The land and the house standing on it belonged to a man named Kenya Satou. Apparently, it was his mother’s house, but she had passed away six years ago and left it to him. The property was currently being managed by a local real estate agent. As the owner, Kenya must have wanted to sell it, but he hadn’t been able to find a buyer. The other two houses on the same street had also been abandoned under similar circumstances.
Riamu Kinoshita left the house by himself as soon as the sun went down. According to Sousei’s sister, no one had been observed entering or leaving the property until then, meaning that the woman who’d gone into the house with him was still there.
“How’s it going, Sousei?” his sister asked over his earpiece.
Sousei had already climbed the fence and infiltrated the premises. The completely neglected garden would likely turn into an incredible copse of trees in a few more years. The house itself was also quite dilapidated, but none of the windows were broken. Excluding the small ones fitted with frosted glass, all the windows were locked and had their curtains drawn.
“…Well, I think I can get in.”
“Okay. I’ll leave it up to you to decide the route.”
“Roger.”
Sousei went around to the front entrance. From what he could see, the door appeared to have an old-fashioned lock. There was no indication it had been replaced with a more secure one. In that case, picking the lock would be safer and faster than breaking a window to get in.
Calling it “safe” sounds a bit strange, though…
Sousei took a tool from his waist pack and inserted it into the door lock. He had it unlocked in about forty seconds, then put his tool away and opened the door. The door moved smoothly considering how old it was. Sousei went inside and quietly closed it.
But this is a lousy job…
His sister had made it clear that their top priority was searching the house—which was thought to be Kinoshita’s hideout—over observing Sousei’s movements.
That said, it’s not like any jobs are really enjoyable. Thinking about it logically, the woman from yesterday must still be in the house. Regardless of whether she’s unharmed or not…
Neither Sousei nor his sister thought she’d be relaxing in the living room or bedroom.
Obtain evidence…
Riamu Kinoshita was suspected of murdering eleven people in the past three years or so.
Is this going to be the twelfth?
The house’s interior was musty and covered in dust. There were no shoes on the cement floor by the entrance, and it looked completely abandoned. Sousei strained his ears. He couldn’t hear any sounds. He wasn’t sure whether he should use his flashlight, so after a moment he went on in the darkness.
He decided to ignore the stairs leading up to the second floor for the time being. There was a door at the end of the short hallway. Sousei grasped the handle and, by the feel of it, he could tell that the door would probably creak a lot. He opened it carefully.
…Huh? What’s that smell…?
Was it perfume? It was sweet like roses and had refreshing citrus notes. If it were just a gentle waft, it probably wouldn’t smell bad at all, but this was way too strong.
Sousei opened the door about two-thirds of the way and stepped inside. It was dark. He thought it must be a living-dining area with the kitchen at the back and the Buddhist family altar in the adjoining Japanese-style room.
Not only were the drapes completely drawn, but they also seemed to be sealed up with something. In fact, they probably were. It was too dark. Sousei had no idea where anything was. It was pitch-black.
Sousei took the flashlight out of his fanny pack and turned it on. It was one he’d bought online for four thousand yen, but it was rechargeable, and the angle and brightness of the beam could be adjusted. It had been a good buy.
A table. Four chairs. A TV stand, but no TV. A kitchen cabinet. A sofa next to the wall.
“…!”
Sousei unintentionally let out a gasp.
The sofa. Someone was sitting there.
There wasn’t just one, either, but two.
“Sousei?” his sister called.
He didn’t answer.
Sousei cast the light from his flashlight onto the sofa.
People. They were the size and shape of people. Women? Wearing something like underwear—or actually, that was all they were wearing. Both of them.
They weren’t moving.
They didn’t react at all, even when he pointed the flashlight at them. Neither of them so much as twitched.
“…Sis?”
“Is someone there? Or is it…?”
“Please…just wait a moment.”
The two women were maybe in their late teens or early twenties, sitting side by side on the sofa. They didn’t seem to be sleeping. Both women had their eyes open and were looking straight ahead.
They were looking, but were they seeing?
Sousei walked up to the sofa. Sure enough, the women didn’t move a muscle. They probably couldn’t move, or maybe wouldn’t anymore.
One of them had long hair and was of average height and weight. The other was skinny and had a bob cut.
“I was mistaken…”
“About what?”
“It isn’t the woman from yesterday.”
“Is someone there?”
“No.”
Sousei pressed his right palm to the side of the bob-cut woman’s slim neck. It was cold. Probably the same temperature as the room.
There was no pulse, of course.
“They’re dead. There are two dead women in the living room.”
“Neither is the woman from yesterday?” his sister asked calmly.
“No. They’re different.”
He scrutinized their bodies. His sense of unease and hesitation disappeared the moment he’d determined they were corpses.
Is it messed up that I react like this…? I guess it’s a little late to be wondering about that now…
Both of the women had exterior wounds. It looked like they’d been cut with a knife or something similar. There were scars on both sides of their abdomens, extending out from around the bottom of their ribs and continuing down to the area hidden by their underwear. They hadn’t just been cut—they’d also been sewn back up. Their scars hadn’t healed, meaning they were probably new. They’d likely been inflicted post-mortem.
Sousei put his nose near the face of the woman with the bob cut. She smelled of perfume and an acidic chemical smell. Her eyelids appeared to have been sewn open, and when he took a closer look, Sousei noticed her eyes had a strange sheen to them.
“Prosthetic eyes…”
“What’s that?”
“These corpses…appear to have been processed.”
“The woman from yesterday isn’t there, is she?”
“I’ll look for her.”
Sousei pictured the layout of the house in his mind. Did the second floor seem suspicious? Or the bathroom on the first floor? The bathroom would probably be the most convenient place to process corpses. He decided to check the Buddhist altar room adjoining the living room, too, just in case. He’d do that first.
Sousei was about to head there when something made a sound. He held his breath and turned off his flashlight. A noise. What kind of noise was that? He didn’t know, but he’d heard something. It had been faint.
…Above me?
All Sousei could see overhead was the ceiling of the first floor. The second floor was above.
Is someone on the second floor…?
Was it the woman from yesterday? Maybe she wasn’t dead yet, but still alive, restrained upstairs somewhere.
Sousei held the flashlight in his left hand and took his pistol from its holster with his right. He disengaged the safety. The living room door wasn’t closed, and he left the room, treading softly.
There weren’t any other noises after that. Sousei didn’t hear a sound.
He reached the staircase just inside the entrance.
This is kind of…
The stairs were right ahead, but he could barely see five or six steps in front of him.
This feeling I’m getting, it’s not good…
Sousei was unsure about what to do. Should he turn on the flashlight and take a look? Wait a little while to see what happened? Bolt up the stairs?
Hesitation is bad…
He placed his left hand, holding the flashlight, on top of his right, which held the grip of his pistol. Then Sousei slowly began to climb the stairs. They were quite steep, most likely because the building was so old.
When Sousei reached the third step, he heard a sound.
Above…
He went to point his gun straight up, but a flash seared his eyes and a blast echoed around him.