Chapter 58
The man born from fire
As they left the bustling streets of the Shotengai, they found themselves back amid the older district. It was part of the old quarter, just a few miles from Masako Fumie's family cafe. Rebuilt fifteen years ago, the address remained hidden, lost in time. To find it, Satou-san had to do quite a bit of digging. An atmosphere of portentous quality descended upon the group as they tread along cobbled roads. Shinichi clasped Shiho tightly, who had her auburn hair tucked neatly under the hooded jacket he loaned to her. The girl was more alert—recent events making it so.
"You think we'll get anything from this, Kudou?" Heiji asked. The tanned detective held onto the files Satou-san had acquired earlier. Scanning through the contents, he remained skeptical. "Even if we did find the house...what could we gain?"
"Clues of an origin," Sera interrupted. The electric lights around the area are remarkably dim. Above, the distinctive banners of the Nakano family hung ominously. They waved sinisterly in the wind as if calling them forward, a warning. "Perhaps we can find out more about the fires that—"
"Killed my parents," Shiho finished.
The detectives and inspector gave her weary, worried looks.
"I'm fine," she assured them before pointing toward the encroaching building.
It loomed, emerging from the shadowy recesses of the streets. It was an unassuming two-story building with a green brass gate and a maze of willow trees hiding the entrance. A glow radiated from a gothic lamp hung from an arch above the gate. Although it allowed them to see the brass-plated house number, it did not illuminate the area around it. The gate itself was adorned with intricately carved medieval dragons. Behind it were willow trees and the white-gray building of the Nakano's residence. As they approached it, Shinichi took note of the stone-worked sculptures—devils, angels, golems, and some mythical Japanese youkai— that clung to the sides of an arched brick roof.
The house is an eerie concoction made worse by the spidery branches of the willow trees resembling the claws of various made-up monsters.
"It's missing something," Sera snorted, "Thunder…or lightning, perhaps?"
"Add Dracula, and you'll complete the picture," Heiji muttered.
Goosebumps formed on Shinichi's skin as a frosty blast blew past. The gates creaked, and he exchanged an uneasy glance with Heiji briefly.
"No use moping about," Satou-san marched forward.
The inspector switches on the flashlight on her phone. It emitted a bright white light, allowing Shinichi to spot the out-of-place electronic bell.
They stared at it with apprehension.
"You do it," Heiji pushed Shinichi forward.
"What—why?"
"Because you're the leader!" the Osaka detective snapped.
"So now I'm the leader, you coward!"
"I'm not! I'm just—"
"Scared," Sera mocked with raised brows. "Come on. We haven't got all day."
"Then you do it," Heiji pushed her forward this time. The girl sputtered at their insistence, then glanced wearily at the building ahead. Sera swallowed sheepishly, rubbing her head sheepishly. "Actually…"
"Oh, for the love of god," Shiho grumbled. The scientist, tired of their antics, pressed the button. Following three slight beeps, the electronic bell blinked red, and then a static-laced voice. A croaky murmur came from the other end, and Sera and Heiji jumped.
"Who is this?" a mysterious woman asked.
"The police," Satou-san answered when Shiho failed to respond.
"The police?"
"Yes, we have some questions regarding the fire."
"Again?" the woman replied curtly, "How many times must I repeat myself? The incident had nothing to do with Nakano-sama."
"Pardon our visit, but it's formalities, erm…"
"Takeuchi-san," the woman provided a name. The red doors creaked slightly, revealing a relatively short, plump woman in her late 70s. She wore her gray hair in a ponytail tied and pinned back neatly. In addition to holding a cane, she had on heavy-looking glasses that magnified her brown chestnut eyes, making her look like a—goldfish. The old woman hobbled forward, wearing a traditional plain kimono with an apron in front.
"Ichika Takeuchi-san," the woman introduced herself. "I am the Nakano family housekeeper. What business do you have with Nakano-sama?"
"Nakano-sama?" Shinichi murmured. It was something he hadn't expected. Shinichi recalls the surname from Akai's notes about sunset manor. Despite their differences, Karasuma and Nakano were connected. Rei's suspicions discussed the other day in the cafe, were accurate.
"I am Satomi Harada, an Inspector with the Japanese Metropolitan Police," Satou-san showed the housekeeper a police badge with a pseudonym. "Concerning the incident from 17 years ago, could we—"
"Take a look inside," Shinichi interrupts, catching sight of the old woman's faded tattoo on her left arm. He frowned as he noted the irregularity tucked under her long sleeves.
A goat?
"A little young to be inspectors, aren't we," the old woman studied them curiously.
"They work for me," Satou-san lied.
"Follow me," The housekeeper snorted, then gestured to the door. Shinichi was about to move forward when he realized Shiho lagging behind.
"Shiho?" The girl stood stiffly, taut like a statue, hands balled into fists.
Shinichi understands her reservations. After all, he felt the same. Even with the FBI's confirmation, Shinichi had no idea what to expect in this house of horrors, and they were still at risk of being attacked by the Organization's members. Still, Shinichi had to do this to proceed, but—
"You don't have to subject yourself to this," he suggested gently, and Shiho snorted, dismissing his proposal. Inhaling deeply, Shinichi takes her hand once again.
"You could wait by the car with Satou-san," he nagged.
"...Run away," she muttered, barely audible.
"Shiho?"
"I'm not running away," she started. There is a quiet fire burning within those green eyes. "You told me…to face it," she muttered as he regarded her. "And, besides…" Shiho trailed off, her fingers wrapping around his own, squeezing it tight.
She faces him with a wistful smile.
Warmth seeps into his chest as he deduces the meaning behind her unspoken words.
Sighing deeply, Shinichi flicks her forehead once before relenting.
"Ok, then," he smiles softly as they approach the oppressive house ahead. "Remember Shiho, if it gets too much—"
"I'll throw you into the pit and run?"
"Oi."
Shiho expected the stench of arid smoke, charred wood boards, and burnt furniture. Yet, when they stepped into the narrow corridors of the Nakano residence, Shiho was met with the cozy, toasty heat of a heater. They are surrounded by walls lined with patterned velvet linen. Several mirrors covered the foyer, ranging from large gothic mirrors to small hanging ones. Dust bunnies rose from the floorboard where they stepped, Shiho sneezing slightly. For a place decorated so luxuriously, it was surprisingly—dirty.
Takeuchi-san led them to the living room, where a portrait was pinned. It towered above a softly burning fireplace, and before it was a single cup of tea resting on a circular coffee table. A book is nestled in a high-raised sofa with the same velvet color as the linen walls. The lacquered floors creaked as they approached the black-and-white portrait of a stiff-looking man in a black suit. Bald and bearing the stern look of a household head. In front of him, a kimono-wearing woman with countless rings on her fingers sat blankly, hands placed across her lap.
"Is that him?" Heiji whispered to Shinichi. The detective regarded the portrait with scrutiny. Shiho takes a sharp breath. There was a resemblance, but he was different.
"The late Hideaki Nakano," Takeuchi-san introduced. The woman studied them as they looked at the portrait. She holds a kettle in her hands. There was still a little steam coming from it. Satou-san assists the frail woman with setting the kettle down on a coaster.
She gestures to the neatly arranged cups on the tables. They were intricately designed—blue china. There was a sheen of dust on them, evidently not used for a long time. "My apologies, but you've arrived on such short notice…" she trailed off.
"It's alright, Takeuchi-san. We weren't expecting any sort of hospitality anyway," Satou-san smiled curtly.
"Why are the authorities interested in the incident...again?" The woman glanced at the inspector. "I thought it had been closed?"
"New developments have occurred," Heiji holds up the file Satou-san had acquired earlier.
"I already told the previous detectives everything years ago...has the case reopened?" the housekeeper placed a finger on her chin as she contemplated their visit.
"Yes," Satou-san replied, her eyebrows twitching as she lied. "There had been a few incidents that prompted the decision."
"Incidents?"
"Police confidentiality," Shinichi interjected.
"Well, I'm not sure what else to say. I have disclosed everything I have witnessed to the authorities who interviewed me. It was 17…no, yes, 17 years ago. Only the skeletal framework of the house remained after the fire, so Nakano-sama gave me the money and blueprint to reconstruct it."
"Blueprint?" Shinichi asked, and Takeuchi-san nodded.
As Shinichi and the others continued to question her, Shiho felt their voices fade away. She couldn't concentrate. There was something about the house that didn't sit right with her.
Trying to focus, she instead started scanning through her surroundings.
The decor was out of place. Hideaki Nakano's pictures and portraits were adorning the velvet walls in an unorganized manner. A large space was missing between the portraits, and markings on the clothed wall indicated missing portraits that were most probably taken down. In addition, there was strange furniture and statues all over the place. Yes, Shiho realizes the inconsistencies. They didn't fit a single theme. For example, next to the fireplace was a European-style chair, and before it was a table that was Japanese in design. There were also Ivory sculptures of African origin displayed around the sides of what Shiho could only assume was a living room. Two Indian elephant carvings were followed by another display featuring Russian stacking dolls arranged on top of a Korean pearl lacquered cabinet, intricately adorned with dragons and phoenixes. The curtains, too, come in different colors and styles. Some were drapes; others were window meshes.
Not only was the decor weird but the placement of the rooms too.
Shiho recalls the strange protruding section along the corridors, seemingly out of place in the inky dark hallways.
"Yes, after the incident, I hired contractors with the funds Nakano-sama provided to rebuild his family's home," Takeuchi-san continued, drawing Shiho's attention back to the topic.
"Hmm…" Shinichi frowned. "Takeuchi-san, if you don't mind me asking…where exactly were you when the fires started?"
The woman glances at them, then at the glowing embers, smoking softly at the fireplace. In her solemn brown eyes, orange flames danced as she related the story.
"I was at my mother's house. She had an illness. I wrote to Nakano-sama about my mother's circumstances, and he granted me permission to visit her. He even sent me some additional funds to assist in her recovery. When I returned, though, I was shocked to find the residence in much disrepair. I was at a loss for what to do. I thought I had lost my job and temporary residence, but two months later, Nakano-sama contacted me."
"Wait, you wrote to him. You've never met him in person before?" Sera noticed the woman's inconsistency.
"In my 25 years of working in this house, I have only met Nakano-sama once during my tenure. He is a very busy man."
Shinichi studied the housekeeper. "Could you tell us more about your meeting with him?"
The woman hesitated before nodding.
"On that winter night 17 years ago. We met at a small cafe. I apologize for the mess the incident has caused. It was the first time we'd met, and I was ready to be fired from the job as I failed to protect his family home in my absence. Nakano-sama, however, was kind."
The woman smiled, "I understand the strange circumstances, and the incident was indeed dreadful, but Nakano-sama would never start the fires."
"Takeuchi-san, I'm sorry you weren't here when the fires started. How are you so sure? Do you know something we don't?" Satou-san voiced out what the detectives were thinking. Putting a finger to her lips, the woman stares at the file Heiji placed on the dining table.
"He was away on business," she said defensively. Shinichi's scrutinizing gaze caught Shiho's attention as he reached into his pockets to retrieve a photograph. He slides it across the table toward Takeuchi-san.
Somewhere, a grandfather's clock chimed. Shiho's blood went cold as the old housekeeper gazed at the image. "That's Nakano-sama," Takeuchi-san confirmed. "Hideaki Nakano's son."
Observing through a single eye, a smile stuck in place forever, insidious in nature—Rum.
"This is the man I met in the cafe," Takeuchi-san smiled warmly. To her, meeting Nakano-sama was a pleasant memory. "He assured me that I would keep my job, that I wanted me to take charge of rebuilding the house, giving me specific instructions. He also handed me the funds and a floor plan. Even though Nakano-sama has never visited the residence, he allowed me to stay in it and often sends interesting trinkets and furniture back to decorate it."
"You never found this weird?" Heiji snorts.
"I must admit the decor and structure of the house are a little odd, but it isn't my place to complain about my employer's taste. It wouldn't be professional of me."
"I assume you live here now? Maintaining the property, despite what you know?" Sera continued.
"What are you implying?" The woman glanced wearily at them, eyes narrowing at their insinuations. And Shiho spots it, the faint tail end of a lie.
"There are rumors that the fire started here, and yes, people died in it, but that was 17 years ago. It was an accident, an unfortunate…accident."
And Shiho sees red. She remembers the businessman, Satoru Mikeda, dying alone hours earlier—along the Shotengai streets. A photo slipped into her hands, given to her by the innocent man who was injected with her drug and forced to pass the message by monsters determined to destroy her psyche.
In the image, a distressed woman was tied to a pillar in an attic. A square-faced Japanese man, wearing spectacles that were tied beside her, had been stabbed and was clearly dead. His light blue shirt was stained with scarlet blood. The woman's strawberry blonde hair was chopped off. As tears rolled down her deep green eyes, swollen purplish bruises covered her cheeks and neck. Elena's lips curled into a desperate cry as the fires raged behind her. She had been begging...for her life. Tortured and left to burn alive in this insidious place.
It was probably the last photograph a one-eyed demon took—the last moments of her parent's lives.
An accident?
"No," she seethes. As she festered, the sharp sting in her chest throbs violently. A hot, boiling mess like acid rushed through as she glared at the indifferent woman before her. Whether guilty, ignorant, blind, or fooled—the housekeeper had helped bury his crime.
"It wasn't," Shiho tried to control herself, "This was not an accident!"
Takeuchi-san sat motionless, her hands tightening around her cane.
"They were returning to you," Shinichi had told her in the diner they ate at earlier, revealing to her the contents of the lost diary Yusaku Kudou had found, containing written words from a father she would never meet. "They weren't monsters," Shinichi assured her, "in fact, they were scared of the experiments and forced into circumstances they had no control over."
"They were escaping, coming for Akemi and you, but..." Shinichi could not continue.
Shiho knew their fate.
Her anger seared through her like the raging 17-year-old fire that refused to quell.
"They were murdered," she snapped. "They were killed, and you hid it!"
"It was an accident," the woman repeated. "Nakano-sama was never around. He could not have started the fire even if he wanted to."
"He sent you home, didn't he? To visit your mother and spend time with her when you were the only housekeeper. You didn't question it? You didn't ask why!?"
"No," the woman stubbornly insisted, "At the time of the incident, Nakano-sama was on a business trip. It was most likely vagrants that started the fires. It was not uncommon in those days for people to hold a deep hatred for the Nakano family."
Takeuchi-san must have realized it—she should have. Her master's insistence on rebuilding the house he had never visited. The money given—received, and pocketed as the injustice prevails around her. As she continued to perpetuate the lie, the crime was buried deep. And in return, it became her truth.
"You—" Shiho wanted to rip the woman to shreds, but a hand was placed firmly on her shoulder. Shinichi shakes his head, azure blue eyes stopping her in her tracks. Squeezing her gently, he then addressed the woman.
"Even so, could we look around the vicinity?" he asked calmly, "For investigation purposes."
"Why not," the housekeeper sighed, "But I fail to see how you can find anything of interest in an incident that occurred 17 years ago. Moreover, the old structure has been destroyed, and what remains is…this."
"We understand. But we need to confirm some statements as there are inconsistencies," Shinichi explained as the woman scowled.
"If letting you search the house would stop this incessant speculation about my master's innocence, I'll oblige. However, please be mindful when handling the furniture and figurines."
"Ok. Could I ask you a few more questions?" Sera asked as the woman sighed again. Shiho drowned out the chatter as the detectives prepared for a search.
The memories of burnt bodies make it hard to function.
A future she could have lost because of—
In the middle of the table, the photograph of Rum remains. His smile—a mockery.
Picking it up, she crumples it, crushing the man's face into a heap. The action did not subdue her rage.
"Shiho."
Observing her, Shinichi embraced her. Although his body was warm, it was doing nothing. She felt like a block of ice. She wanted nothing more than to—
"Take a break, Shiho," Shinichi muttered, and she nods stiffly, unable to muster the strength to argue.
"Satou-san will accompany you," before letting go, Shinichi squeezed her tightly. "I'll get to the bottom of this. I promise."
He left, moving deeper into the house with Heiji, Sera, and Takeuchi-san.
"Ai-chan?" Satou-san asked. The inspector's worried gaze came into view. "Are you ok?"
While releasing her stranglehold on Rum's photo, Shiho smirks, looking at the ground.
"I don't know," she glares at Rum's disfigured image, a taunting menace, and crushes it once more. "I don't know anymore."
Through dust-kissed windows, silvery moonlight peaked through the waning darkness. An old Persian carpet lined the oak wood flooring beneath their feet. Gold-blue colors faded, and sooty dust settled between the fibers. Dressers beside the hallway were covered in a thin layer of gray dust; vases, porcelain, and clay, were also coated with a fine layer of dirt.
Next to him, Sera sneezes. Shinichi notices the girl detective's nose turning red. Looking like Rudolf, the red-nose reindeer, she sniffled again before taking a tissue from her jean pockets, placing it over her nose, and wiping at her watery eyes.
"Allergies?" Heiji waved at a spiderweb they just passed through, frowning at the sight of the reading room Takuechi-san had led them to. Upon turning on the lights, warm light illuminated the tall Javanese wood shelves. Shinichi was reminded of the library at the Kudou mansion. There were books lining every wall in the room. There were books on the floor, on the wood-stained tables, and on all the mahogany cabinets and stools. On the ledge of the window were browning and withered ferns.
"The stairs to the second floor are down this way," Takeuchi-san instructed. The old woman hobbled along. Shinichi noted that she had a bad left knee. She ambled painstakingly—and it took effort. "About the floorplans," Shinichi reminded her, and she nodded thoughtfully.
"I will get them for you. They should be in my living quarters," she said, "I am afraid I cannot climb the stairs, so you'll have to explore it on your own."
"That's fine, Takeuchi-san. You can pass the blueprints to the Inspector once you've retrieved them," Shinichi answered as the woman scrutinized him.
"It will be a waste of time," she continued, "The previous detectives that investigated before have not found anything. And I repeat," she glared at them, "Nakano-sama is a respectable employer. He had nothing to do with the fire."
Shinichi did not respond. She was lying. He could tell by her shifting, almost twitchy stance. Secrets kept hidden—based on loyalty or client confidentiality—Shinichi did not want to understand. Whatever her agenda, he was determined to unearth it.
"We understand," he said sweetly, giving her a curt smile as she snorted again before grumbling and hobbling off into what Shinichi could only assume were her living quarters.
"Kudou-kun, I'm sure you've noticed," Sera sneezed again as Heiji settled into one of the single duvet sofas. A dust cloud rose in clumps, and she glared at him with contempt.
"If she's a professional," The Osaka Detective jokes, "I must be a saint."
Shinichi agreed. Takeuchi-san, though claiming to be an experienced housekeeper, has failed to keep the place clean. The house, an amalgamation of expensive furniture and objects, was covered in dust, spider cobwebs, and the occasional droppings of small animals. It, coupled with the saturnine darkness, was unbefitting of a residence belonging to one of the wealthiest families in Japan. The place looked like it hadn't been lived in for a long time, contrary to what Takeuchi-san had said about caring for and living in it. It was as if she had been conveniently stationed here to meet them.
There was also the nature of the faded tattoo.
That of a goat. Morbid in nature, serpent-like eyes, though faded, were imprinted against wrinkled skin. Though the supposed "housekeeper" had not taken great care to conceal it, Shinichi couldn't help but think of the Takizaki family and their supposed monikers. Of "Snakes" and "Spiders." Codenames that bore the marks of animals…that were somehow or somewhat connected to a Kaitou Kid.
"Why hire a housekeeper who cannot perform simple tasks?" Heiji questioned. Shinichi had his suspicions, but they were simply speculations at the moment.
"To hide something, I suppose one must find someone who can be controlled easily and isn't curious," Sera replied. "A perfect puppet."
"Easy to manipulate, old, unable to think for herself," Heiji completed.
"That's a little harsh, isn't it," Sera quipped. "She might be, after all, a pawn in his schemes."
"Still perpetuating a lie, she gets no sympathy from me for defending a cold-hearted murderer. Moreover," Heiji glanced at Shinichi. "The little nee-chan was…" the Osaka detective trailed off. An uncomfortable silence persisted as they made their way forward. The photo Sera showed them, given to Shiho by a dying man just hours earlier, was still fresh in their minds.
There was no doubt that Shiho's parents had been abused. They were likely tortured, tied, and burned alive after being lured into the house by Rum. The image of Elena Miyano's tear-soaked, bruised face was enough. Shinichi balls his hands into fists, feeling nails digging into his palms as they made their way up the stairs.
A poorly maintained floorboard creaked and sank under their weight. Darkness swirled around them, the dim candle-like light doing nothing to alleviate it.
It felt—haunted.
Japanese noh masks were pinned to peeling wallpaper walls along the stairwell, adding to the eeriness. They had gaping mouths, sharp teeth, and red eyes looking back, depicting mythical creatures, people in myths, and—
"What the hell!" Heiji shrieked, recoiling from the sight of the pale-faced mask pinned at the top of the stairs with beady black eyes and long sabertooth fangs.
The second level was darker than usual and carried with it an oppressive silence. There were windows placed in strange corners. Doors that led nowhere and rooms that protruded along the empty corridor. It felt more like a trick house than a home.
"The Winchester mansion," Sera commented as they made their way down the corridors. Shinichi had to use his phone torch to light up the place. As Sera opened a door, they were greeted by a blank wall. Again, it was a dead end leading nowhere. This was the fourth one.
"That famous haunted house in America?" Heiji asked, "What about it?"
"This place reminds me of that," Sera motioned to yet another protruding portion along the hallway. Shinichi opens the rotted wooden door of the aforementioned room to find himself in a bare space with no furniture. "It looks more like an RPG game," Heiji remarked.
"If I'm not mistaken," Sera confided, "the Winchester Mansion features rooms that lead nowhere and corridors with windows facing inwards. Some doors also led to far drops—a possible safety hazard."
"To confuse the spirits," Shinichi remarked, recalling a fact he once read.
"Spirits, again with the spirits," Heiji mused. "What next, werewolves?"
"For once, I agree with you," Sera said.
"Yep, that's right. There are no ghosts, only faint—" There was a loud groan, and Heiji jumped. The Osaka detective held onto Sera as the tomboy exclaimed slightly. They looked at Shinichi, who was amused by them. His feet hovered over a sunken floorboard that needed to be repaired.
"You guys were saying?" he teased.
"Kudou!"
"Whether it was spirits or not," Shinichi chuckled at their flustered expressions, "the fact that the Winchester house was constructed that way reveals something about Sarah Winchester."
Shinichi gestures to the trinkets and furniture scattered about the corridor. "After all, a home reflects its master does it not?"
"Are you saying Rum resembles Sarah Winchester?" Sera questioned. "A woman paranoid that people killed by her husband's inventions would return as spirits to kill her, so built a trick house to confuse them?"
"Maybe, or, " Shinichi shines his phone torch on the phoenixes faintly carved into the walls of the corridor. They were intricately carved into the wood. A bird's crest, with wings, outstretched and chest puffed up. Rising from ash, fire erupts from its wings in full splendor.
Heiji folded his arms as Sera frowned.
"What is his purpose exactly, Kudou-kun?" Sera muttered. "I know you're still keeping some details under wraps, but why has Rum lured us here…led Shiho-chan…here? A wild goose chase?"
"They are partners, Kudou. Not much is known about their deal with each other, but while many in the Organization believed Soma to be the leader, it was not the case. You could say Rum was a perfect example of a shadow boss. While Soma Karasuma's intentions were clear—we knew that he wanted to rule, conquer, and cure the illness that had plagued him all his life, Rum's motives were not," Shinichi remembered Furuya Rei's words.
Formerly Bourbon, the man had gone into detail, information extracted during his time in the organization. Data not found on the thumb drive Shiho had provided, but by spying on the two monsters. "Even though they often clashed, they relied on one another. Due to Soma's influence and wealth, cover-ups were possible. And Rum being a shrewd strategist, saw through ruses before they even began. They made a dream team."
"However, as with most partnerships formed on contracts, there were cracks in his alliances. Soma did not like the way Rum operated. While Soma was ruthless, he still followed rules and contracts. Rum was different. He was a rule breaker giving preferential treatment— especially to those who worked in the labs. Their partnership was formed when the Karasuma group executed their rivals in Sunset Mansion. This resulted in the birth of the black organization. Rum, however, did not reveal everything. Soma, the heir to Renya Karasuma, was dispensable to him, as with everyone else. He would use anything in his search. Nothing else mattered. And his intentions, I suspect, lied somewhere with—"
Shinichi paused. The implications of the revelation are startling enough. In addition to the house's décor, Rum's origins solidified a theory simmering in his head for months. "We have awakened a dragon," Shinichi murmured to Sera. "This was meticulously planned. He led us here. That man wants us to know—"
"His purpose," Heiji finished, catching his line of thought.
"He wants," Shinichi breathes, "No. He needs—Sherry."
Miwako Satou never imagined she would be involved in something as important as this when she joined the police force. After receiving an anonymous email from Rei Furuya, an agent for the PSB, asking for assistance, she was again thrust into a world rife with depravity.
Her investigation uncovered hundreds of closed cases, dated back to the 1970s, about abandoned bodies, buried mass graves, political assassinations, and murders of entire families. All of them were unresolved, linked to the organization she had helped bring down a few months ago.
She could still recall the day vividly. The rain. The ominous pressure. The chaos. The cries of her colleagues getting shot at, and also—the Satan-like presence of a silver-haired beast and one-eyed monster. While she was still unclear about the scale, Miwako couldn't help but ponder as she reviewed the case file she had retrieved from Hiroshima's local police bureau. 17 years ago, a fire that razed the shopping district traumatized the locals to the point that they tried their hardest to bury the memories of the incident.
Miwako turns to the young woman with auburn hair studying the floor plan Takeuchi-san had given them when she returned. Although she knows little about the girl's past, she is aware of her struggles. From Kudou-kun's cryptic conversations emerges a sordid picture of what happened to the shrunken scientist, and Miwako recalls the photographs she had examined from the case file. Two burned, unrecognizable bodies—tied to a wooden pillar. Later, Miwako would learn that they were Ai-chan's parents.
The girl was, at present, ignoring the self-proclaimed housekeeper who was trying to make small talk.
"Would you like more tea?" She held the kettle, which she placed by the dining table before. From the surface, the woman seemed like your typical housekeeper. Old, friendly, and with a grandmotherly demeanor that would make most people relax.
But Miwako knew better. Even though the tattoo on the woman's arm was hidden, it wouldn't fool them. There was something strange about her, from the blank look in her black eyes to the wispy, almost incoherent answers she gave.
Miwako also disliked the way she talked about her employer. This Nakano-sama. It was almost as if she regarded him with reverence. As if she was referring to a god. It irked Miwako, and all she could think about was the animal-like codenames Kudou-kun had told her about. A secret organization run by the elusive demon.
"Are you sure?" Takeuchi asked Ai-chan. As if wielding a weapon, her friendly smile did not match the restless way her fingers were wrapped around the kettle's handle. "There is a lot left over, and I would prefer it if we don't waste any of it."
"No," Ai-chan replied stiffly. The girl's tone was sharp, aloof, and stern. Miwako hadn't seen Ai-chan like this before. Glancing at the girl known as Miyano Shiho, Miwako catches a glimpse of her other nature, of what she had been taught to be—Sherry.
"But I insist," Takeuchi was about to move closer when the girl stood up. The flickering blaze of a crackling fireplace was reflected in smoldering pools of emerald green.
"No," the scientist replied icily. The girl then proceeded toward the hallway.
"Where are you headed?" Miwako asked.
"Joining the others," Ai-chan quipped, "After all," she eyed Takeuchi-san like a snake sizing up her prey. "There's no point in interacting with a delusional fool."
Passing the old woman, the auburn-haired girl disappeared into the dark hallway. Miwako glanced back at the old woman who still carried that detestable smile. Her attention is drawn to the slight twitch in the woman's brows and the blank, emotionless stare. Takeuchi-san's smile did not reach her eyes.
Leaving the kettle on the table, the woman settled in a chair. A grandfather clock ticked loudly beside the fireplace, ominously in the silence that arose. Rhythmically, Takeuchi-san tapped her cane as if counting down minutes and seconds.
Then the clock chimes, echoing down the corridors and through the dining room. It was followed by the jarring tones of a telephone ringing from the hallway. The old woman's smile disappeared almost immediately, and she stared at the hallway like she was in a trance.
"Takeuchi-san?"
"Mind if I take that?" the woman asked with a sing-songy, dreamy tone.
"No," Miwako said as the housekeeper slowly hobbled toward the hallway. Sensing something amiss, Miwako followed after her. As she sneaks, she steals a glance at the woman while hiding behind a pillar.
Holding the receiver tightly, and speaking in hushed tones, a look of relief and resignation floods through Takeuchi-san's expression. Miwako's blood ran cold as a strange hum emanated from the woman's lips. The tune was haunting, reminiscent of both a lullaby and a chant. Putting down the receiver, Takeuchi-san lingers momentarily before hobbling toward what Miwako assumed was the kitchen.
Wasting no time, the inspector hurried after. Only to find the woman hunched over the stove. Her cane had been abandoned on the marble floors. The dim lighting made it difficult to see what Takuechi-san was doing.
Miwako felt like the protagonist from a horror show, stumbling over a danger she was unprepared for. Steeling herself, Miwako steps forward, about to confront the woman, when she gasps. A flash of silver lashed out on the spot she once was.
"What!" she glared at the woman holding a gasoline can. "What is the meaning of this!?"
Splashing the gasoline over herself and the kitchen, the old woman laughed. The arid, stinging odor of liquid gasoline immediately hit Miwako, and she gagged. "Takeuchi-san!"
"Nakano-sama," the housekeeper whispered feverishly. Hands raised, with a lighter in her grasp, she looked to the ceiling with a deranged smile, "Nakano-sama, have I done you proud!"
"Stop!" Miwako lunges forward but stops when the woman raises the lit lighter.
"What are you—"
The woman smirked.
"As with the fires 17 years ago. Same with everything that happened before. From the ashes, we will rise anew. In new vessels. Mors tua, vita mea."
Charging forward, Miwako tries to wrestle the lighter away from the deranged woman when she winced. A sharp pain assaulted her side, and the inspector fell back. There was a knife lodged in her left arm. "No!" she cried. It was too late. The woman had thrown the lit lighter on the ground.
A spark, and then the immediate heat of a rushing blaze. Licking up the walls, through the floors, and surrounding Takeuchi-san, Miwako dodges in time as another blaze rushes past where she stands. A fiery inferno consumes the house as screams of a disturbed woman echo through the senseless night.
Sera was the first to discover it. The creaking and moaning of the wood probably alerted her to the spot. Heiji approached them as they stared at the small, antique clock resting on top of the unassuming brass cabinet. Below the usual hour and minute hand and numbers that surrounded the circumference, there were four blank rectangular spaces. As Heiji spun the hour hand, there was a click. From under the clock, a slit slips out, revealing a wooden panel with buttons. Carved into each individual button was a single number ranging from 0 to 9.
"Well, I guess this is a password or some sort," Heiji remarked. Sera knocked again on the walls behind the clock. Hollow echoes confirmed their suspicions. Behind the walls, there was an empty space. It was a hidden room that was relatively easy to spot. The clock was the only thing wiped clean in the area, so Sera noticed it. It was as if someone wanted them to find it specifically.
"What do you think this means?" Sera pondered.
"A code," Heiji continued, "probably something important. Maybe we'll find the answers if we look around?"
"His name? A birthdate?" Sera mumbled, the two detectives studying the panel intently.
"Cain," a voice sounded from behind. Heiji and Sera jumped as Shinichi swung around, shining his phone torch on an auburn-haired scientist. With raised eyebrows, Shiho stood with her arms folded, squinting from the bright light.
"What are you doing here?" Shinichi snapped.
"Are you trying to give us a heart attack!" Heiji demanded, placing a hand over his chest. "You walk like a ghost!"
"You're trying to embody your nickname, aren't you?" Sera scowled.
"Nickname?" Shiho quipped.
"The phantom of beika," Sera sneered.
Shiho scoffed as Shinichi pulled her aside, away from Heiji and Sera.
"This is no time for a date, young man," Heiji called out.
"Shut up!" Shinichi snapped back before turning to the girl.
"I thought I told you to rest," he nags. Shiho was still cold to his touch. Her exhaustion was compounded by the day's events and the news from his parents. It was evident from her reaction, rigid and unwavering even after the hug Shinichi gave her earlier.
"I'm fine," she insisted, "Did you find the secret room?"
"We might have," he said before shaking his head. "No, don't change the subject. You need to rest. Let us handle this. There is no need to subject yourself to—"
With a hand over his lips, she stops him.
"I'm fine, Kudou," she replied icily, shaking his hand away and taking out her phone to reveal a diagram of a blueprint. "In Ichika Takeuchi's floor plan," she spat the housekeeper's name out in disdain, "there is an empty space just beyond here, so I assume you've found it."
Shinichi examined her carefully before sighing. He was powerless to do anything, so he reached out to her. She resisted his touch. As he suspected, she was pulling away from him again. They needed to get away from this place and maybe have a day's outing with the children. In the meantime—he turned back to Heiji and Sera, who were gazing at him with curious eyes as they deciphered the code.
"Cain," Heiji started with Shiho's suggestion. It was a logical deduction. There must be some relevance in the Hebrew term written on the note Vodka delivered to them.
"It has four letters in English. Sera and I tried entering the order in which the word is spelled, but nothing happened."
"Well...three, one, nine, fourteen...well, of course, it won't work now that there are five numbers," Shinichi muttered.
"But Shiho is right," Sera said, "Cain does have four letters, and it holds significance for Rum. It definitely pertains to this code."
"What if we subtract one from fourteen, so we get three, one, nine, and four," Heiji suggested.
"That makes no sense," Sera keyed in the numbers, despite disagreeing with the Osaka detective's suggestion. The code clicked, but the door remained closed. In frustration, Sera kicked the wall—hard. "Maybe I should ask Kaa-san for some advice," she mumbled, pulling out her phone.
Shinichi glanced at the clock and then at Shiho. "Any inputs?"
"Ara, I'm no code breaker," she replied, and he narrowed his gaze.
"Do I look like one?"
"Shinichi, the fallacy in that statement could be refuted a million times," she retorted as he rolled his eyes.
"Very helpful indeed…"
"Seize the lover's quarrel immediately," Heiji chimed in. Shinichi made a mental note to message the Osaka detective later with blackmail material when he noticed the numerals written around the clock face.
Roman…numerals…
"Cain," he whispered. Eyes widening at the realization, a smirk grew on his lips. Upon pressing the numbers into the pad, there was a click, the sound of gears shifting, followed by a low groan. The wall behind the clock cracked open. There was a stunned silence as Heiji and Sera gawked at him.
"Kudou, what magic did you pull!?" Heiji exclaimed. Sera pushes the door open to reveal the hidden room.
"Greek characters and Roman numerals," Shinichi motioned to the clock and pulled out the note Vodka had left at the door. The Hebrew letters bearing Cain's name stared back at them. "Since Roman numerals are inspired by the Greeks. I thought it fits."
"What—"
"It seems simplistic, but Greek is probably the only language that uses alphabets to denote numbers. In this case, Cain is depicted by Kappa, Alpha, Iota, and Upsilon, and each letter corresponds to a specific number. For instance, Kappa represents 20, Alpha represents 1, Iota represents 10, and Upsilon represents 400."
"Subtracting the zeros," Heiji muttered.
"Yes, and you'll get the numbers 2,1,1,4," Shinichi concluded.
In glee, the Osaka detective slapped him hard on the back. "As expected of Kudou, human encyclopedia indeed!"
Shinichi grimaced in pain at the force of his slap as they made their way into the isolated compartment.
An enveloping darkness descended upon them. Shinichi raised his phone torch while Heiji and Sera did the same. A shocking sight greeted them. Instead of a refurbished space, they found a charred skeletal structure of what remained of a red house that had burned down. Scattered about were pieces of soot-covered furniture that appeared to have burned. A half-burnt wooden pillar stood in the middle of the room. There was a study table opposite, bent to one side, sinking into the crumbling and ash-covered floors. The walls surrounding them were black, and the ceiling still had a grayish-ash color. The room—a small study was a crime scene purposefully preserved for seventeen years.
"Shiho," Shinichi whispered harshly, "go to Satou-san."
This…was the place.
Explicitly written and recorded in the case file. Two charred, badly damaged bodies were discovered tied to the skeletal remains of a house. Eventually, they were buried in an unmarked grave along with other unnamed, anonymous for years—until recently.
"Shiho-chan," Sera realized the implication of their findings.
The scientist's lips were pale, her green eyes brimming with something cold, numb—dead.
"Maybe we should call it a night. Take a look at it tomorrow," Heiji suggested.
"I. Am. Fine. Look at this," Shiho ignored their statements.
Heiji, Sera, and Shinichi exchanged worried glances.
By the burnt study table, Shiho picks up a postcard-sized photo. It was in pristine condition, definitely placed there recently. Taking it from her, Shinichi inhales sharply. There was a family portrait in the faded brown photo. It contained Hideaki Nakano and his wife. The woman in a kimono had her hands wrapped around...two boys. About nine years old. Holding hands, they smiled for the camera. The boys were sporting neat crew-cut hair, buck tooth teeth as they grinned, and lively, bright eyes. They were striking images of each other.
"Twins," Heiji whispered. As Shinichi turned the photo over, there were scribbled dates and names.
"Hideaki Nakano," Shinichi read, "Kazue Nakano, Kazuki and Aberu Nakano."
"Rum," Shiho finished.
"Brothers," Sera whispered.
"What does this mean?" Heiji asked.
Shinichi tucked the photo into his pocket. As his theory evolved, he spotted it. Lodged in the corner of a half-open drawer bent and crooked from the heat. Forcing it open, he frowned at the sight of a note also placed there recently. Reading it sent shivers coursing up his spine.
There—written in neat block letters were—
"Welcome, Sherry."
Shinichi grimaced when he noticed something else in the drawers. He draws back the moment he takes hold of it and brings it into the dim light.
It was tied neatly in a bundle.
Blonde…strawberry blonde.
He tried to shut the drawers, wanting to hide it from the scientist, but it was too late. Shiho had spotted it and grabbed the bundle before he could stop her.
"It's hair," Shiho inspected it mechanically. The color of the hair reflected off the torch he held.
"We need to get this tested," Her eyes were blank, withholding no emotions.
"Erm...Shiho-chan," Sera said carefully, "Maybe I should handle that."
"Why?" Shiho's fingers tightened around the bundle. Her lips formed a twisted smile.
"Shiho, please," Shinichi tries to grab it from her.
"Don't," she warns him before walking toward the burnt pillars instead.
He was about to follow her, but Heiji caught him and shook his head.
"Talk to her later," the Osaka detective advised. Shinichi rubbed his head roughly. Seeing her like this made it difficult to pretend everything was fine. However, Heiji was right. They needed to focus. This was probably the only chance they had.
"I'll check out the chairs on the other side," he returns his attention to the task. Heiji snapped a few photos of the room as Sera described the state of the crime scene with a voice recorder. Shinichi walked further, slowing every now and then to inspect hidden spaces. Minute by minute, the faded brown photo in the pocket grew heavier.
"What is that?" Sera exclaimed, shining her torch on it. On the charred wooden walls, a painting with burnt sides hung precariously. It was covered in a thick sheet of dirt and spider webs clinging to the side.
A grotesque old man with blood-drenched white hair and an unkempt beard was painted on a black background. He was a giant, monstrous in nature, holding a half-eaten body in his grasp. Blood dripping from his mouth, blank, terrified eyes staring at the viewer as he ate the body of—
"Franciso de Goya," Shiho identified the artist immediately.
"Goya?" Heiji asked.
"Saturn devouring his son," Shinichi explained, recognizing the painting.
"I've heard of it," Sera gasped, "About the titan Cronus from Greek myths devouring his children."
"Cannibalism?" Heiji inquired.
Reaching out, Shinichi flipped over the large painting. It wobbled from rusted hinges, falling to the ground. Exposing rotten, dilapidated canvas. Behind it was the spidery writing of—
"Kudou," Heiji was alarmed by the findings. A haunting silence descends over the group.
No. It cannot be.
Shinichi was about to pick the painting up when—
"Is it just me," Sera remarks as they, too, caught a whiff of the pungent odor. "But don't you smell..."
"Smoke!" Heiji exclaimed. In a panic, they scrambled. Shinichi grabbed Shiho as they fled the hidden room. The unmistakable stench of burning wood and gray smoke assaulted them. Shinichi coughing, eyes stinging from the arid fumes.
"What is going on!" Sera shouted.
A scream sounded a warning. Heiji shoved him away as the wooden ground beneath him collapsed. Within the newly opened hole, a blaze raged below. Billowing rancid smoke was rising quickly, filling the corridors with toxic fumes.
"Run!" Satou-san warned. She was beckoning them toward the stairwell at the end of the corridor. They rush toward her, and Shinichi spotted the inspector's bleeding arm. "What happened!?" he exclaimed.
"I'll explain later," she shouted, "Run!"
They didn't need to be told twice. They stumbled down the crumbling steps. Racing through the burning library and past the kitchen. Shinichi was shocked to see Takeuchi-san rolling on the marble floor in agony. The woman was engulfed in the blaze. The sight of skin burning from flesh was surreal. They are snapped out of the horrific sight by Satou-san's shrill voice.
They ran through the corridors. Heiji shoved them forward. The heat was unbearable, the odor burning his nostrils and throat. A feverish nightmare.
The entrance burst open as Satou-san slammed against the door. Stumbling out, they staggered toward the pavements.
"Ah!" Screamed a passerby as shockwaves brushed past. Broken shards of glass shatter from gothic windows. They were propelled toward the streets, hitting the concrete pavements like hailstones. Shinichi shielded Shiho from the blast—pushing her down, protecting her with his body.
They crashed painfully onto the ground and were surrounded by screams and shouts from passers-by and neighbors who had gathered outside the burning building.
"I need help now!" Satou-san was shouting on her phone. "Get the fire department!"
The inspector stumbled back. Sera caught her.
"Satou-san, what happened?" Shinichi asked again.
Panting badly, the woman tried to gather herself. "Takeuchi-san," the woman said between frantic breaths, "she attacked me with a kitchen knife. I fought her off, and then she poured gasoline over herself and—"
The woman shivered. "It spread too fast. I couldn't stop it. She was—"
"Part of his plan," Heiji whispered, gazing slowly at the burning mansion.
It was confirmed. Takeuchi-san was a pawn—infatuated with her master, willing to do anything. A deranged relationship. She had sacrificed herself. But for what cause?
A series of screams erupted from the crowd as another explosion occurred. They could feel the heat sweltering in the cool autumn air.
Like a fire from—17 years ago.
Shinichi faced her. The scientist is still holding onto the bundle of hair.
"Shiho," Tentatively, he reached for her, clutching her shoulder.
The girl glared at the building—burning bright, hot, clawing, as ash and smoke rose from a collapsing building. An odious smirk emerges on her lips, sinister, reminiscent of the first time they met.
Warmth lost, Shiho stood rigid, eyes carrying with them—a dark omen.
"I'll kill him."
She found herself back here again. Months had passed since the operation by the abandoned shipyard. Nightmares that plague a childhood lost in the burning mansion refuse to fade. Jodie smirks as she places a hand against the glass. It's been 20 years.
"A secret makes a woman—woman."
Held within the ward was a woman she remembered from that fateful night. Taking the life she once knew and destroying it. Her father's dead body slumped against a desk as the woman placed a finger to her lips.
"Little girl," she whispered, her voice still sending terror to this day, "How about we play a little game?"
"A game, huh?" Jodie seethes, closing her eyes, recalling the dream she had. Of a fluttering blue butterfly, flying free in changing tides, landscapes changing to that of barren wasteland.
"You won't die," Jodie whispered to a woman in a coma, kept alive by the repetitive beeping of life-support machines. She was treated quickly for the bullet wounds she received that day. Unfortunately, she had lost too much, and the prognosis was not good. It was her fate to die, but Jodie refused. Transfusing blood to a woman she was determined to get answers from.
"Not yet," Jodie smirked, "Sharon."
Episodes used:
Episode 345
Phew, this was a hard chapter to write. However, we're getting there, folks. :D:D:D I hope I can pull the strings together succinctly. I will provide a timeline after 3 more chapters when the pieces are in place :D. Again, thank you for all the reviews and feedback. Wishing you guys a good week ahead.
P.S. Mors tua, vita mea is Latin :D.
And Takeuchi-san was a pain to type.