…And that was how Seiji had ended up here.
According to the map app on his phone, the building he was looking up at was his destination.
Is this really the place, though?
It was a terribly old three-story building. Dead vines crawled across its blackened stone exterior, as if trying to hide the cracks.
Although it had to be close to three in the afternoon, the sun was hidden behind an oppressive layer of clouds.
The imposing building, located in a sophisticated, first-class business district in the heart of Tokyo, had clearly escaped destruction during the war. Combined with the black rain clouds that hung overhead, it was like a scene straight out of a horror movie.
A haunted house… Well, yeah, it’s definitely that.
After all, this was the headquarters of the Detective Who Summons Death. On top of that, he was actually the son and heir of Evil God Shinno Akugorou. Faced with someone like that, the denizens of your average haunted house would probably flee without bothering to grab their shoes.
Seiji swallowed hard. He had the nerves of someone about to step into the cage of a ferocious animal. Just hanging back and looking up at the facade was giving him goose bumps and making his pulse race.
When he approached the main entrance, he found a set of glass double doors under an old-fashioned incandescent globe light. He couldn’t see any figures on the other side. He also didn’t see anything resembling an intercom. Granted, even if he had, he wouldn’t have had any idea what to say.
“Please visit Odoro’s detective agency and stay there for as long as you can.”
No matter how he thought about it, that was insane. However, apparently it was the one thing he could do for Shiroshi, and if so…
I can’t waste my time worrying about how it looks.
Cursing silently to himself, Seiji started to take that first step.
But just as he did…
Now then, Seiji, shall we go?
Seiji felt as if he’d heard that voice from half a step ahead, and out of nowhere, his heart constricted. However, no matter how much he blinked, he didn’t see the back of a white kimono.
He was alone.
The depths of his nose stung, and he tipped his head back, looking up to distract himself from the sensation. A drop of rain fell on his cheek, as if the sky had spit on him.
Those clouds had finally begun to cut loose.
“E-excuse me.”
When he hesitantly stepped through the door, he found himself in a narrow hallway. Going forward seemed to be his only option.
There was an old elevator at the end of the hall. It had a brass scissor gate that had been polished until it gleamed, and it was as much of an antique as the building’s exterior.
…This thing still works, right?
He really hoped it wasn’t designed to prank riders by having the cable snap and send them plummeting straight to Hell the moment they stepped inside.
Argh, I’ll risk it. He leaped inside and pressed the “up” arrow. He heard the sound of gears meshing, and then the elevator ascended to the second floor, shaking and rattling ominously.
There was a languid ding, and then…
“Huh?”
The room he found himself in was much larger than he’d expected.
He’d just assumed he’d end up in an elevator hall, but this space was open from the first floor all the way to the third. Each floor seemed to be configured like a loft. Seiji was currently on the second one.
“Wh-what is this place?”
He felt as if he’d been bewitched somehow.
When he looked around curiously, he was startled to see that the entire right-hand wall—which was a full three stories tall—was monopolized by an enormous bookshelf.
The floor was made of lustrous black oak. Close to the elevator, there was a leather upholstered reception set. At the back, there was an area that looked like a study, its rear wall lined with document shelves. A razor-thin laptop sat on an antique executive desk. It looked just like the sort of private detective’s office that showed up in foreign dramas.
“So this is really…”
…the Rindou Detective Agency?
Just then, Seiji heard a series of metallic clangs.
He flinched hard, turning toward the sound. There was an iron spiral staircase on his left, and someone was walking down it from the third floor.
Oh, crud!
Seiji bolted out of the elevator and hastily searched for a place to hide.
“Yes, as I said, even if it is a direct request from the Metropolitan Police Department, I’m refusing it this time,” said a familiar-sounding voice. “A rather difficult individual has placed me under house arrest.”
There was a muffled yell that seemed to come from the speaker of a cell phone. “Huh?! Don’t give me that bull. If we tossed you into a cage at the zoo, you’d pry the damn thing open with one hand; that’s the sort of guy you are.”
“Well, I plan to consider it as a vacation and relax. Just three days ago, I was compelled to accompany you on an all-night stakeout.”
“Don’t you lie to me! You were in dreamland in three seconds flat, eye mask and all!”
Finally, Odoro appeared. He was in shirtsleeves; a suit jacket was draped over the arm that held his flip phone, which he’d put on speaker mode. With his other hand, he was dexterously tightening his tie.
From the fully audible conversation, he seemed to be talking with a detective from the Metropolitan Police.
No, hang on. Did this guy just get out of bed? It’s three in the afternoon.
Seiji recoiled in shock, but he managed to swallow his silent criticism, and then…
“Excuse me. It appears I have a rat problem.”
Odoro’s footsteps stopped.
There was a beep as he ended the call.
“…Sorry to disturb you.”
Reflexively pulling an about-face, Seiji tried to flee back into the elevator, but—
Bam. Dust danced in front of his nose.
Odoro’s kick had stabbed into the wall, blocking Seiji’s retreat. If his aim had been off by just a few centimeters, that foot would have shattered Seiji’s skull.
…Isn’t this greeting a little scarier than necessary?
Shuddering, Seiji stood there petrified, dripping with cold sweat.
“Now, then.” Shutting his flip phone with a snap and putting it in his pocket, Odoro cracked his fingers audibly. “May I ask what brings you to my office?”
“Um… Uh, I was hoping you could let me stay here for a while.”
“I see. Why?”
“I-if there’s anything I can do, like odd jobs, or, um…” He couldn’t bring himself to say, Make me your assistant.
“…Oh-ho?” Odoro’s face was as expressionless as a Noh mask, but one of his eyebrows rose. Then he gave a contemptuous snort. “Searching for a new master already, hm? Changing camps before it’s even clear whether your former owner is alive or dead. What a faithful hound you are. Or so I’d like to say, but…”
Abruptly, he reached out and grabbed Seiji by the throat. His bony fingers constricted around Seiji’s windpipe like a collar, their fingernails biting into his skin. Slowly leaning in so that his face was close to Seiji’s, he spoke in a bone-chilling voice.
“Who put you up to this?”
Seiji didn’t know what he meant. Even if he had, he was in no state to answer.
“I really doubt you’re clever enough to give up on your master. When it comes down to it, you leave everything in the hands of others. That means it’s only natural to assume you’re here on someone else’s suggestion. Am I wrong?”
He’d called it in one. Seiji looked as if his throat had been packed with lead, and he couldn’t suppress a groan at the pain of those fingernails—or rather, at the sharpness of Odoro’s words stabbing into him.
After all, it was just as the man said.
During the three days since Shiroshi’s disappearance, all Seiji had been able to do was wait. He still didn’t really know what he should be doing.
However…
“Even so, I have to do this, no matter what.” Seiji was being entirely genuine about that. In the end, there was only one reason: “Shiroshi believed what I saw, so I figure it’s my job to believe what he thinks. That means right now, this is the only thing I can do…”