“Wh-why…?” Seiji gasped.
“As punishment for her sin. That is why I sent her to Hell,” Shiroshi said simply.
Seiji wanted to tell him that was ridiculous, but the itsuki was right there, hanging from the ceiling. Even so, a primitive fear that was stronger than reason or common sense refused to accept what he was seeing as real.
What in the world was this boy?
“By the way, Seiji, did you know that oni, demons from Hell, sometimes appear in the human world?”
“N-no…”
“Originally, these oni weren’t confined to the underworld but could travel to this world as well. They would load the wicked into a blazing carriage and send them to Great King Enma while they were still alive. At present, however, that aspect of their role is being neglected. The number of oni responsible for tormenting souls is limited, and the ranks of the dead keep growing. And so…” Shiroshi held up one finger. “As a countermeasure, Great King Enma decided to have others take over a portion of the work. In modern terms, we would call this ‘outsourcing.’ And as one of the branch offices, this mansion has a certain charm cast over it.”
He chuckled, his face an even paler white than a Noh hannya mask.
“At twilight, those who harbor secret sins are drawn to this house, unawares. All of them have evaded the law; they may even have managed to hide their crime itself. Here they find me, and it is my job to expose their sins and send them to Hell.”
A memory came back to Seiji.
The day he’d first set foot in this house, when he’d asked about the job, what Shiroshi had said was—
“Th-then you… You’re not telling me your proxy service is—”
“Yes. It’s a proxy service for Hell.” Shiroshi’s voice was flat and firm.
It sounded like a bad joke…but someone had actually died.
“When there are grounds for sympathy, as there were in Satsuki’s case, I make a point of giving the individual an opportunity to atone before handing down my decision. Unfortunately,” he added with a trace of sadness, “they almost never take it.”
“H-how many people have you—?”
“Twenty-two in all. Or rather, twenty-three now, including Satsuki. The ultimate goal is to send one hundred people to Hell, so there’s still a lot of work to be done.”
His wry smile held a rare hint of self-mockery.
“Now then, Seiji, are you familiar with the occult tale Ino Mononoke Roku?”
“N-no.”
“My, my. It’s quite famous, you know. It recounts the strange events experienced by a young sixteen-year-old boy known as Heitarou—a feudal retainer of the domain of Miyoshi, who would later go on to call himself Budayu. Due to the absurd nature of the story, there’s a tendency to assume it is fabricated; however, as a matter of fact, the historical existence of every character who appears in it has been confirmed.”
Heitarou had antagonized the yokai by performing a “trial of courage” on Mount Higuma, and for the next thirty days, he was subjected to attacks from all sorts of monsters. In the end, an individual named Sanmoto Gorouzaemon appeared and introduced himself as the Demon King. Complimenting Heitarou on his courage, the Demon King gave him a wooden mallet as a reward, then left with his retinue of yokai…
“You see, Sanmoto Gorouzaemon is my father. Normally, I use my mother’s last name to conceal my parentage.”
“But no— Then, what? You’re the boss of the yokai?!”
“The boss’s son and heir, yes,” Shiroshi declared with a smile. Although there was nothing in that smile but quiet grace, it both sent chills up Seiji’s spine and gave him heart palpitations.
“More accurately, he’s only one of the figures regarded as the leader. His title may be Demon King, but he can’t really throw his weight around while he’s in equal competition with a rival, so he’s currently doing everything he can to secure the title for himself.” Shiroshi’s smile developed a wry edge, then he looked Seiji full in the face.
“On that note, Seiji, I have a request for you. If possible, I would like to keep you on as my assistant.”
“A-and what if I refuse?”
“You won’t. That I know for a fact.”
Shiroshi laughed as if he’d seen right through Seiji.
His lips were curved in a crescent-moon smile, and though they were as finely molded as a doll’s, they seemed to echo that same hannya mask as before. No matter how beautiful he might appear on the outside, peeling back one layer of skin would reveal the blood-slicked face of a smiling oni.
Seiji wanted to run.
Even as he thought this, the soles of his feet clung to the floor, refusing to budge. It felt like a nightmare. He knew he was dreaming, but he couldn’t wake up.
He only had one option.
An old sailor’s saying goes “Hell is right below the floorboards,” and Seiji truly felt as if a gaping hole had opened up beneath him. The pit there held untold depths of emptiness and despair, as dark as the pupils of the boy’s eyes.
In short, if he didn’t want to go through literal Hell, his only option was to stay with this boy, the king of the demons, and work as his assistant.
But tormenting the dead alongside one of Hell’s demons, watching sinners writhe in agony while he lived in fear of the judgment that would inevitably fall on him as well— Wouldn’t that be a living hell anyway?
“What if, someday, I commit some sort of sin?”
The question was out before he knew he was going to ask it.
Shiroshi cocked his head, looking a little surprised. Then he gave Seiji a smile that reminded him of a white peony blooming out of season and said:
“If you do, a thousand evils will be waiting for you.”
Right at that moment, Seiji felt like he finally understood what the peonies on the boy’s kimono represented.
Not “flowers”— He’s the king of a thousand horrors.
Mystery 1 – The End