Dawn broke, and then the next night came. As usual, Seiji and Shiroshi called a taxi and headed for Tokyo Station together. The sun had only just set, but the streets that flowed past outside the windows were dark—or actually, they were white.
It was fog.
According to their smartphone weather apps, a dense fog warning had been issued from the Tohoku region all the way down to Kyushu. What should have been a familiar nightscape was pale and hazy, and only a pane of glass separated them from a different world.
The mist-blurred skyscrapers looked a bit like gravestones, and the lines of cars threading between them crawled as slowly as a procession of the dead. There weren’t many people or cars around, yet somehow they’d gotten stuck in traffic.
When Seiji glanced at the taxi’s digital clock, it was already past five. Would they get to the station in time?
Still, worrying was pretty pointless, so…
“Um, what sort of train is the Blue Magic Lantern?” he asked.
“It’s a cruise train that began operating out of Tokyo Station in January of this year.” Shiroshi’s explanation was so polished that he might as well have been waiting for the question. “It’s the successor to the Hokutosei, Cassiopeia, and the other sleeper trains popularly known as blue trains, due to their typical color. To be specific, I’m told it was manufactured for the second Tokyo Olympics due to the success of the Seven Stars in Kyushu, which JR Kyushu began operating in 2013.”
“And the budget was?”
“Roughly three billion yen.”
“…If you haggled the price down a bit, I think you could buy a country with that.”
Seiji was dumbfounded, and Shiroshi gave a little burst of laughter, covering his mouth with one hand. Not that Seiji had any right to talk, but as always, this kid could stand to be a little less laid-back.
“Still, it’s incredible that he managed to get a train like that,” said Seiji.
“Groups and corporations can charter it for use as a party venue. In addition, it’s easy to put together special schedules during the late-night hours.”
Ah. So apparently, it wasn’t all that hard as long as you let your money do the talking.
“It’s used to entertain important guests, as a sort of luxury cruise ship on land. It really is a high-class hotel on rails. Some criticize it as having outdated aristocratic pretensions, but since one of its models was the Orient Express, that may have been inevitable.”
That name sounded familiar to Seiji.
“There is a world-famous mystery titled Murder on the Orient Express, so no doubt you’ve had plenty of opportunities to run across it.”
According to Shiroshi, the Orient Express—nicknamed the Blue Lady—was created by the venerable Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits in spring 1883 as the world’s first and greatest luxury sleeper train.
Known as one of the social hubs of Europe, the train carried all sorts of upper-class individuals: royalty and nobles, the extremely wealthy, and high-level government officials. And during the Golden Age of Mysteries following the First World War, Agatha Christie, a woman known as the “queen of crime,” released Murder on the Orient Express.
But just hearing the word murder made Seiji feel as though a death flag had been raised. Did that count as an occupational disease at this point?
Abruptly, Shiroshi turned to look out the window. “Ah, it seems we’ve arrived at last.”
The familiar Tokyo Station complex rose up from beyond the veil of mist.
Disembarking from their taxi at the Yaesu Gate, they started toward the station together, pushing through fog that rolled at them in waves. Seiji followed Shiroshi’s back, keeping half a step behind.
The cold seemed to stab into him. The chill was even worse than the weather report had predicted, and when the ticket gate came into view, he gave an involuntary sigh of relief.
“It appears we’ll be in time,” Shiroshi murmured. He was wearing a thick muffler—hand-knit by Beniko—pulled up far enough to cover his chin.
“Um, the information board says there’s a dedicated lounge this way— Oh, over there.”
Seiji stopped in his tracks.
He’d seen a familiar figure in that direction: a very tall man in a black swallowtail coat and white gloves. It was probably the train crew’s uniform, but he looked so at home in it that he could have been a butler.
It was Takamura.
“Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.” Smiling faintly, the man gave an exquisite bow. Then he took a pocket watch from his waistcoat, opening its cover with a light click. “The train will leave shortly, so please make your way to the platform using the direct-access elevator at the back of the lounge. The other six passengers are already on board. Dinner will be served directly after departure. As soon as you have unpacked, repair to the lounge car—”
“Huh? Wait, six…? D-don’t tell me—are we up against all of them?”
“No, I assure you, it will be no different from the usual contests. I’ll explain later,” Takamura said, interrupting Seiji. He held out an envelope. Taking it hastily, Seiji broke the seal, and…
“A key?”
It was a brass, antique-style bit key. A thin cork tag printed with the number 302 hung from a Berlin blue satin ribbon threaded through the hole in its bow.
“That is the key to your compartment. The two of you will be in Room 302. A map of the train has been enclosed; make use of it as needed.”
When Seiji unfolded the paper he’d found in the envelope, it really was a diagram of the train.
There were eight cars in all. The engine was at the front, while an observation car brought up the rear. The lounge and dining cars were in the center of the train, flanked by two cars with two guest rooms each on either side.
Each compartment had a number along with the occupants’ names.
“…Where is Ibara?” Shiroshi asked dubiously. As Seiji saw it, too, he gulped.
He’s right. He’s not there.
The name Ibara Rindou was missing. Don’t tell me he’s passing himself off as somebody else again, Seiji thought, but apparently that wasn’t it.
“Master Ibara is in the observation car at the end of the train. The connecting door will remain locked until the contest is decided; it won’t be possible to enter it from the passenger cars.”
“What?” Seiji said, without meaning to. Hold it. This is a duel. But if the guy we’re dueling won’t even be there, then…
“Your opponent will be the passenger who is Master Ibara’s companion. A proxy, as it were.”
Impossibly, his guess had been right on the money.
“…I see. So he plans to be an idle spectator, as usual.” Shiroshi murmured wryly. Then he gave a resigned sigh. “Are you the proxy, then?”
“No, I am a witness. I will serve as the referee, to ensure that the contest is conducted fairly.”
“Just as you’ve always done?”
“Yes, just as I’ve always done.”
“…How strange. One might think you weren’t my enemy.”
“As far as I am concerned, that has always been the case.”
Takamura smiled; his face was unbelievably gentle. Shiroshi softly bit his lower lip. Immediately, Seiji recalled a line he’d once heard the boy say.
“No one’s harder to read than you, Takamura.”
He’d been right.
“I’ll take my leave, then,” said Takamura. “I pray that fortune favors you.” Then he vanished.