Chapter 8
The next day, Kisaragi visited the hospital’s special room to find Arima enjoying a luxurious lunch as usual. Today it was a French full-course meal. Kisaragi walked in just as Arima was sipping from his generously-poured glass of Pétrus.
“Care for a glass with me?” Arima offered.
“I’m working right now.”
Arima shrugged, drained his glass, and looked up at Kisaragi with his round, beady eyes.
“I’d like to be discharged tomorrow.”
“Understood.” Kisaragi looked back at Arima. It was just as Kanesaki had said.
“I have to get back to work soon.” Arima poured himself another glass as he forked a slice of Cheateaubriand steak into his mouth.
“Are you travelling to Russia?”
Arima’s fork paused. “Oh?” he said amusedly. “Who did you hear that from?”
“From Mr. Kanesaki.”
Arima jerked his chin toward the sofa, encouraging Kisaragi to sit down. “I’m surprised to know that you have something going on with the likes of him, doctor.”
“I thought he would have told you already.”
There was no way Arima wouldn’t have already known. Arima neither affirmed nor denied it as he peered into Kisaragi’s face.
“Doctor, do you know that guy’s real name?”
Kisaragi hesitated at the phrase.
“The Chinese characters in his name are read ‘Daiki Kin.’ His first name is written like ‘large tree’ and it’s pronounced Daesu.”
“I see.” The discovery of the man’s Korean name stirred nothing within Kisaragi. He figured the man must have his own set of circumstances. Arima cracked a grin at Kisaragi’s blank face.
“Just like you, doctor. I bet you don’t even ask him anything personal.”
It was true. All Kisaragi did was listen to the other man talk. If Kanesaki wanted to keep silent about things he didn’t want to talk about, then so be it. Kisaragi himself hadn’t said anything about Hasunuma, either.
Arima continued to speak while cutting his steak. “The guy came here over thirty years ago and naturalized. He’s a bona fide Japanese national. Otherwise, his passport would have given him too much hassle to hold down a job in a trading company. Travel has gotten a bit better now, though.”
Kisaragi listened silently to Arima talk.
“Has he told you what he does?” Arima asked. “Illegal money transfers. Some of it transits through Russia and goes up north. And that’s not it - when the money comes back, in comes back in the form of drugs and guns and whatnot.”
Arima peered into Kisaragi’s face again. “He doesn’t live in the same world you do. You shouldn’t get involved with him.”
The man, for some reason, was wearing a worried[m1] look. Kisaragi got up from the sofa without answering.
“I’ll transfer your message to Admissions and Discharges,” he said.