“It’s finally autumn, huh?” murmured Katsuya Komatsu.
Why “finally”? Because this was the time of year when Kyoto saw a surge in tourist activity—not that it wasn’t already crowded, of course. Komatsu’s detective agency was located in Gion, the heart of the city, so the rise and fall in tourist numbers was easily observed. However, it wasn’t something to be happy about.
Unlike restaurants, a detective agency didn’t profit from greater foot traffic outside its doors. Frankly, it was disruptive to business, since many people would barge in to ask for directions and leave without so much as a thank-you. It was his programming side job that suffered the most from that—whenever he was in the zone, a sudden interruption would break his concentration.
In fact, just a few minutes ago, two such tourists had come in.
“How do we get to the imperial palace?” the young women asked.
It was one of those moments that made him think, Sure is autumn, huh?
“Uh, by that, you mean Marutamachi, right?” Komatsu opened the maps app on his phone and scratched his head.
The imperial palace they spoke of was situated within Kyoto Gyoen National Garden. Komatsu wasn’t sure how to explain how to get there from his Kiyamachi-Shijo office.
“If you’re taking the bus, I recommend boarding the 4, 17, or 205 from the Shijo-Kawaramachi stop and getting off at the Kyoto Prefectural University of Medicine. By train, you can go to Gion-Shijo Station and take the Demachiyanagi-bound Keihan Line to Jingu-Marutamachi Station. It’s only a short walk from there,” someone graciously answered in his stead.
Komatsu turned around and saw a handsome, black-haired, fair-skinned young man—Kiyotaka Yagashira. The appraiser looked even more dashing than usual, perhaps because of his well-tailored suit.
“Thank you!” the women squealed, their voices an octave higher than when they’d addressed Komatsu. They left the office, saying things like “That guy was so cool.”
Komatsu had been suffering from the autumn blues until then, but for some reason, it now felt like spring.
“Guess what, Komatsu? Aoi and I are finally officially engaged.”
Flowers were blooming around Kiyotaka—figuratively, of course. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and his expression radiated happiness.
Komatsu sighed.
“Officially? Weren’t you already engaged?” Ensho asked in a skeptical tone. The artist had once left this agency and found success as a painter, but he’d since returned and was now residing on the second floor again, though it would only be until he found a new place to live.
Komatsu, Kiyotaka, and Ensho were gathered in the office—a familiar sight. Ensho was sitting at his old desk, Kiyotaka was lounging on the guest sofa, and Komatsu was watching them from his own desk. It was as if they’d gone back to the days before Kiyotaka and Ensho had left. The only difference was that Ensho now had hair, styled in an undercut with center-parted bangs.
Why does Ensho having hair make this place feel like a modeling agency? Komatsu wondered.
“I can’t go into detail, but I can tell you that our engagement is now set in stone,” Kiyotaka replied, placing a hand on his chest.
Ensho clicked his tongue. “What’s with this guy? He’s pissing me off.”
Komatsu agreed.
“If you can’t say anything, you shouldn’t have brought it up to begin with,” said Ensho.
“Allow me to tell you the full story, then.”
“No thanks. Don’t wanna hear it.”
“Why are you so irritable? Are you lacking calcium?”
“The hell? I’m like this ’cause of you.”
“Is that so? In that case, let me make it up to you. Open your mouth, and I’ll feed you some dried fish.” Kiyotaka took a small pack of dried fish from the snack bowl on the table and tore it open.
“Are you seriously gonna put fish in my mouth?!”
It really feels just like before, Komatsu thought with a strained look on his face. “Anyway, kiddo, you just got off work, right?”
He’d heard that Kiyotaka had started working at a tax accounting firm at the beginning of the month. It wasn’t a full-time position but rather a temporary apprenticeship for him to gain practical experience. Judging by his suit and the fact that it was 6 p.m., it was fair to assume he’d come straight from work.
“Yes, I’m actually meeting someone here,” said Kiyotaka.
Ensho shrugged. “What, going on a date with Aoi?”
“She is indeed coming, but it’s not just her.”
“Wait, are you gonna introduce me to a client?” Komatsu asked.
“Well...”
“I ain’t interested in your rom-com crap, so I’m gonna take a nap upstairs,” Ensho said, getting up and taking the stairs to the second floor. He seemed to be avoiding Aoi.
Ensho had made a brilliant debut as an artist at a museum in Hong Kong, and he’d been drowning in commission requests, solo exhibition talks, and offers to lecture or speak at events ever since. However, he’d put all of them on hold while deciding on his next steps.
Well, there’s no need to rush.
Ensho’s painting, Present City, had sold for 160 million yen. Even after everyone involved in the sale took their cut, he would’ve ended up with a sizable sum—though Komatsu had heard that after consulting with Kiyotaka, Ensho had decided to have the payments spread out over several years to reduce the tax burden, among other reasons.
At any rate, perhaps Ensho now had what he’d once wished for. But there was one thing he hadn’t obtained: Aoi. Komatsu could imagine this being a source of deep frustration for him.
As the detective began to feel sorry for the artist, the intercom rang.
“Oh, that must be the little miss.”
With a click of his mouse, he brought up the camera feed on his computer screen. Aoi was there with her usual smile, and a long-haired woman was standing next to her.
“Hey there, little miss. And, whoa, Yilin’s here too.”
On the screen, Yilin bowed in response.
“I’m working part-time at Kura now,” said Yilin.
She and Aoi sat next to each other on one of the sofas, while Komatsu and Kiyotaka sat across from them. By the time coffee was served, Yilin had explained that she would be attending graduate school in Kyoto next month and that she had begun working at Kura to learn more about Kyoto and antiques.
Komatsu hummed and watched as she subtly scanned the office, glanced at Ensho’s desk, and lowered her gaze. Knowing she had feelings for the guy, Komatsu wondered if she was disappointed that he wasn’t there. But looking at her again, he noticed she had a relieved expression on her face.
Oh, I get it. Seeing him would’ve been painful since Aoi is here too.
“So you came all this way just to say hi?” Komatsu asked.
Yilin had brought a box of sweets, which now sat on the table between them. Komatsu wasn’t an expert on such things, but it was the kind of department store sweets that his wife and daughter loved.
“Yes, and also for a consultation,” replied Yilin.
“About what?”
“She’s on a mission for her father,” Kiyotaka explained. He relayed the request itself—“I want you to find a way to get close to Takamiya and look into something in his collection for me”—as well as the fact that the item in question was a jewel.
“You mean that Takamiya?” The rich collector who owns a mansion in Okazaki and bought Ensho’s painting for a fortune?
“Yes, that Takamiya. Mr. Jing’s request caught my attention.”
“How come?” Komatsu tilted his head.
“It’s possible that Takamiya recently acquired a rare, valuable gemstone that Mr. Jing had his eye on.”
“Oh, I guess so, yeah.”
“I researched jewels listed in recent auctions but didn’t find anything noteworthy,” said Yilin.
“Yes, I checked too, but couldn’t find anything public,” Kiyotaka added, flashing Komatsu a meaningful look.
If there’s nothing public, that means... “Then it might’ve been at a secret auction?” Komatsu asked.
“Exactly. We’d like you to look into it, Komatsu.”
The wealthy held exclusive auctions among themselves, sometimes on hidden websites that the general population couldn’t access.
“I see.” Komatsu crossed his arms.
Yilin promptly bowed. “I will pay the investigation fee, of course. Please lend me your assistance.”
“Well, you don’t need to pay me for something as simple as this. I can’t imagine that honest old man using underground sites, though.” Komatsu scratched his head.
Kiyotaka, Yilin, and Aoi all shook their heads.
“His good-natured personality has nothing to do with this,” said Kiyotaka. “Those obsessed with art will sometimes go to extreme lengths for it.”
“I’d say he’s quite capable of it,” Yilin added.
“Me too,” Aoi agreed.
“Oh...okay,” Komatsu said, overwhelmed by the three-pronged attack.
He got up, walked over to his desk, and sat down in front of his computer. A few clicks and some typing later, he was on a hidden website that ordinary people couldn’t access easily. Some of the pages alluded to drug dealing, gun smuggling, and even human trafficking, but he ignored the highly questionable content, only checking the art and jewelry auctions.
“Hmm,” he said after going through all of the recent info. “Nothing really stands out. Closest I saw was some guy posting stuff like ‘I want that blue diamond owned by the Japanese woman Atsuko Tadokoro,’ but that’s not auction-related.”
Atsuko Tadokoro was a former client of Komatsu’s. Since she owned a large blue diamond, she was prone to being targeted.
“Diamonds sure are scary,” he murmured.