As always, I calmed my breathing outside the shop before opening the antique door. As the door chime rang out, I spotted two men sitting at the counter.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Aoi,” said the first one, Kiyotaka Yagashira, also known as Holmes. He was the one who had offered me this job.
“Good morning, Aoi.” The second one was Holmes’s father, Takeshi Yagashira. He had a slim build and wore glasses and a vest. His gentle smile was similar to Holmes’s.
“I’ll do my best today,” I said with a bow.
It’d been a while since I started working here, and I’d finally gotten the hang of it. Back when Holmes offered me the job, I’d assumed he was a young shopkeeper, but it turned out that the real owner of the shop was his grandfather. Apparently that grandfather of his is known as a legendary appraiser, and being a nationally certified expert, he travels all over the country and even around the world performing his services. While the real owner is away, Holmes and his father take turns managing the shop in addition to working hard in their main professions.
Holmes’s father’s main profession is—I glanced at the counter in front of him. His right hand held a fountain pen, which he was using to write prose on Japanese grid-style writing paper. That’s right: his father is an author. He writes things like historical novels and columns, and he’s always writing while tending to the store.
Oh, and by the way, Holmes’s main profession is being a student, as you’d expect.
Perhaps having noticed I was looking at him, the father looked up from his work and smiled warmly at me, saying, “Your presence brightens up the shop, since we didn’t have any girls around before.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I said shyly, hastily putting on my apron.
According to what the regular customers have told me, there are no women in the Yagashira family. The owner was a free spirit and he had divorced his wife long ago, while the father’s wife—in other words, Holmes’s mother—passed away due to illness when Holmes was two years old. So, the Yagashira family only consists of men. Since the three of them have the same surname, the grandfather is called “Owner,” the father is called “Manager,” and Holmes is called either his nickname or “Kiyotaka.”
It’s rare to see father and son together, though. Usually only one of them was at the shop.
“Oh, I’ll be heading out soon. My father will be in charge today,” said Holmes, looking my way with a smile. I choked on my breath in shock.
“C-Can you please stop reading my mind already?”
“Ah, my apologies. You seemed curious because you were looking back and forth between us.”
Holmes possesses an extraordinarily keen eye. He doesn’t actually read people’s minds, but he can infer things that are unspoken from their words, actions, and behavior.
“Reading minds? You’re ever the exaggerator, Aoi,” he continued with an amused chuckle.
My face stiffened. His constant, unexpected guesses about my thoughts sure seemed like mind reading to me. I definitely wasn’t exaggerating. The way he responds to my inner thoughts is seriously bad for my heart.
“Oh right. Aoi. Come to the second floor with me,” said Holmes, getting up from his seat.
“Ah, okay,” I replied, slightly startled.
When Holmes calls me to the second floor, it’s always to show me something. I climbed the stairs feeling somewhat anxious. When we reached the top, he removed the keyring at his waist and unlocked the door there with a click, revealing a plain room with a small window and a ventilation fan. Products and boxes were stacked on the shelves. As its appearance would suggest, this room was called the “storeroom.”
Holmes cut straight through the storeroom and stopped in front of a door on the opposite wall. The first thing that caught my eye was the padlock. There was nothing else special about the door, but it was locked. On the wall next to the door was a cover pretending to be a power outlet, and opening that cover revealed a number pad. It was a digital lock with a numerical password.
Holmes deftly entered the password and then unlocked the padlock. At a glance, it was simply a small room at the back of the storeroom, but that wasn’t all. It had a high level of security.
The door finally opened. Holmes turned on the light, revealing a small, clean, windowless room that was kept cool with an air conditioner. In the middle was a table, and something lay on top, completely covered by a sheet.
“My grandfather brought this home with him last night,” Holmes said, swiftly putting on his white gloves and removing the sheet. Underneath was a box around fifty centimeters tall, wrapped in cloth. Holmes skillfully unwrapped the cloth, revealing a simple wooden box. He opened the lid. Inside was a vase, around forty centimeters tall. The vase was painted with broad, smooth curves, and it had a wide body that gradually narrowed towards the bottom. The cobalt blue pattern on its white body was breathtakingly elaborate.
“Wow!”
Was the pattern a grapevine? It was drawn beautifully and cleanly, all the way to the tips of the leaves.
“It’s...amazing.” Curse my limited vocabulary. But that was all I could say.
“It’s Chinese porcelain known as ‘blue and white pottery.’ This one hails from the Yuan dynasty.”
“How is porcelain different from earthenware?”
“They’re similar, and there isn’t a strict boundary between them, but when unglazed, porcelain is white and translucent, and it makes a metallic sound when you tap it.”
“I see. Is this genuine?”
“Yes, a Kyoto department store will be having an exhibition soon, and this piece is being borrowed from overseas. They asked my grandfather to appraise it beforehand.”
“So the department store requested for the owner to appraise it?”
“Yes, even though they’re borrowing pieces from other countries, it’d still affect their reputation if they were to display a counterfeit.”
Since the owner was a nationally certified appraiser, he’d sometimes receive requests like this and bring rare antiques here, the likes of which a commoner like me would normally never be able to see up close. And whenever such an amazing piece was here, Holmes would always show it to me.
“This cobalt was brought over from the Islamic world. It’s a beautiful, deep indigo, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it really is lovely.”
“The shape is very uniform and feels balanced. It has a beautiful form, developed to perfection all the way to the brim. And most of all, this pattern. Isn’t it stunning?” Holmes gazed fondly at the vase, describing it passionately as if it were his own pride and joy. I was charmed by his genuine love for antiques, but I could also understand where his passion came from. Even an amateur could tell that this vase was amazing. But, as a lowly commoner, what I wanted to know was...
“Around how much is this worth?”
“Let’s see... In the past, I saw in the news that a piece of Yuan blue and white pottery went for 3.2 billion at an overseas auction.”
“Th-Three billion? For this?”
“Not for this specific piece, but it means that there’s someone out there who would value it that highly,” Holmes answered happily.
“I-I see.”
This world was so foreign to me that I couldn’t keep up. Some people have their hearts stolen by money or jewels, but others are charmed by antiques. As an antique collector, my grandpa must’ve been one of them.
“Holmes, if you were rich, would you want this vase badly enough to pay a large sum for it?”
“No.”
I looked up in surprise at his swift response.
“Oh, really? But you love antiques, right?”
“Yes, I do. However, I don’t have the desire to own them. I’m happy being able to see such wonderful pieces, and I want to see as many as I can during my life. To that end, I’m willing to go anywhere in the world. But I don’t want to own them. I’m satisfied as long as I can look at them like this and store them in my heart and memory,” Holmes replied, placing his hand to his chest with a gentle smile on his face.
“I...see.” I nodded hesitantly. His answer was unexpected, yet appropriate.
“In my case, it’s not just pottery and scrolls that appeal to me. I also love temples, shrines, and foreign castles and towers. Those are things I’ll never be able to own, let alone decorate my house with, right?”
Holmes grinned mischievously. I smiled too, saying, “You’re right.”
“The staff will be coming to retrieve this soon, so I’m glad I was able to show it to you first.”
Holmes put the lid back on the box and wrapped it securely in the cloth. We left the room together, and I watched him absentmindedly as he locked up.
I knew he was being careful, but was it really okay to put something worth 3.2 billion here? Perhaps it wasn’t my place to judge, but I couldn’t help but worry.
“Don’t worry. Our security is tighter than you think,” Holmes said, key in hand.
I choked on my breath again. “I-It’s seriously bad for my heart when you read my mind.”
Holmes laughed cheerfully at my stiff expression.