Chapter 1

Three high school girls were chatting excitedly on the train. “That’s when Remi broke the news.” “For real? That’s crazy.” “Seriously, right? I can’t believe it.” Two of them were sitting with their legs stretched out in front of them. The first had a bob, and the second wore her brown hair cut blunt at the ends. The last girl had long black hair and was standing between the others. “Do you have your club after school?” Bob Hair asked Blunt Cut. “Nah, I’m free today. Wanna go somewhere?” “I want pancakes,” Black Hair cut in. “Pancakes sound good.” “I’m broke. Let’s go to McDonald’s,” Bob Hair said. “Same. Plus, there’s Wi-Fi,” Blunt Cut said. “’Kay,” said Bob Hair. “I want pancakes. Pancakes!” Black Hair protested. It was an ordinary scene that could take place anywhere. Most likely, none of the other riders were paying any attention to them, except for Emi Shimamoto. Emi was listening to the girls’ conversation, a dark mood falling over her like a shadow. Ah, I’ve been in her shoes so often, she thought. The entire time, Bob Hair and Blunt Cut had been talking by themselves, ignoring Black Hair completely. Emi didn’t know anything about their relationship, but she couldn’t help but see herself in Black Hair. Her mom had given her the name Emi, hoping that she would be a child with a beautiful smile, and yet she had never once smiled genuinely in her life. Looking back, her childhood had been fine. Her silent father, cheerful mother, kind brother—several years her elder—and doting grandparents had been her entire world. But that all changed in elementary school. Everything she did required her to communicate with others. Emi was not good at speaking or responding. Her classmates and “teachers,” the grown-ups who weren’t her parents, inspired nothing less than dread in her. She used to huddle in the corner of the classroom alone. Maybe she could have been considered “quirky” in the city, but that wasn’t the case in the countryside, where she had grown up. A gloomy girl like her who never spoke to anyone was a natural target for bullying. Her classmates would ignore her, scribble in her textbooks, and hide her belongings. At their nastiest, they used to get together and pelt her with balls. The grown-ups wouldn’t defend an unappealing girl like her, either. When Emi hadn’t been able to bear the bullying any longer, she turned to a teacher for help, only for them to tell her “It’s all in your head” and “They’re only joking around.” Worse still, her plea for help resulted in a forum being held, during which she was openly bashed. She stopped believing adults. In the end, the bullying continued throughout middle school. In high school, however, the bullying stopped, and she was even taken in by a group of social butterflies. A graduate of her school named Yamaike took a liking to her—or more specifically, to her voluptuous figure. He was a well-known “bad boy” in her town, and once he publicly declared his interest in her, the bullying ceased. She was then approached by a clique of girls, who figured they would have more opportunity to talk with Yamaike if she joined the group. Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that Emi was saved. Yamaike would look after her. Maybe he had taken an interest in her only for her body, but he never tried to force her to go out with him or have sex. Whenever he ran into her, he would talk to her a little. The two, three words she exchanged with him were all that kept her going. Although she hung around the popular kids, it would be hard to say she got along with them. The other girls were interested in fashion, romance, and trends. By comparison, Emi was—in a word—bland. Her only interest was shogi; her brother had left his set behind when he had moved to Tokyo. She tried her best despite knowing she had nothing in common with the others. Against her brother’s protest, she dyed her hair brown. She perused magazines for trendy jewelry and accessories and made them herself. All her efforts were futile. The others looked at her hair with disgust and said, “Can you not copy us?” They sneered at her beadwork, declared that it reeked of poverty, and threw out her handmade accessories. Nonetheless, Emi didn’t protest. She continued to follow the girls around with an ingratiating smile. In the group, Emi might as well have been air. Unlike in elementary school, she was no longer blatantly ignored or harassed. The others would talk to her. She moved with them between classrooms and during in-school activities. However, they would never listen to her opinions, and while she was one of the group in school, they would never hang out with her outside it. Her class went to Tokyo for their field trip. When they’d had some free time, Emi’s friend group came up with an excuse to get rid of her. She would never forget the five hours she spent at the cafe in Nagatacho, listlessly scrolling on her phone. The memory surfaced occasionally to stab at her heart. Emi went to college in Tokyo, partially because of her parents’ advice. Her mom was originally from Suginami Ward and told her, “Tokyo could be just the place for an introvert like you.” Emi had never gone to her mom for help about the bullying or her interpersonal relationships, but it seemed her mom had noticed her struggling anyway. Fortunately, Emi had decent grades. She qualified for the regional scholarships offered for academic achievement and was able to enroll in a private college of some repute. And her mom had been right. In Tokyo, there was no shortage of people with poor communication skills, just like her. She didn’t have to get to know her neighbors—no one else bothered—and while she had a little trouble with group projects, she was managing to survive college one way or another. She worked part-time at a busy restaurant located near a major publishing company, where communication ability came second to how fast one could serve and clear plates and prepare food. Thank goodness she’d moved to the city. Emi didn’t mind studying or homework, either. Her grades were good, and her job brought her a sense of purpose. She felt fulfilled, more so than she ever had before. She might not have had friends, but she had her brother, who had moved to Tokyo before her. He was already working, so he had money, and he would show Emi around the city. She didn’t feel lonely at all. However, her idyllic existence came to an end the summer of her junior year. That was when job hunting started. She had assumed that everything would work out as long as she had a strong academic history and qualifications. By the time she realized her naïveté, it was too late. She figured it out during her internship. Her classmates who had worse grades, partied every day, and only attended the bare minimum of their classes were considered much more of an “asset” than she was. They worked with enthusiasm and were well liked by their coworkers. On the last day of her internship, one of the full-time employees told her something she would never forget: “If you’re not interested, you don’t have to force yourself to work here. There are plenty of other companies.” Her timidity had been chalked up to lack of motivation. Emi asked her brother for advice and started practicing for interviews. She read a mountain of psychology books and consulted with a career counselor. Though she threw herself into interviewing, her true disposition always managed to show itself despite her attempts to change it. She left a gloomy impression. If the interviewer asked even a single question outside the usual script, she would fall apart. It didn’t matter how many companies she applied to. Not one hired her. Thus passed her senior year, and before she knew it, she had already graduated. Job hunting when you were no longer a fresh graduate was unbelievably difficult under the best of circumstances, but when you added Emi’s personality to the equation… Rocked by the motion of the train, Emi was feeling somber as usual today. How many companies had she applied to? She’d stopped counting after fifty. Her melancholy was only heightened by the presence of the high school girl with the long black hair who reminded her of herself. Bob Hair and Blunt Cut were scrolling on their phones silently, but Black Hair was still trying to strike up a conversation with them. Emi empathized with that desperate desire to be seen. It made her ache with understanding. “Let’s go,” Bob Hair said. “Okay,” Blunt Cut said. “We’re going to get pancakes, right?” Black Hair said. “Come on, let’s talk.” The two who’d been sitting stood up. At that moment, a key chain–like trinket tumbled out of Bob Hair’s bag and rolled to a stop at Emi’s feet. It looked like the tail of a black rabbit. Emi tapped Bob Hair’s shoulder and held out the key chain. “You dropped this.” The girl batted away her hand. “What? Are you crazy?” she spat. Even though Emi had once been that age, too, the savagery of teenage girls still terrified her. Was it because of their baseless assurance that they were right—a trait Emi lacked—that they were able to say such cruel things? “But you dropped this,” Emi said again, trying to keep calm. Blunt Cut flashed an unsettled look at Emi, tugged forcefully at Bob Hair’s hand, and pulled her off the train. Were all high school girls such mannerless creatures? Had they thought Emi was suspicious? Her appearance was drab, but she shouldn’t have looked out of place; she was wearing a suit for her interview and a light layer of makeup. Blunt Cut said sharply to Bob Cut, “You shouldn’t get involved with her kind!” The two of them glanced back at Emi as they scurried out of sight. Who would hire a woman whom high school girls were creeped out by? Today’s interview is going to be another dud, Emi thought with a self-deprecating smile. She gripped the key chain the girl had dropped. Contrary to its fluffy appearance, it was rough to the touch. It was like it was made of hair— “Eat pancakes with me,” the black-haired girl said next to her ear. “Let’s get pancakes together.” Her mouth was stretched in an ear-to-ear grin. She stared fixedly at Emi and repeated, “Eat pancakes with me, pancakes, I’ll follow you, forever and ever together together I’ll follow you follow you follow you follow you—” Emi could not tell the living from the dead. She was definitely going to be late to her interview. Despite that, when Emi called ahead to convey this, the receptionist who oversaw the interviewees told her they would continue with the interview anyway. The black-haired girl was stalking Emi like she had promised. Emi tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed the girl, but she knew it was pointless. That hair ball—she wished she could forget how it had felt—had been a trap. For as long as she could remember, Emi had been unable to tell the difference between people who were living and people who weren’t. If the dead looked the way spirits were said to—grotesque, transparent—if there were any hints that made them distinct from the living, then maybe she would be able to identify them. Some were obviously abnormal, but most looked no different from any other human, no different from Emi herself. Emi was terrified of both speaking to and being spoken to by strangers. Her fear couldn’t be blamed entirely on her sensitivity to the supernatural, but it no doubt played a part in why she had been bullied in elementary and middle school. Why she had spent her high school years like she was air. Why she was failing to find a job. If there was one difference between the living and the unliving, it was that the latter was desperate for conversation. They would harangue with chatter anybody who paid them a sliver of attention. The target of the monologue would find their body growing heavier and heavier. As they spoke, the unliving slowly morphed into the kind of aberrations depicted in horror stories. Her parents, grandparents, and brother never mocked Emi for her questions as a child and would take them in stride. They had brought her everywhere, from shrines and temples to exorcists, in search of answers. However, she quickly realized it was futile. Not a single one of them could see the dead. Once, a famous psychic with a mind-boggling fee came to see her. Emi nearly burst out laughing. The psychic had gone on and on about how Emi was tainted by the grudge of a woman slandered and murdered by one of her family’s ancestors, that the spirit was clutching onto her back, and so on, all while facing the wrong direction. Right behind the psychic had stood a middle-aged man with an inflated head, grousing endlessly about his boss. None of the others had seen anything, either. If they couldn’t see the problem, then they surely weren’t going to fix it. So no matter how irritating the spirit was, no matter if it had holes for eyes or a mouth split to their ears or exposed brains or a bifurcated head, all Emi could do was swallow her fear and wait for time to pass. It varied case by case, but the majority of the time, the spirits would vanish after a week at most. Luckily—if you could call it that—the worst they did to her was make her tired. From experience, Emi guessed that the girl with the long black hair who was raving on about pancakes was the persistent type. First, the girl harassed people who couldn’t even see her, which made it clear that she was even more starved for human interaction than usual. Also, she was particularly disfigured. She must have been ignored for months, years, or possibly even decades. The girl had needed to resort to laying a trap for Emi to at last stumble across her path. Emi’s body felt abnormally heavy. She could barely stand. She had never felt this way. But being late for an interview was out of the question. She managed to drag herself forward on her hands and knees. In the end, she wound up at the company’s doorstep ten minutes later than her scheduled time slot, despite her plans to arrive half an hour early. The only reason she wasn’t in complete despair was because she had given up on passing the interview from the start. She looked up at the building, overwhelmed by its size. I knew it. Someone who’s failed over fifty interviews like me could never make it here, she thought with a sigh. Besides, Emi wouldn’t have been able to focus anyway, not with Pancake Girl around. She loomed in front of Emi, her mouth gaping wide. “Can we eat pancakes here? Pancakes. Gimme pancakes, please. Yummy, yummy, in my tummy. Gimme, gimme. Chewy, chewy. Just a bite. Please. Listen to me. Listen. Listen listen listen listen li—” The moment Emi stepped into the building, the girl disappeared, as though she had been vaporized. “Huh—?” Emi gasped. Flustered, she stepped back outside. However, Pancake Girl was nowhere to be found. She checked above her, too, but couldn’t see her at all. Maybe Pancake Girl was hiding in the building to lull Emi into a false sense of complacency so she could scare her when she went back inside. Emi took a deep breath before passing through the automatic doors again. “Are you Emi Shimamoto?” At the front desk was a stylish beauty who seemed extremely competent. She told Emi to enter in a cold voice. Emi was too embarrassed to raise her head. Not only was she late, but her suspicious behavior at the entrance must have driven the receptionist past anger and straight to exasperation. If she’s gone, she’s gone. Good riddance, Emi thought, pushing the Pancake Girl’s disappearance to the back of her mind. She trailed after the receptionist as directed. When she got in the elevator, she was shocked and intimidated all over again. The building was forty stories from floor to roof. She had really stepped into a different world. The elevator stopped on the thirty-eighth floor. From there, she proceeded alone to the interview room. As she made her way down the long corridor, she realized her nervousness had completely dissipated. A minute ago, she had been on edge over her tardiness—a catastrophic failure—and the enormity of the office. She had felt cold from head to toe, but now she was warm enough that she had broken into a light sweat. This floor smelled pleasant. Maybe that was why she was at ease. She had once tried a free treatment at a beauty salon, and the soothing scent in the hall reminded her of the incense the salon had used (at the same time, it also reminded her of the expensive multipack salon passes she had been forced to buy, which killed her good mood). The mark of large enterprises is their attention to detail, Emi thought appreciatively, taking another deep breath. She felt awake and alert. She hadn’t had any hope from the start, but maybe the interview would go well for once. Hope in her heart, she knocked on the door to the interview room. “Come in,” a voice called from inside. “Excuse me,” Emi said. There were three interviewers, all men: a young man slightly older than Emi, a clean-cut man in the prime of his life, and a portly elderly man. They all had affable smiles on their faces. “Please take a seat,” the young man said. Emi bowed and apologized for being late, but the interviewers brushed it off with smiles. Tardiness was normally unacceptable. According to the interview manual, the convention when an interviewee was running late was to inform the company and then give up on it. Her interview was likely just a formality, but they had still rearranged the schedule and were letting her proceed. That alone was more than enough. Why did they have to be so kind, too? She felt like she was going to cry. As she took her seat, she resolved to make it to the end of the interview without embarrassing herself. The interviewers asked Emi a series of standard questions. All of her answers were by the book and cliché, but the interviewers listened to her intently, their eyes never leaving her face. She forgot all about the interviews she had failed. She was able to relax and answer everything properly. The interviewers watched her with kind eyes like she was their child. It was possible, objectively speaking, that she had a shot. At the end, the youngest of three asked, “Lastly, do you have any questions for us?” Emi opened her mouth to respond. At that moment, she was assailed by an overwhelming pressure. “Ack… Guh…,” she groaned. Her lungs were being squeezed. It was hard to breathe. “What’s wrong?” the man asked. However, Emi couldn’t reply. Breathing hurt. It took everything she had just to open her eyes. Just barely managing to squint, she glimpsed the door beyond the interviewers ease open. That was where the pressure crushing her lungs was coming from. “Sir,” someone said. All the interviewers stood up and greeted the visitor, who was apparently the president of the company. A pair of polished leather shoes—most likely the president’s—stepped into the edge of Emi’s field of vision. From his perspective, he must have dropped by on a whim only to find a strange woman hyperventilating. Emi tried desperately to correct her posture, but breathing was excruciating and standing was impossible. The leather shoes drew closer. Emi grew more and more panicked. Her behavior was beyond the pale. But what she thought didn’t matter. The pulverizing force only grew more intense. “It’s all right,” he said. He has a nice voice, Emi thought. It was a voice like spring sunshine. Suddenly, she felt a weight on her head. A hand. The president had laid his hand on her head. Warmth bloomed from his touch. It felt like her blood was circulating through her entire body from that point of contact. Emi was finally able to take a deep breath. She looked up. “Uck—,” she gasped. She wanted to throw up, but the nausea was unrelated to the pressure that had been battering her until a moment ago. Emi wasn’t looking at the president but at the monster floating in front of him. Its eyes were enormous, cavernous pits that took up over half its face. From its long hair and refined nose and mouth, it was most likely a female spirit, but it was so grotesque that it was hard to believe it had ever been human. It was monstrously misshapen. Beneath its giant head hung crude hands and toylike feet. Emi had plenty of experience with the unliving, but she had never seen anything as deformed as this. She was so terrified her voice wouldn’t come out. The spirit was close enough for their breaths to mingle. Its hair draped over Emi’s face, clinging to her skin. “Seet. Mee. Hee.” The sounds emerged from the monster’s puny mouth. “Seet. Mee. Hee.” It turned the pitch-black craters of its eyes toward Emi— “Can you start tomorrow?” The clear voice resounded through the room. The monster vanished at the same time. The president, whom Emi could see at last, had a bland appearance, which contrasted with his sonorous voice. He looked completely different from his picture on the company website. The CEO of the company—Moriya Foods—was Hidemitsu Moriya, a man in his sixties with a stern face. But the man before her could not have been more than thirty. In fact, he looked younger than Emi. He could have been a high schooler. The president removed his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief from his breast pocket. Without his glasses, his appearance was even less memorable, but for some reason, he left a good impression on Emi. The next thing she knew, she was already agreeing to his employment offer. She had never made a spontaneous decision before. It normally took her ages to decide. Playing things by ear was beyond her. Unsurprisingly, the interviewers were troubled by the turn of events as well. “But we are still in the middle of the interview, sir…,” the middle-aged one said. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me sir?” the president said. The interviewer fell silent, his eyes darting about restlessly. “I finally found you,” the president said to Emi. “You are marvelous. I could not be more pleased.” He wrapped Emi’s hand in both of his and smiled at her softly. Like earlier, when he had rested his hand on her, warmth flooded from his touch all through her body. She had never felt happier. Her cheeks were wet; she was crying. When she lifted a finger to wipe away her tears, the president took hold of it gently and blotted her cheek with his handkerchief instead. “Please call me Jan,” he said. Emi nodded dazedly, filled with joy. Jan. The name sounded Chinese. Why did the others refer to him as the president when he wasn’t? What was the abomination from earlier? At the moment, none of those things mattered. With her head in a fog, Emi went home and messaged her brother, Youta. I got an offer. Sorry to worry you. Where? came the reply. Moriya Foods, she swiped on the keyboard. Just by pressing M, she felt pride so fierce it made her fingers shake. No one from their hometown would ever have imagined she could land a job at Moriya Foods. She herself found it hard to believe, but as she typed out the company name, fantasy became reality, and she felt happy. You’re lying, Youta replied. A sticker of a cat with a befuddled expression popped up on her screen. No, I’m not, she messaged back. Prove it. Emi took a screenshot of the email with her offer and sent it to him. After a minute, he responded, I guess I’m convinced, but the time and place are insane. The email instructed her to report to work the next day at six in the morning at a location far from the office she had visited. In fact, it wasn’t even in Tokyo proper. The company seems exploitative. Best not, he sent. Emi responded with a sticker of a girl with a noncommittal smile before tossing her phone on the couch. So what if she had to go in a little early? They were talking about a workplace that had embraced someone like her. On top of that, Moriya Foods was an elite company and a household name. There weren’t any bad rumors about it on the job-hunting forums or the recruitment boards, either. Emi looked at the clock. It was ten at night. Where had the time gone? Floating in her contented haze, she hadn’t noticed the time passing at all. She wasn’t even hungry. The next day, she would have to leave the house at five at the latest. It was time to brush her teeth and go to sleep. She plugged in her phone to charge it and got ready for bed. Even after lying down, she found herself thinking about how happy Jan’s touch had made her. When was the last time I felt that way? she wondered, a faint smile playing at her lips as she drifted off to sleep. The station in the early morning was deserted. Emi stifled a yawn as she boarded her train. Then it hit her. She hadn’t seen anything that morning. What in the world? Emi’s life was plagued by the unliving. While spirits rarely latched on to her like Pancake Girl had the previous day, as she made a habit of walking with her head down to avoid drawing attention, she had never once gone a day without seeing one. Between leaving the house and arriving at the station, however, she hadn’t run into any. The dead were starved for conversation, even if they weren’t usually as desperate as Pancake Girl. Therefore, they favored crowded places over desolate ones and were always looking for someone to respond to them. Emi would have understood if there had been fewer of them than usual, but none was an abnormality. On her way to the station, she hadn’t even seen the little girl who was always shrieking her head off, fixated on something in the trees on the street. Perhaps she was finally rid of her abominable, good-for-nothing ability. That has to be it, Emi thought, smiling. She didn’t know how or why, but this blessing must be related to her offer from Moriya—to Jan. She couldn’t imagine otherwise. The proof was the way Pancake Girl had disappeared when Emi had stepped inside the building. The office had smelled good. The interviewers had been kind. The gentle and pure atmosphere around Jan must sanctify the space and ward off the undesirables—the nonhuman and dreadful. She felt joy come over her as she recalled the warmth of Jan’s palm. She had completely forgotten the eerie female spirit that had manifested before he’d touched her head. “Hey, you.” Emi’s good mood was ruined by an old man who sidled up to her without a sound. He must have been at least seventy. Wrinkles were carved into the sunbaked face. It was hard to say if he was indeed a man, but his short, shaved hair suggested he was. He was wearing filthy work clothes and a thin-lipped smile. Given his solid physical presence, he was likely a living human being. A pervert. She pretended she hadn’t heard him. She walked through life shrunk in on herself. Inconspicuous and friendless, Emi had always been a magnet for lechers, especially gropers. They singled her out as the perfect victim. All she could do was adamantly ignore them, the same way she did the unliving, and wait for them to lose interest. “I know you can hear me,” the man said. There was a strange lilt in his speech. Contrary to his disgusting appearance, he smelled fresh and woodsy. She felt no telltale weight on her shoulders, either. He was human. The man continued, “If you can hear me, that’s good enough. Where are you going, my child?” Why the hell would I tell you? she thought, screwing her eyes closed. Maybe she should pretend she was sleeping. “I see. ■■■, is it?” Emi looked up reflexively. The old man had guessed correctly. “You finally looked at me,” he said, still wearing the same faint smile. “■■■… Must you go?” What’s he going on about? “What indeed? I was simply wondering whether that is really the place for you.” The place for me? I don’t get it. “But if you have to, you have to.” Of course I have to. This is the company that was charitable enough to choose someone like me. “An employer… I suppose that’s just how it is, but it would be better not to, really.” Why is he still talking to me? This geezer’s— Emi was struck by a realization. She hadn’t said a single word the entire time. Yet they had been conversing. No way. Is he reading my—? “I’m worried for you.” He was rifling through her mind again. She was disgusted. The ingratiating smirk on his face made her want to throw up. That woodsy scent of his, which she had at first thought refreshing, was now only unpleasant. “Disgusting? How rude. What you’ll be doing after this is far more revolting.” He did not stop there. “The man is like a…god to you? A god. But you should choose the god you believe in… Since you won’t listen to anything I say at this time, however, I’ll give you this.” Everything fell into place. He was part of a cult. She attracted zealots and scammers as often as gropers. Emi didn’t know how the man was reading her mind, but he must have been a spiritual salesman. His ploy was to unsettle his victims using honeyed words and prey on their unease to sell his wares. She was happier than she had ever been, yet here this man was, warning her that it was dangerous for her to go to the person who had shown her such happiness. It was nothing short of malicious. He had said he was going to give her something. It would probably be an amulet or talisman of some sort, for which he would undoubtedly charge her an absurd amount. She looked back down. Surely, he wouldn’t hand her anything as long as she avoided eye contact. The man seemed persistent, however, considering how he had insistently talked to her even though she had feigned obliviousness. He might refuse to give up and leave the object on the seat instead. If he did, she would walk away from it. Emi braced herself. But nothing happened. After what felt like ten minutes had passed, she nervously looked up. The old man had disappeared. She scanned her surroundings, but there was only a handful of other passengers. She couldn’t see anything that he could have given her, either. It was as if the entire exchange had been an illusion. Emi decided the old man was one of the unliving. That would explain how he had appeared out of nowhere to harangue her, how he had known what she was thinking, and how he had disappeared without a trace. There was no way he had been a flesh-and-blood human. She must have been the only one who could see him. Emi tried to convince herself of that over and over again. Suddenly, she thought back to Jan again. His warm hand. The joy she had felt after exchanging only two or three words with him. He had called her marvelous. Maybe she could open up to him about her ability. He would understand her suffering. He might even tell her that this disposition of hers was wonderful. Everyone says you’re a liar. The unrecognizable voice tore through her fantasy. No one believes you. You poor thing. That was right. She had always been alone because of her ability. Her brother was the only person she could trust. Emi slapped her hands to her face. This made a louder sound than she was expecting. She jumped, but the other passengers were engrossed in their phones and did not so much as glance at her. Yes. I’m gloomy. Dull. Useless. Invisible to everyone. It’s a miracle that I met a genuinely kind person, but if he found out about my ability, he would be disgusted. No matter how kind he is, he’ll flee from a freak like me. “There’s only one person on my side,” Emi said aloud. A somber mood fell over her, familiar and reassuring. Just then, the conductor announced that they were about to arrive at her destination. Using the window as a mirror, she adjusted her bangs and waited for the doors to open. “Is this really the right place?” Emi wondered aloud. She had felt vaguely unsettled even before disembarking, but the location was completely different from what she had imagined. From the address, she knew that it was outside the city, but she hadn’t seen a single convenience store from the train station. There had been one antiquated diner, but it was empty and lifeless; she doubted whether it was even in business. As per the email, someone from the company had come to pick her up, so she had not gotten lost. However desolate the station had been, though, the branch office was even more so. In the middle of a forest that could not have seen the hands of a landscaper sat a building that resembled the oversize gymnasium of Emi’s high school. Strangely, the employee who had driven didn’t say a word to her on the way. She’d figured that he was focused on the road, and since she was an introvert, she preferred silence anyway. However, it had been a shock when he dropped her off and left her alone in such a cheerless place without any explanation. Plus, he’d jerked in surprise when she thanked him. Emi had on a suit just like the one she’d worn for the interview. The email had said to wear her everyday clothes, but it would have been shameful, according to the rules of Japanese society, to show up in casual clothing. She didn’t think she looked suspicious enough to warrant surprise by saying a few words, so why had the driver reacted so poorly? Despair crept over her. She checked the time on her phone and walked around the perimeter of the building. No one could blame her for being anxious at having been abandoned in a remote and unfamiliar place. Five minutes felt like an hour. Every scrape of the tree branches against one another had her worrying that a bear would appear. But that wasn’t the only thing she was afraid of. She feared that her brother was right about Moriya being an exploitative company, and that she was walking into a hazing ritual disguised as an orientation. According to the job-hunting forums, there was a major fast-food chain that intentionally terrorized new hires to weed them out based on their reactions…if she recalled correctly. Had she been completely duped? She was swamped with doubt. From the location to the time, none of it made sense. Maybe a malicious person had forged her offer email. It had been sent from a legitimate domain, but in this day and age, that could be easily spoofed. Once she gave in to her paranoia, it consumed her. There was one detail that was more suspicious than all the rest. In the eerie grove, there wasn’t a single unliving in sight. I knew it. My ability is gone, Emi thought. She had always hoped she could be rid of her disposition, but now and only now did she wish for the opposite. The mundane was reassuring; the unusual was dreadful. She hadn’t realized how terrifying it was when the things that should have been present—should have been visible—weren’t. People who were afraid of ghosts and demons thought unseen sounds and voices were scary. Emi, who could see the unseeable, always thought that sounded like a luxury. For her, ghosts were not scary. They were nuisances she wished would disappear. But now she finally understood. To be unable to see was frightening, and to be irritated was far better than to be afraid. The old man from before popped into Emi’s mind. He had said that she should stay away from this place. They hadn’t exchanged a single word, but he had left an indelible impression on her. Like a rock in the road, he was an impediment that had shown up just when her life was starting to go well. He had seen through her, given her a token—or so he had said—and vanished without a sound. There was no doubt that he had some kind of mysterious power. He must have done something to Emi. Everyone says you’re a liar. It was the same voice from earlier. “I’m a liar.” Saying it aloud gave her relief. “I’m a liar. I’m a liar. I’m a liar.” Emi chanted over and over again to dismiss the unease in her heart. Rustle, rustle. Suddenly, Emi heard a noise coming from behind her. It was different from the sound of the trees. Something was coming. This time, it could actually be a bear. However, the footsteps were unhurried, and they didn’t sound like they belonged to a large animal. The road Emi had taken was maintained—or at least it had been at one point—and was wide enough for two cars, if barely. But the road was to her left, and the building that resembled a gym was in front of her. The sound had come not from the road, but from a direction where there shouldn’t have been anything. Just then, a possibility that was far more horrifying than any bear came to her. What if it was the imposter that had sent her the scam email to lure her here? She had an unremarkable face, but the kind of body that men desired; it had certainly caught the attention of her roguish upperclassman. Whoever had tricked her might have had those kinds of intentions. Resignation welled up inside her at the thought. Maybe this was her fate. Maybe the disappearance of her ability for the day was God’s gift to her before she died. If she was assaulted, she decided to die obediently without a fight. Once she made her resolution, she found herself slightly less afraid. Emi took a deep breath. She turned around to find the woman with the giant face in front of her eyes. The empty, yawning sockets that could swallow a person whole. The misshapen figure. It dawned on her that in the face of true terror, humans are unable to make a sound. All the strength flooded out of her body, and she fell backward on her butt. A moment before she hit the ground, however, someone wrapped their arm around her. “Are you all right?” It was Jan. Unlike when she had seen him during her interview, he was dressed in loose white clothing. Emi was undeniably relieved. The woman that had been looming in front of her a moment ago had vanished right when Jan appeared. However… “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m…so, so sorry,” she babbled. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to use the dirty restrooms at the desolate station, but that had been a mistake. The shock had made her lose control of her bladder. She continued to apologize profusely through tears. In middle school, her bullies had once locked her in a supply shed, and unable to hold it in, she had peed herself. She had cried, desperate and ashamed, until her brother had come to pick her up. She was far more pathetic now than then. She was already an adult. To have done the unthinkable on her first day… “Oh, I see. You came here in a suit.” Jan smiled at Emi. “What a proper person you are. However, I will be having you perform a few simple chores today, so please change. I’ve prepared some spare clothing for you.” Emi was taken aback. Jan wasn’t disgusted by her accident. Far from it. He didn’t even seem surprised. She was unable to find the words to say, and when she didn’t respond, he guided her inside the building with a gentle hand on her waist. “You must have traveled far. I must apologize for making you wait,” Jan said. “It—it’s nothing…” Emi found herself tongue-tied. Jan smelled mellow, sweet, and good, just like he had on the day of her interview. She forgot she had been crying not moments ago and walked forward in a trance. The clothes he gave her fit perfectly. They were white and loose like his. The changing room had not only showers but pairs of one-size underwear. Jan had told her to take her time, so she did, carefully washing away the grime and getting dressed. Normally, she would have been too preoccupied by her unfortunate accident to take a leisurely shower, but for some reason, she didn’t feel a hint of her usual anxiety around Jan. Jan would accept everything about her. That was how he made her feel. This unusual sense of comfort had lingered with her since her interview. Perhaps it was because she could picture his saintly, affectionate smile. Everyone she’d ever met wore their irritation or sadistic desires plain on their faces. He was different. Plus, Jan was neither remarkably attractive nor hideous. Unlike Emi’s parents and brother, who had the contemporary attractiveness of minor celebrities, he had a forgettable face. It was a refreshing change from the people who had been by her side until now. She didn’t feel inferior around him. And then there was his smell. The same quiet, pleasant fragrance drifted off the collar of the white shirt she was wearing. His scent. That alone made Emi feel euphoric. What did it smell like? She felt like she had experienced it before. It was possibly her favorite scent in the world. She could breathe it in forever. Intoxicated by bliss, Emi left the changing room. “Are the clothes tight or scratchy?” Jan asked her. “Not at all,” she said. “They’re perfect… Thank you.” He smiled softly. “Then come this way. There’s a task I would like for us to do together.” He took her by the hand and pulled her forward. From the outside, the building looked like a gymnasium, but the interior was quite complex. There were many other rooms in addition to the changing and shower rooms. What looked like a wall was actually a door. Stairs that weren’t visible from outside led to a whole basement. Emi looked around in amazement as she walked. Whenever she would come to a standstill, Jan would squeeze her hand and shake his head. The warmth of his palm made her happy, and she stopped several times deliberately. Shortly, they arrived at a room the size of a college lecture hall, with a blue tarp spread on the floor. Emi was dumbfounded. She had requested to be placed in the R&D department. What were they going to do in this room, just the two of them? “First, we’ll make mud,” Jan declared. He dragged a heavy burlap sack over from the corner and dumped its contents—soil—onto the tarp. “Um, by mud, do you mean…?” Emi asked without thinking. He stopped. “What’s wrong?” “Uh…er…I was only wondering what I should do…” He stared blankly at her for a few moments, before his lips curved into his usual smile. “You don’t have to do anything yet. I can handle the tedious stuff. I won’t need your help until later.” “Oh, that isn’t what I meant. Quite the opposite. If I may offer my assistance…,” she said timidly. “But what does making…mud…is it?—have to do with product development…?” “Nothing,” he answered bluntly, still smiling. “I see… Of course. I shouldn’t expect to be given any responsibility on my first day… This must be part of the orientation—” “What we are doing is far more marvelous than work,” he interrupted. “And it’s something that only you can do.” “Only I can… But what exactly…?” Just then, Jan stepped forward and took her into his arms. Her heart leaped. The rustle of cloth against cloth. The comforting pressure. The faint hint of warm skin through their clothing. Emi had never been so close to another person. Jan was not much taller than her. His looks were unassuming, and his build was slender. At a glance, he would pass for a high school student. He could not be said to be masculine, and yet she felt toward him an unnamable emotion that was not exactly love or lust. It was abnormal to hold such intense feelings for someone she had just met. On the heels of her doubt, Jan asked, “Do you dislike this?” His arms tightened almost imperceptibly around her. Their cheeks nearly touched. “If you do, I’ll stop. If product development is what you desire, I will introduce you to the department. But I would like to make one request of you. Spend one day with—” “I don’t dislike it.” The words came crisply. Conviction drove her tongue. “Not one bit, sir.” It wasn’t flattery. It was the truth. She was dreary by nature. She couldn’t look people in the eyes. No one understood her, no matter where she went. How could she possibly refuse a request from someone who had taken her in and called her brilliant? “Don’t call me sir. It’s Jan,” he whispered, so close their breath mingled. He then loosened his hold. “Yes, sir… Jan…,” she mumbled, mourning the loss of his warmth. “You don’t have to be so hesitant. Also, just speak to me like we’re friends. I don’t mind.” “I…I couldn’t possibly…” “But you are an angel from above.” “I see…” Emi smiled noncommittally and brushed off the compliment. However, Jan’s eyes were serious, and her cooling body became flushed with heat again. At the same time, she realized why he had been treating her so nicely since her interview: He liked her as a man does a woman. In recent times, hiring a woman because of physical attraction—a hotness hire—was recognized as a form of discrimination. Even supposing that was why she had been hired, Jan’s actions—entreating her to work alone with him, holding her hand, embracing her—would clearly be considered sexual harassment. But that applied only when the other person was unwilling. Emi was not in the least. Not even a blatant pickup line like “You’re an angel” made her uncomfortable. Far from it. Her happiness ratcheted up a notch. Will you settle for anyone who shows you kindness? The voice filled her head, so frosty it made her quiver. No one would want you buttering up to them. It’s unsightly. Control yourself. Emi shoved Jan away instinctively. She had been so happy. She hadn’t disliked his touch in the slightest. But she had become conscious of her own repulsiveness, and with that knowledge came guilt. Regardless of whether his intentions had been sexual from the start, she couldn’t in good conscience let a compassionate man like Jan waste his kindness on her. When Emi didn’t speak, Jan turned away and began to move the burlap sacks again. “I apologize. I was overeager,” he said. She tried to string together a sentence, but given her clumsiness with words, she didn’t believe she could improve the situation. Seeing Jan so despondent made her want to cry. Still, she couldn’t leave him to work alone, so she tried to put the situation behind her. “I-I’ll help,” Emi said. She watched and mimicked him, strewing the dirt over the tarp. After ten minutes, about half the tarp around the room was covered with soil. Jan told her to wait and stepped out of the room. He returned holding a hose with a spray nozzle. “Let’s make the mud,” he said. “All right.” She didn’t question him this time. Without another word, she began to mix the water from the hose and the dirt together. “Please aim for this consistency,” Jan said, handing Emi a ball of mud to squeeze. The heat of his hand seemed to linger on the muddy clump, and she dropped it without thinking. He reassured her that it was all right, his smile never leaving his lips. Jan’s hands were elegant as they kneaded the mud. She couldn’t take her eyes off them. In the movie Ghost, there is a famous scene where the two protagonists make pottery. She had watched it when she was little, so her memory was hazy. Back then, she hadn’t gotten the point of the scene at all, but watching his hands, she understood. Hands were intensely arousing parts of the human body. Everyone says you’re disgusting. The voice reverberated in her head. She knew that Jan wasn’t the kind of person to say something so horrible. However, he might be repulsed by her staring. Emi shoved down the wicked desires growing inside her and focused on mixing the water and soil. After a while, they finished incorporating the water. The result was a large quantity of mud. “First, we’ll make birds. I’ll show you,” Jan said. He shaped the thick mud into a small bird in an instant. Doubt wriggled anew in Emi’s mind. The bird Jan had made was superb—there was no question about it. If it weren’t brown, it could be mistaken for the real thing. She couldn’t believe he could craft so elaborate a figurine in minutes. But what for? Why a bird? What was this ability of his for? Of course, Moriya Foods manufactured and sold DIY candy kits and cute, eye-catching confectionaries. But while illustration was one thing, 3D modeling seemed like work that would be contracted out. Emi hadn’t gone to art school. If anything, her artistic ability was on the low end of the spectrum. Sculpting birds couldn’t possibly be the “something wonderful” only she could do. In the end, she kept her questions to herself and copied Jan. She couldn’t disappoint the man who had taken an interest in her. Her finished product was a hunk of mud that could pass for a bird if one squinted. As she set it next to Jan’s, she felt like she was at a public execution. “I’m terrible at this,” she said. “You are not. Very well done. Keep going, just like that.” Jan began to mold the mud again, churning out birds in the blink of an eye. “That’s amazing,” she exclaimed in spite of herself. He lowered his eyes bashfully, an expression that was charming in a different way than his gentle smile. “I do not deserve your praise. I feel somewhat self-conscious.” She met his wide-eyed gaze. “But you have shown me the same courtesy from the start, sir…Jan.” “I am delighted, if abashed.” They cracked up simultaneously. For a while, they shared a gut-busting laugh together. She felt like she was a preschooler again, playing in the mud with the boy she had a crush on. “Let’s stop here for today.” Jan’s voice snapped Emi out of her trance. They were both covered in mud. She eyeballed his intricately crafted birds. There were seventeen in total. She, on the other hand, had made only twelve crude lumps. “I’m sorry. I’m no good at this… I didn’t even make very many…,” Emi said. Now that she’d come to her senses, she was embarrassed. She had gotten worked up over a bit of attention and had made a fool of herself. She had even deluded herself with mortifying fantasies. Self-pity and humiliation bloomed in her heart. Once she gave voice to these feelings, she found that she couldn’t stop talking. “I…I’ve always struggled with reading the room, ever since I was little. Nothing has ever worked out for me… Everyone h-hated me. I studied hard and got into college, but I had no friends…” Logically, Emi knew that haranguing her boss, whom she had only recently met, with her masochistic tirade was rude as well, but as she spoke, all the anguish and sorrow she had suffered came pouring out. “That’s why I’ve never really talked to men, and…I got excited just because you were a little nice to me… I’m disgusting, aren’t I?” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “Back home, they said I was creepy for sucking up… That I was an ugly, stupid, useless liar who always got ahead of myself…” Jan opened his mouth. “Who was it? Who cursed you this way?” A quiet rage burned in his eyes. “Why do you go so far to put yourself down? Whose fault is it? I’ll make them pay.” He took her hand and laid it on his own cheek; he paid no mind that the mud caked on her skin was getting on him. She noticed he was trembling. Jan’s anger appeared to be genuine. His face twisted in fury, he chanted under his breath, “Before the pit. Cask. Side by side…” Emi shrieked and shook off his hand. It had grown hot enough to burn. Jan’s expression cleared. “I’m sorry. I lost control of myself.” In the next moment, his usual kind smile returned to his face. “But you shouldn’t speak badly of yourself. Please stop.” “Yes…,” Emi answered hesitantly. Her tears had dried up. “This may be inappropriate to say, but I hadn’t anticipated the strength of the curse you’re under, so I won’t mince words.” He knelt before her. “I love you.” She broke out in a sweat. She tried to reply, but no words would come out of her mouth, just air. “I’m in love with you. There is no one more precious than you on this earth.” She had to respond, but she was tongue-tied. Nothing she said would be meaningful anyway. I love you. The words were seared into her mind. She couldn’t think. Emi opened and closed her mouth, unable to form a single sentence. Jan broke out in laughter that was high and childlike, as if he found the situation comical. “I don’t expect you to respond, nor do I need you to. It’s all right. I only wanted you to know. I adore you from the bottom of my heart.” “But how could you…when I’m so…?” she managed to wrench out. “You mustn’t say that,” he chided lightly. “Anyway, it has gotten dark indeed. Let’s clean up and head back. I’ll see you home.” Jan refused to take no for an answer, so Emi ended up going along with his plans. Instead of cleaning off in the showers, she used a large bath on the premises, after which she changed into brand-name clothing she could have never afforded and returned to her cheap apartment in the kind of black luxury car she had only ever seen in movies. As soon as she opened her door, she was swamped by a sense of cloying exhaustion, and she toppled over. She had never felt so drained. Why? How? Was it because of first-day nerves? But she hadn’t been nervous. Jan had been kind and warm from the beginning. He had done nothing but try to soothe her. Was it because she hadn’t been used to the labor? But the room had been comfortable and her clothes loose and breathable. On top of that, she had warmed up in a spacious bath and taken a nap on the way home in a lavish car. It just didn’t make sense, no matter how much she thought about it. Emi didn’t have the strength to move a finger. Whatever. She had already bathed, and her clothes and underwear were brand-new. If thinking didn’t help, then why bother? Her eyelids drooped. She gave in and fell asleep. Emi is flying. Beneath her is a sea of red. After a time, she begins to descend, and the details on the ground slowly come into view. It is a pasture. It’s night, so she can’t see any cattle or horses, but it is almost definitely a pasture. She flies toward it. The next thing she knows, she’s landing in front of a ramshackle building. It’s lit. Somehow she senses that no matter what, no matter what happens, she must not go inside. “Help me.” Someone is behind her. She turns around to find a crowd. The field was empty only seconds ago, but now, a throng of women are jostling for space. “Help me,” one woman begs, wrapping herself around Emi’s leg. “They murdered my baby,” another screams. “They skewered him whole.” “My baby was tender.” “My baby was so tender. They skewered her so deep.” “I crushed my baby.” “They skewered him.” “He was so tender.” “They skewered her.” “They skewered her.” “She was so tender; they skewered her deep.” “They skewered him.” All the women cradle infants who are skewered from their anuses, the stakes protruding from their mouths. Unable to stay quiet any longer, Emi asks, “Did you really believe you would be saved if you offered up a soft, scrumptious baby?” The woman at her feet wails, her cries filled with so much anguish it hurts to hear. “There is none righteous,” Emi proclaims. The tempest of their howls grows ever more violent. Emi steps forward to enter the building, but a crushing force bears down on her head. She falls to her knees. “It is not yet time.” The voice echoes in her head. “It is not yet time.” It is so. “Memoriam. Eternal slumber. Thermal insulation.” She is pulled back into the air. She looks down at the city as it is consumed by flames. Emi jerked out of her dreams—literally jerked—and tumbled out of her bed, hitting her knee hard. Gone was the fatigue that had sunk into her like mud from the night before. In its place was a splitting headache and overwhelming nausea. She ran to the bathroom and tried to vomit, but all that came up was a dribble of thin, clear, and sour bile. It did not relieve her headache or nausea. She dragged herself back to bed and checked the clock by her pillow. Eight thirty AM. Oh, hell. The previous night, Jan had said a car would come for her at nine in the morning. She was still wearing the clothes she had come home in, not to mention she was drenched in sweat… Going to work in her state was out of the question. She had to get ready, but the pain in her head made all her movements sluggish. Somehow she managed to wash her face, brush her teeth, and wipe off her sweat with a towelette; she wouldn’t have been able to shower in time. She hung up the clothes Jan had given her. Valentino. The brand had gotten a lot of buzz when Satomi Ishihara wore it. Why had Jan given her clothing that a star actress would wear? No matter how much he liked her, there was no reason to go so far. She knew she had to return them. Yet they fit so perfectly, they seemed to have been tailored for her. And then there was the fact that Jan had said he loved her. The intercom rang while Emi was lost in her thoughts. The video monitor showed the man who had driven her from the station to the facility the day prior. He was wearing the same vacant expression. As she picked up her bag, she realized she might throw up if she got into the car in her condition. She dug through a plastic drawer for nausea medication. At that moment, her arm moved of its own volition and threw the drawer to the ground. Completely ignoring what Emi wanted, the rebellious limb flapped violently, scattering things in her vicinity throughout the room. “Stop it. Stop it.” Her screams did nothing. Not even a minute passed before the room became a wreck. Only then did her arm stop. The mug on the desk, the neatly arranged figurines, the amulet from a shrine, even one of the glass rabbits her brother had given her were shattered to pieces. Why did this happen? Her apartment was small, but it had been orderly. A clean room was one of the few things she could be proud of, given her uselessness. That pride lay in tatters before her, ruined by none other than her own arm. Emi ran a finger aimlessly along the edges of the floorboards. She hadn’t lost sensation. Nonetheless, her arm felt more like an alien creature than a part of her body. She wanted to tear it off. She stayed sitting on the floor. Then the doorbell rang again. “Is everything all right?” the man asked, sounding bored and irritated. “I’m coming…,” Emi answered. She got to her feet, averting her eyes from the disaster that was her room. Her headache wasn’t gone, but it had dulled slightly from the shock. She wanted to clean up more than anything, but she had to go to work. Melancholic, Emi slipped on her shoes. “Ouch—” Stabbed deep into her heel was a shard of glass. The journey was nothing short of awful. Just as she’d anticipated, Emi felt ill the entire time. Whenever the car stopped at a light, she felt like she would throw up and would press her hand to her mouth. Each time this happened, the driver would glare at her. He didn’t say anything to her directly, but she felt apologetic and would always mumble a quiet “I’m sorry.” He never responded. The repetition drained her mentally. She had no hope of recovering. She fought her nausea as the car rumbled and rocked for the better part of an hour. The driver dropped her off in a wide field. The location was different from the day before. She hadn’t had the luxury of enjoying the scenery during the ride, but the place appeared to be far from the city center once again. The car sped away, leaving Emi behind. Despite knowing that it was meaningless, she nevertheless stayed bowing until she could no longer see the taillights. A hand landed on her shoulder from behind. “Good morning.” It was Jan. The shoulder he had touched warmed. He has a remarkable power like the sun, Emi thought. In fact, seeing his face blew away the fatigue that clung to her, though her headache still remained. “Oh, you’re injured.” Jan took her hand without fuss. “Does it hurt? You have grazes everywhere.” “I-I’m fine.” On the contrary, Emi’s heart leaped every time she looked in his eyes. The situation may have been normal for him, but she felt embarrassed. As he had said he loved her, however, it didn’t seem like she could stop being hyperaware of him. He could stand to be more bashful. However, he merely stood there with his typical warm smile. He might be a major ladies’ man, Emi thought. She thought back to Yamaike, who had been incredibly popular. Bad boys had been all the rage in her hometown, but more than his heartthrob image, it must have been his indiscriminate kindness that made him attractive to women. Maybe Jan was the same way. Yes, he had a plain face, but Emi couldn’t imagine a woman who wouldn’t fall for his compassion and smile. It was surely hubris for her to think she was special. She tried to regain her composure by reminding herself of that fact. “How could you be fine? Let me treat you,” Jan said. “Come this way.” He gestured to a hut a short way off. She stepped forward to follow him. “Ow,” she cried inadvertently. A pebble had entered her shoe and struck her wound from the glass shard with pinpoint accuracy. “I knew you weren’t okay,” Jan said. “It’s just a pebble…” “This won’t do.” His expression was solemn. “In places such as this, it is easy for pollutants to invade you.” By pollutants, did he mean bacteria or viruses? All of a sudden, Jan sank to his knees. He grabbed Emi’s foot and dragged her closer, so that she was nearly stepping on his forehead. Flustered, she tried to straighten herself, but he had her in a viselike grip, and she couldn’t pull away. He took off her socks in the blink of an eye and leaned in close to her injured foot. Something moist and soft started to probe her wound. Before she could ask what on earth was happening, she heard, “Memoriam. Eternal slumber. Thermal insulation.” Jan repeated in a quiet but clear voice, “Memoriam. Eternal slumber. Thermal insulation.” Like the day before, her body started to heat up, but this time, it felt pleasant. Her fatigue and pain receded. Though on a rational level she understood that it was horribly creepy for a man she’d known for only a few days to lick her bare foot, oddly she didn’t feel uncomfortable about it at all. More importantly… “Those words… Why do you…?” The memory came back to her slowly. Her dream from last night. She had overlooked a city in flames. She had spoken with its inhabitants. It had been her own dream, but her will had not been her own. It had felt like she was controlled by an outside force, a force whose voice she had heard. Memoriam. Eternal slumber. Thermal insulation. Those had been the words. Memoriam. Eternal slumber. Thermal insulation. Why had Jan chanted them? Her pain was gone, she didn’t feel even a modicum of discomfort, and yet her heart was beating far faster than it had been earlier. Despite Emi’s uneasiness, Jan answered with a smile. “Think of it as a good luck charm. Have you heard ‘Pain, pain, go away’ or the idea of kissing something to make it better? It’s similar.” “But I…my dream…” His face lit up, and he looked straight at her. “Splendid.” He took her hand and said in singsong: “Dreams are like prophecies. You’ve made so much progress.” His smile was pure and beautiful. Emi swallowed. “You are as brilliant as I thought,” Jan said. “I don’t…” His affectionate gaze bore into her. “I love you.” All the questions Emi had wanted to fling at Jan and the memory of her dream flew out the window. Just those three little words from his mouth made her feel like she could fly. She could no longer think of anything but him. What was so brilliant? What about her did he love? None of those things mattered. His praise and love for her made her feel triumphant. Emi didn’t know why she adored so deeply a man she had just met, a man who looked like a mere teenager. Words tumbled out of her mouth. “I love—” “You mustn’t,” he cut her off. “You must not say those words recklessly. Nor do I wish for them.” Her eyes filled with tears. Emi felt like she was going to cry. She was used to rude treatment. She was used to botching conversations. But it still hurt terribly that she couldn’t express that she felt the same way as Jan. A moment ago, she’d been euphoric, but now, besieged by misery, she wanted nothing more than to be gone. A teardrop fell on the ground. She could no longer hold back. She started to sob loudly, as if she were a child. “Please don’t cry,” Jan said. “I phrased that poorly.” He took out a wooden mallet from who knows where and slammed it down on his left hand. It made a sickening sound. The base of his thumb began to visibly swell. Expressionless, he swung the mallet again. Two, three times he struck. His fingers bent in impossible directions. “Stop,” Emi said. But he didn’t. A drop of blood, then a second dripped down his hand. “Please stop…” The dull crack of bone breaking. The smack of skin against a hard object. The drip-drop of blood. Jan didn’t cry out in pain. In fact, his lips were curved in a shallow smile. He hit his hand again and again. “Stop it!” Emi shrieked after the umpteenth time. She grabbed his arm, and only then did his brutal, mechanical self-mutilation stop. “Why would you do that?!” “It’s simple.” Jan smiled. “Because I hurt you.” He slipped the mallet back into his jacket. She hadn’t been able to tell because of his slight frame, but he was wearing a belt bag underneath. “If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” “Who cares what I… What does it matter?” “It matters. Because I love you. And…I misspoke earlier. I apologize. What I had wanted to say was that I am not worthy of your love.” He then said, “Come with me,” and walked forward, pulling on Emi’s hand with the hand that hadn’t been pulverized beyond recognition. Disoriented, she could do nothing but follow him. “You and I are not equals. I love you, but I do not want you to love me. You belong to a different stratum,” Jan said. “I don’t understand,” Emi choked out. Her words had no impact on him. He didn’t seem inclined to explain further. She fumbled for what to say next. “Your hand… It’s in bad shape. Are you all right? We should go to the hospital straightaway.” “I’m fine. That won’t be necessary,” he said decisively. “That said…it is true that my hand has sustained some harm. Will you pardon my insolence?” Jan stopped and turned to stare at Emi. She instinctively averted her eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive. What insolence? You haven’t done anything to me… Never mind that. I’m just worried about you. Why…? Out of nowhere, you…” A smile bloomed on his face. “I knew you were kind.” “Memorial. Eternal slumber. Insulation.” After chanting those words again, Jan stretched his hand, which was nothing more than a violet lump. What was going on? His injuries didn’t look better at all, but his hand could now move smoothly. “This should be sufficient,” he said. “Don’t move it too much…,” Emi said. “It’s okay. We will only be watching this time, not to say that watching isn’t important.” She didn’t understand what he was saying. It wasn’t just his words, either. His actions, the way he treated her—she couldn’t read him at all. He had shattered his own hand without warning as atonement for causing her anguish. On top of that, he had told her he wanted to love her one-sidedly. If only his love for her weren’t so complicated… Emi glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but he was only smiling mildly. “Let’s wait for a moment. They should be coming soon…,” Jan said. Then, “Ah, they’re here.” Who’s coming? she wondered. She traced his gaze to see four men and women in the distance walking toward them. Suddenly, she was assaulted with a vicious surge of nausea. “No, I don’t like this. No. No, no, no, no. No.” Words of rejection gushed from her mouth like a muddy stream. It was sickening. From the group wafted a horrible stench the likes of which she had never smelled before. When she breathed in, the stench invaded her entire body, burning it from inside out. It was unbearable. They smelled the same as the monstrous woman with hollow caverns for eyes. “No. No way. Please. I’ll do anything, so please, just stop,” Emi babbled. Jan embraced her. “I can’t convince you otherwise?” She shook her head vigorously. “Then we shall stop here,” he said lightly. “I wanted to introduce you to my brothers and sisters, but the watching is important. Introductions can wait.” Brothers and sisters? Introductions? Watching? Emi had a lot she wanted to ask, but the revulsion won out, and she stayed quiet. She clung to Jan’s arm as they walked back along the road they had come on. After a while, she recovered from the stench and could finally breathe again. She never thought she would find the earthy smell of soil so delightful. Jan rubbed her back, staring off into the distance. Shortly, her breathing returned to normal. “We’ll be heading to that building,” he declared, gesturing to the left at a building made of raw concrete standing inside a greenhouse. “My brothers and sisters will come, but they won’t be able to see you. You won’t have to meet or talk to them. Rest assured.” Jan wrapped an arm around Emi’s shoulders. Unable to say a word, she merely followed his lead. The greenhouse was packed with lilies with no space between them. Unlike the scent from before, this new one wasn’t unpleasant, but it was terribly sweet. Jan and Emi passed through the blossoms, heading for the building. “What do you think of them?” Jan asked as they walked. “They’re pretty…,” Emi replied genuinely. She had never seen lilies so huge and gorgeous before. “I’m happy they are to your liking. This place is for you.” “For me…?” He nodded firmly before striding forward again. Even if she were to ask, “What do you mean it’s for me?” no doubt he would only say, “I love you.” She stayed silent, but she squeezed his arm a little harder as she walked with him. The inside of the building resembled the college Emi had attended. Like the exterior, the floor and walls were made of raw concrete, and there was a room that looked like a lecture hall. She wandered toward it, thinking there must be an explanation for everything she was seeing, but Jan said, “This way,” and guided her to a set of stairs instead. They climbed three flights, and he showed her into a small room. It was similar to a broadcast room in schools or a recording studio. There was a machine that could have been a mixing console and a number of microphones. It was that kind of place. The front wall of the room was glass. It looked down into the lecture hall from before. That being said, there weren’t any chairs or other furniture. There was only a stage at the front. Most likely, folding chairs were brought in for any seminars. In addition, the floor in the center of the room was boxed off and a different color from the rest of the room. Emi was about to ask a question, but Jan had carried in a sofa from somewhere and set it up in front of the glass. “Please sit,” he said. “Now we’ll watch my brothers and sisters perform their task together.” “By brothers and sisters, do you mean your siblings, si—…Jan?” “They are who they are,” he said simply and pointed below them. “They’ll be entering soon.” As he predicted, the four-person group soon filed in. “Uck—,” Emi groaned, struck again by the indescribable queasiness, but unlike earlier, it was tolerable. It was the kind of nausea one felt a day after eating too much greasy food. “I’m sure it’s painful, but…please watch,” Jan said. “Take everything in, until the end.” “Y-yes…,” she said. He smiled at her reply. “First, the rooster will crow.” What rooster? she wanted to ask, but before she could, the tallest man in the group moved. “Cock-a-kroh,” he yelled. The other three echoed in kind. Emi burst out laughing despite herself. Seeing grown adults mimic a rooster was stupidly funny. She composed herself, fearing that Jan would get mad at her for laughing when he had told her to pay attention. She peeked over at him, but he was focused on the group of four, his expression grave, and did not rebuke her. “Cock-aaa-kroooh.” That one had been slightly longer. And louder. Despite the absurdity of their actions, the four people’s faces were unreadable. They began to walk in a circle. “Cock-a-cock-aaa-kroooooh!” they screamed, loud enough for the glass to shake. Emi flinched instinctively. Jan laid a hand on her back. “This is where it starts.” The men and women stopped walking and got down on their hands and knees. At nearly the same time, a long pillar was brought into the lecture hall from the entrance. It looked like the trunk of a large tree that had been felled. A group of people in white work clothes brought it and several more logs in on a cart. They assembled the logs at a rapid pace. It seemed like they were building something on top of the foundation that had been laid in the center of the room. Watching them work, Emi grew more nauseated. Her breathing became labored, as if her lungs were filled with mud that she could not expel. However, she couldn’t avert her eyes. Not only had Jan instructed her to watch until the end, but the scene was also too mesmerizing to be ignored, despite the discomfort it caused her. Emi enjoyed watching cooking videos. That wasn’t because she liked cooking, but rather because she liked seeing the process of how things were made. The scene before her fit that criteria as well. To Emi, it felt like no more than an hour had passed, but the clock showed that five hours had come and gone. In that time, the laborers had worked without a break. At last, they finished the construction. The result resembled the turret of a castle, though it was too bizarre to call it that. The logs had been erected to form a thin tower. From the side, one could see the ends of the logs sticking out of the center in a spiral. But for what purpose? It did not seem like they were meant for people to climb. Emi looked at Jan beside her to see him gazing kindly back at her. “You paid close attention,” he said. “Yes…” The compassion in his eyes was too much for her, so she turned forward again. “How amazing, the speed at which they… Oh, but…” She looked around the tower and noticed something strange. “Those people are still on all fours… Are they all right?” “They’re fine,” Jan answered immediately. “Wha—? Well, I wasn’t watching them the entire time, but…that position must be difficult to hold for a long time…” “They’re fine,” he repeated, without any change in his tone. “I see,” she said. In the face of his blunt insistence, she had no choice but to accept it. Each of the four men and women was wearing a different color, and they stood out among the workers in white. Emi had to make a conscious effort to drive them from her mind. “You are dismissed.” Jan’s voice resounded through the building. At some point, he had moved in front of a microphone. The workers cleaned up after themselves and left as quickly as they had come. The group of four trailed after them, tottering on their feet. The tower stood in the middle of the empty lecture hall, deliberately constructed as a bizarre consecration. Once the four had left, the feeling of suffocation that Emi had been struggling with faded. It was replaced with unease. Upon reflection, bizarre things had been happening to her in succession. She had gone with the flow the day before, but the experience had been undeniably peculiar. Playing in the mud was not working. Today’s events were even stranger. The appearance of the ominous men and women, the strange ritual—yes, ritual—they had been forced to participate in. This wasn’t corporate exploitation. It was far more abnormal— “Is something wrong?” Jan asked, meeting her eyes. And then there was this. Jan’s eyes were a rich brown. Whenever Emi looked in his eyes, she felt like they were sucking her in, rendering her speechless. Her blood flowed quicker, her body grew hotter, and she became permeated with euphoria. It was a sense of happiness so profound that it far exceeded the sum of all the joy she had ever felt in her life. There was no question about it. Jan was abnormal! And yet Emi was intoxicated by him. Her brain became useless junk, filled with nothing but thoughts of him. He was a suspicious character. His words were nonsensical, and he refused to explain anything no matter what she asked. He had repeatedly professed his love to her, but even that was questionable. He had invited the four men and women closer despite her revulsion to them. Not to mention, he had destroyed his own hand as “atonement,” even though she had never wished for such a thing. Emi looked at Jan’s hand. It had almost healed entirely. It was terrifying. Why was he the president even though he still looked like a teenager? Why wouldn’t he give her any normal work? Why had he called the men and women siblings? Why had he chanted the bizarre incantation over and over again? Why had he made her sculpt birds out of mud? Why had he built the tower? Why did he love her? Why did he act in response to her emotions? Why did his injuries heal so quickly? Why did she love him so much? Yes. He was suspicious. Abnormal. Yet Emi would do anything for him. Anything, if it would make him happy. She had always scorned fools who lost their head for the opposite sex and acted absurdly out of love, but now she understood. Now she knew. The emotion called love, more than anything else, was irreplaceable. And love had nothing to do with the length of the relationship. Everyone calls you a liar. No one believes you. Poor thing. Yes. Emi had never been loved by anyone. No matter how long she lived, she doubted she would ever meet anyone as kind as Jan. But… If she told him that, he would surely furrow his brows and say to her in a soft voice, “You mustn’t say that.” Just imagining it filled her with joy. Emi was truly happy. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “Where and when shall I go tomorrow?” Hearing her response, Jan smiled. They walked back hand in hand. Emi felt like she could walk anywhere. She could no longer hear the voice in her head.