mistress Ikezawa. I reminded you this afternoon, do you remember?"

"Ah, yes. Please, show Mr Nakai in."

Lilly pushed open the door, motioning for Hisao to step inside. The study was another huge room, lit up by a roaring fireplace set in the far corner. The other walls were lined with shelves and shelves of books save one, which instead featured long French windows that afforded anyone in the room a spectacular view of the sweeping lawns and gardens. Or would have, if it wasn't nighttime and pouring down with rain.

There were two high backed armchairs near the fireplace, and the mistress of the Manor beckoned Hisao to sit in the other. He sat down and came face to face with Ms Ikezawa Hanako for the very first time.

Hisao had been warned by his editor, of course. And after his time spent on the crime desk there was little that shocked him. But still, it was hard not to stare. The rumours were true. She was wearing a vivid red old-fashioned dress with a skirt that reached to the floor, and she had long dark hair that obscured much of her face, but Hisao could still see that she was heavily scarred on the right side of her face and neck. Burn scars. All those years since the fire, and the mark it had left on Hanako would never go away.

He realised too late that he had been silent for too long, and spoke up quickly to introduce himself. "Ms Ikezawa, it's a pleasure to meet you. Nakai Hisao, reporter from the Sendai Times. Thank you for granting us this interview."

"The pleasure is mine," said Ms Ikezawa, sounding anything but pleased. "Would you take a glass of wine, Mr Nakai?"

"I uh, don't drink."

"Don't you?" She was looking at him calmly from under her curtain of hair. Her voice no longer sounded strained, but instead as calm and flat as the waters of a pond in the winter. Her eyes flicked up and down, as if coolly appraising this stranger who had entered her domain. "Do we have other refreshments, Lilly?"

"Indeed we do, yes," said Lilly gaily. Hisao had forgotten she was still in the room. "Care for some tea, Mr Nakai?"

"Thank you." Hisao accepted a cup, and tried not to stare back as Lilly filled up Ms Ikezawa's wine glass with a rich red vintage and stepped back. She had a penetrating gaze indeed, and Hisao felt as if his very soul was being laid bare on some operating table, to be examined at leisure.

Lilly cleared up her cups and bottles and left the study. The door closed with a soft click and Hisao was alone with his interviewee. Well, he had been in more uncomfortable situations (although he was finding it hard to remember what those were at the moment). Time to make the most of it.

"May I use a tape recorder? Just a routine thing really, for my own reference."

"No," said Ms Ikezawa, in that same flat, dead tone. She took a sip from her glass, and resumed watching him.

So it was going to be that kind of interview. Not to be deterred, he took out his notebook instead. And the interview began.

Hisao started by asking a few lowball questions, things that he could easily find out otherwise. But even those were met with a defensiveness as fierce as a garrison under siege. Ms Ikezawa seemed to treat even the smallest conversations as a kind of battle, and delighted in deflecting away the most innocent inquiries. Talking to her was like wringing blood from a stone.

After about half an hour, Hisao was too fed up to care. He put down his pen.

"Ms Ikezawa, we're not making much headway here."

"Good."

"I mean, I need to write a story and you're giving me nothing. I've asked for access to your corporate headquarters in the city and it's been denied. This interview is all I have and you're not giving me anything."

She sighed. "Fine then. I'll let you ask one more question. What is it you want to know?"

In his panic Hisao seized upon the most obvious.

"What happened on the night of the fire?"

Her eyes narrowed, and Hisao felt as though he had run through a forest only to find himself teetering on the edge of a cliff.

"I thought I told your editor. No questions about that."

"Y-yes, but you told me to ask..."

"I was in an accident when I was a child," Ms Ikezawa said surprisingly. "A fire. The same one that killed my parents. I would have died too, if not for my mother. She shielded me with her own body. That was the last thing she ever did in her life, and she did it for me."

Hisao waited, but apparently that was all she was willing to say. Still, it was more than he had a minute ago.

"And now Mr Nakai, I think it's time for you to leave. Good night."

As Hisao left the study, he could feel Ms Ikezawa's eyes on him with every step. Lilly was there to meet him at the door, and to show him out.

"I've called a cab for you, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, thank you."

"How was the interview?"

"Not the best I've ever had," said Hisao resignedly. Lilly chuckled.

"The mistress is like that. I'm surprised she even decided to have this interview."

"At least she told me about the accident. And the fire."

"Oh? She very rarely speaks of it."

"I don't suppose you could tell me more?"

"I'm sorry," said Lilly, with an apologetic smile. (How the hell does she know how to do that, if she's been blind from birth?) "If the mistress doesn't wish to speak of it, it's not my place to say anything more."

"I see...oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Until next time, Mr Nakai."

"Thank you, Ms Satou. Goodnight."

Lilly opened the main door, and waited until she couldn't hear the cab's engine fade away in the distance. She made her way back to the study, where as she guessed, Hanako was there still.

"How was your interview, Mistress Ikezawa?"

"A pain."

"I heard you told him about the fire."

"You hear a lot of things," said Hanako curtly. But Lilly didn't take offense. She had known Hanako all her life, and they were as close as it was possible for two people to be.

"I had to," Hanako said at last. "Otherwise he wouldn't go away. Annoyingly persistent, that man."

"Reporters tend to be," said Lilly. "And now, will the Mistress have an early night?" Her question ended on a hopeful note.

"Of course not. It's time to work."

"You've worked the whole day, Mistress Ikezawa. Meetings, stock market reports, tours of the R&D labs..."

"My important work, Lilly."

Lilly didn't sigh. A good personal assistant never sighs at what she perceives to be the bloody mule-headed stubbornness of her employer.

"Very well then. Let us abandon the terrifying spectre of a feather bed with Egyptian cotton sheets and adjourn to the comforts of a dark, dripping wet cavern."

Of course, there was nothing in the protocol about being sarcastic.

xxxx

Hisao's cab trundled back to the city, but he realised too late that he had forgotten to make a trip to the ATM and he didn't have enough money in his wallet to take him all the way back to his apartment. The driver let him out in return for everything he had, and Hisao was forced to walk back more than ten blocks in the rain.

He splashed through the puddles, holding his umbrella up with one arm, his other thrust deep into his coat pocket where his notebook was kept. It was all he had to write a story on, and if he lost even that he was screwed.

Hisao tried to keep to the well-lit areas, but they were few and far in between. There wasn't another soul around. It was well past the hour when even drunks from the bars had already staggered off home for the night. The people of Sendai tried not to be out and about at this time.

He walked on through the rain, trying not to think about the fact that the shadows around him were moving, trying not to think about the little noises behind him that sounded a lot like footsteps, trying not to think about such things as statistics and crime scenes...

A huge dark shape emerged from a doorway and stood directly in front of Hisao. Two other figures loomed up beside him. He didn't have to turn around to know there were others behind him as well.

He stopped walking. The largest of the group extended a gloved hand.

"Give me your wallet."

Hisao had to fight to keep his teeth from chattering together. "I-I don't have a-any money. My wallet's empty."

"The wallet. Or my friends and I will be angry."

Hisao reached into his pocket and extracted his wallet with shaking fingers. The mugger took it from him and inspected it contents. He then tossed it aside into a puddle.

"This clown wasn't kidding." A low, unhappy noise rumbled through the group surrounding Hisao. His eyes darted left and right, but he knew it was useless. One good kick to the chest and it would all be over...

Something whizzed out of the darkness and struck with a faint thunk. One of the thugs fell face-first onto the rain-soaked street, very suddenly. Hisao didn't know who was more shocked, him or the rest of the gang. The leader suddenly grabbed him by the front of his shirt, making him drop his umbrella.

"Who did this? Who's with you?"

"I don't know!"

"You better not be fucking with me, you moron!"

"I don't know what's going on!"

The gang leader raised his fist, and a long thin line snaked out from above, coiling around his wrist and snapping tight. Before he could so much as yell, the leader was suddenly propelled upwards. The rest of the gang watched him go in utter shock. Hisao took advantage of the moment to break away and duck into the nearest alleyway.

He heard a huge splash, and then screams of terror. And then the sharp, meaty sound of a fist being driven into flesh over and over. If they knew he was still there he'd surely die. But he had to know what was going on.

Hisao peeked around the wall, and saw a dark shadowy thing lash out at the last man with what looked like shadowy claws in his mind's eye, driving him backwards so hard he bounced off a brick wall and was too winded to even groan in pain.

His jaw dropped, but before he could even yell the mysterious apparition seemed to dart up the side of a building and disappear into the night. He looked around at the dazed, broken men around him, with only little bubbling noises and feeble movements of their fingers to show that they were still alive.

Then he came to his senses and got the hell out of there. And as he ran, all he could think about was whether his editor would let him write a crime story that took up most of the front page.

xxxx

On the rooftop of an apartment block, the dark figure watched Hisao scurry off home. Then it shook its head, muttered something unintelligible and ran to the other side.

Without pausing it dove off the rooftop, arms and legs extended in a graceful swan dive. At this height the fall would kill almost anyone. But it met the wall opposite with both feet, pushed off and managed a controlled landing right in the alley below.

With the push of a button, a suspiciously empty alley became significantly less empty when a huge black vehicle materialised out of nowhere with the subtle shimmering that hinted at fancy holo-imaging cloaking technology that international Special Forces teams would kill to get their hands on. It was a vehicle, because luxury cars weren't armour plated and it lacked the gun barrel of a tank and after a while you just gave up trying to find the right name for it and concentrated on the fact that it looked tough enough to survive a direct atomic strike.

The dark figure climbed into the cockpit of the massive vehicle and gunned the engines. They would not have looked out of place on a jet fighter. With a huge roar it sped away, keeping to the backstreets and the forgotten roads, heading for the outskirts of the city.

"That...tank thing. Much more subtle."

"Subtlety is not the point, Lilly."

"Oh? So you'll not be wearing a mask and alerting the media as to the time and place of your latest nocturnal jaunt then?"

"You know that's not what I meant. The Tumbler is meant to send a message. The criminals and other scum hear the engine's roar, and they know they're not safe."

"What about the innocent civilians of Sendai, mistress, the ones who simply want a decent night's rest?"

"I could walk through that city for a day and not run into any."

Eventually it left the city behind, coming into a thickly forested and hilly area, with the proper roads giving way to muddy trails. Despite the closeness of the trees, the huge Tumbler weaved in and out narrowly avoiding all obstacles with a practiced ease. There was a cliff up ahead, and a natural waterfall pouring into a devilishly deep chasm...

Jump

The Tumbler burst through the curtain of water and roared into a gigantic cavern, worn down by water and time over countless milennia and more recently reshaped to fit a far more interesting purpose than cultivating stalagmites and stalactites. The wet rock pathway ended in a stainless steel round platform, which after a moment's pause smoothly rose up and up with only the faintest hint of a mechanical creaking until it reached an upper level, rotating automatically to allow the driver to step outside and face the cavern's other occupant.

Lilly Satou was standing there, carrying a tea tray with one hand and her cane in the other. Her eyes were closed. She did that often, closed eyes making no difference to her, but for now it was meant to convey her irritation with the driver of the Tumbler.

She removed her helmet and undid a clip, and waves of long dark hair fell free, obscuring the scarred features as always. Ikezawa Hanako, Mistress of the Manor, had returned.

She walked past Lilly, pausing only to snatch the cup of tea from the tray, and settled herself in a high-backed chair parked in front of a gleaming super-computer. It had more processing power than entire nations worth of electronics and hummed quietly all the time. She found it rather soothing.

The same couldn't be said of her butler's temper of course. It was a rare thing, mostly hidden and drawn out only to make a point, but there was no mistaking it when it did appear.

"You're angry."

"I am not," said Lilly huffily. "I'm...concerned. That's all."

"You think I should give this up. Everything I've worked for."

"It would certainly be easier on your health and my peace of mind, Mistress Ikezawa."

"Don't 'Mistress' me Lilly, it was embarrassing enough to have you do it in front of that reporter."

"You are Mistress of the Manor and proper protocol dictates you be referred to as such," said Lilly. "Sadly it does not provide any guidelines on what to do should one's Mistress be obsessed with going around at night beating up the scum of Sendai with her bare fists."

"You don't know that was what I was doing."

"I hazarded a guess. Was I wrong?"

"...no."

"What was it this time?"

"I didn't get hurt, if that's what you meant."

"That's not what I meant. I thought after that interview you'd at least try to lay low for a little while..."

"It was him, actually. That Nakai fellow. The idiot tried to walk home. I stopped a gang from murdering him."

Lilly wanted to say something sharp, but Hanako did save a man's life. And she was intrigued as well.

"You followed him?"

"I...I did not. I just happened to see him."

"Ah-ha."

"Lilly, you know I hate it when you say something in that self-satisfied tone of yours."

"My apologies, Mistress."

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"You're acting like you know something. Out with it."

"It's just nice to see the richest woman in Sendai finally take an interest in one of the many available bachelors in the city."

"Lilly. It's nothing like that."

"I'm sure it's not, Mistress."

"How do you know he's a bachelor anyway?"

"I do have the password to your crime computer, you know."

"Lilly, that thing is meant to be used for serious criminal research. Not frivolous activities like stalking people online."

"Goodness me, and here I thought you were the one following him around at night..."

Hanako scowled. Even though Lilly couldn't see it, she heard her snort of contempt and grinned to herself.

"This conversation is over."

"Very well, Mistress."

"I mean it."

"As you will, Mistress."

"You didn't delete that search from the computer's memory banks, did you?"

"No, Mistress."

"Ah. Good."