Hanashima

➤1999: The Untamed Monster

The torrential rain began at dawn.

It stopped in the evening, but the air remained thick with moisture.

Hiding along a deserted road at night, the untamed monster quietly bided its time.

It was waiting for its prey, a girl who walked home alone along this road every night.

If the deed was done in minutes, there was little chance of witnesses, unless the monster was extremely unlucky.

On a whim, it looked up at the night sky—clear, as if the day of pouring rain had been an illusion. The full moon shone down from a black void.

The monster was afflicted with moonlight syndrome.

Twisted by the ailment, the beast was driven wild by unquenchable desire. It doesn't care what you call it.

On this night of the full moon, the monster was compelled to claim the girl as its own.

It had been lying in wait for an hour when she finally appeared.

This girl—it had been yearning for her day after day.

As usual, she was alone. There was no sign of anyone else on the long mountain road.

At last, her alluring body, clothed in a sailor school uniform, passed right by.

The monster leapt from the shadow of the trees and attacked her from behind.

Her reaction was a simple yelp of surprise, as if she'd mistaken the monster for an insect or small animal.

That was her last chance to cry for help. By the time she realized she was being attacked by someone—something—the monster's hands were already around her neck.

The last sounds the girl made were faint whimpers.

Long after she had gone limp, the monster did not loosen its grip, suspecting she might be pretending. For a few minutes more, it held on, then finally removed its hands from her slender neck. She collapsed lifelessly to the damp asphalt.

Turning her elegant body face-up, the monster grabbed her wrist—no pulse. It slid its hand under her blouse and pressed its palm against her sweaty skin. It waited one minute, then two. But her heart was no longer beating.

Beneath the moonlight, it heard the cry of something beautiful being born.

Yes. At last, the time had come.

Retrieving its sacred tools from the shadows, the monster began preparing for the ritual.

It felt no anxiety, despite this being its first time. There had been countless rehearsals in its twisted fantasies.

Everything went smoothly. It performed the sacred ritual with the utmost love, silently and perfectly.

Now, at long last, the girl belonged fully to the monster—only to it. Filled with joy, the monster tenderly kissed her and, with a dazed smile, made its way home.

The terrible night turned to dawn.

The first thing the girl felt upon waking was the dazzling sunlight. Instinctively shielding her face with her hands, she slowly opened her eyes and unsteadily got up. Before her was the narrow mountain path she always took to school.

What an awful nightmare—no, a nightmare would have been better. This was no dream. It was the horrifying reality of her pain, her fear, her despair. And finally, her death.

The terror of it all still lingered in her chest. But then, why was she still here?

In the light of dawn, the girl looked down at her own lifeless body lying at her feet and screamed.

➤2016: Kyoya Hyodo

A prefecture in northern Kanto region. The sixth floor of an office building just outside of downtown Inga.

This was the office of Imagine Crown Entertainment, a mid-sized IT company specializing in software development.

There's something I want to talk to you about. Are you free tonight?

Kyoya Hyodo stared at his computer screen for a solid fifteen minutes, struggling to find the perfect, poetic words worthy of a once-in-a-lifetime decision. Eventually, he decided to keep it simple and hit send.

His message would have immediately landed in the inbox of Miyuki Karasuya, his colleague sitting two desks away across the aisle.

Communicating this way was rather tedious, but office romances were forbidden. So despite their physical proximity, he needed to be discrete.

But he didn't really mind. In fact, he got a strange thrill using the office computer instead of his smartphone to contact her.

I hope this evening's guest of honor is well.

As he awaited his lover's reply, Kyoya quietly opened his desk drawer.

After carefully checking to make sure that the desks on either side were unoccupied, he pulled out a small box and opened the lid.

The vivid blue sapphire glittered with an eternal brilliance.

He looked at the engagement ring, which had cost him three months' salary, and struggled to keep himself from smiling.

Conversations like this should happen face-to-face, not through long messages on screens.

Perhaps he would do it in a restaurant—nothing too expensive, but with a first-class ambiance. Or maybe under the romantic solitude of the streetlights at night. He just needed to calmly show her the ring and say the magic words.

Will you marry me?

He and Miyuki had been dating for almost three and a half years now.

He had confessed his feelings for her on a whim during a company trip to a Hokkaido ski resort.

Kyoya would never forget the feeling of holding her close on the freezing ski slopes.

His computer dinged, and the inbox icon flashed.

He hurried to moved his mouse and click on it.

I'm free! Let's have dinner. There’s this cool new place that just opened up. I hear the food's really good, so I've been thinking of going there with you. I'm on a diet, so I can't eat much, but . . .

A cool restaurant with good food! Perfect.

Kyoya glanced over at Miyuki. She smiled and waved discreetly so their coworkers wouldn't notice. The sapphire ring would look beautiful on those fingers, Kyoya thought.

Miyuki's figure was toned, her limbs graceful and slender. She definitely didn’t need to diet.

At that moment, Kyoya was the happiest he had ever been. He clicked the reply button to set up their meeting time, no longer able to hide his grin.

First, they would have to visit her parents, then decide when and where to hold the wedding. For the honeymoon, perhaps back to Hokkaido? It was a bit cliché, but they had so many memories there.

Considering his soon-to-be wife's hobbies—dancing and piano—they would need a spacious living room and soundproofing for their home. Even if it meant a hefty mortgage, they would have to buy a house.

Then, they would have to think of names for their children . . . Well, it was still a bit early to be thinking about that.

Kyoya’s dreams stretched on to the distant, yet certain happiness awaiting them.

Tonight was sure to be one of the best nights of their lives, a brilliant first step toward a bright future.

But unfortunately, none of Kyoya’s dreams would come true.

The next morning, Miyuki Karasuya's body was discovered in a sandbox at a park near her home.

➤Harumi Sanada

Harumi had always suffered from a peculiar illness.

Poorly fitted sliding paper doors that don't close properly—those are scary.

And the vague darkness that spreads out under the bed.

Even the peephole in the front door . . .

Harumi was dreadfully afraid of what she called the "boundaries between things."

She wasn't claustrophobic or afraid of the dark—fully enclosed spaces or complete darkness didn’t bother her at all. In fact, she quite liked them. Whenever she was upset or distressed, hiding in a dark closet calmed her down.

But even the slightest crack, the moment a boundary with the other side appeared, Harumi was overwhelmed by indescribable fear.

If you had to give it a name, it was a boundary phobia.

Doors, gates, windows—they didn't scare her when they were fully open or completely closed, but the slightest gap between here and there made her unbearably afraid.

Whenever she saw such things, she had to either throw them open or shut them up immediately.

What she truly feared was no mystery. In fact, it was quite clear to her.

Harumi was terrified that something might come through those cracks from the other side.

She had no specific image of what the something would be, like a ghost or creature. But every time she saw a boundary between things, Harumi feared some creepy, twisted, distorted entity might slither into the room.

She was even afraid of the edges of her futon quilt. At night, she had to cover her body from head to toe, convinced that the something would grab any part of her that might be exposed.

And the peephole in the door—perhaps the something was watching her from the other side.

She had tried telling her friends about this, but they made fun of her for being such a childish high schooler. They teased her for having a vivid imagination. She decided it was best not to talk about it with anyone.

She didn’t know what caused her condition. Maybe she once saw the something behind the sliding doors at her grandmother’s house out in the country, or maybe she heard it behind a shrine at a summer festival.

For as long as she could remember, Harumi Sanada had been terrified of boundaries that separated this world from the other. And then came the summer before she turned sixteen.

▲

The morning skies were clear—not a cloud in sight.

Harumi woke to her alarm at exactly seven in the morning, watched the news as she ate a toasted sandwich her mother had made for her, took a shower, changed into her school uniform, saw her father off to work, clipped her favorite silver barrette into her hair, and left the house.

Good morning, Harumi!

As she passed by her favorite cafe, she turned to the cheerful voice behind her.

On the other side of the pedestrian crossing was a familiar face.

Harumi usually met up with her classmate, Aki Terasawa, around here during her commute.

Good morning, Aki.

Her friend's glossy black hair, tied in twin braids, bounced like droopy dog ears as she jogged across the pedestrian crossing.

Phew. It's been so hot lately, hasn't it?

Aki had always been frail and low on stamina. Even the short jog put her slightly out of breath.

Really hot. That's why you shouldn't run around so early in the morning.

Harumi always thought that Aki acted like a lost puppy that had finally found its owner.

Of course, she never actually said that out loud. They had been best friends since elementary school, and Harumi didn't want to upset her.

Once Aki, who was a head shorter than Harumi, caught up, they started walking again.

Hey, Aki, did you do your classical literature homework? It's your row's turn to say the answers today. Also, we have tennis in fifth period gym, so make sure you drink enough water during lunch. You're not good at sports, and I don't want you passing out from dehydration.

Harumi pointed out several things Aki should watch out for during the course of the school day.

Harumi was taller than the average high school girl, while Aki was quite petite. Side by side like this, they hardly looked like classmates. Given their visible differences and opposite personalities, Harumi often felt protective of her friend.

Don't make fun of me! I know about classical lit and gym.

Oh, really? My apologies.

As Aki pouted, Harumi bowed politely.

Of course, neither of them truly took offense. After ten years of friendship, they understood each other well.

All right, let's go.

Yeah, okay.

Alongside her cheerful little childhood friend, Harumi strode through the sunny streets of Inga.

There was still plenty of time before the school day started at Inga High.

▲

Hey, Harumi, did you watch Crazy Laughs yesterday?

They had finished checking today's homework and discussing the field trip, so the conversation shifted to simpler chatter. Aki started with the comedy show they watched every week.

Of course! That last skit about the Wright brothers in the hospital was hilarious.

Harumi thought back on the funniest skit from last night's episode.

Unlike the lively Aki, who was friendly with everyone, Harumi was one of the quiet ones in class. But that didn't mean she was depressing—in fact, she loved comedy.

Right? Especially when he was like, "Director, why are you a pharaoh?!" That was so funny! Dad and I laughed so hard, we couldn't breathe.

Wait, your dad watches those kinds of shows?

Aki was still giggling as she remembered the skit.

Only when he's home, but yeah, we usually watch it together. Haven't I told you that?

No, never. Totally not the image I had of him.

Harumi had met Aki's father a few times. He seemed serious—straightforward. It was hard to imagine him rolling around on the floor laughing at a comedy skit.

I always pictured your dad as the you-should-only-watch-the-news-on-TV type.

He seemed like a serious and intellectual man—the opposite of her own father, who cried over TV dramas despite his age.

Hmm . . . Well, he's mostly like that.

Aki nodded.

But when it comes to dramas or variety shows, he enjoys them just fine. He just doesn't switch the channel to them himself. Maybe he thinks it's inappropriate for a public servant like him to indulge in entertainment.

Being a detective must be tough.

Harumi sighed with a mix of admiration and sympathy.

Aki's father, Yasunori Terasawa, was a prefectural police detective who had worked his way up from the field.

He was either a police captain or commissioner—either way, quite a high position for someone in his mid-forties. And despite his rank, he was still a down-to-earth guy.

Not all detectives are like that, you know. My dad's just a hardcore Goody Two-shoes.

Aki tried to joke about it.

For him, it's work, work, and more work! His top priority is always investigating, solving cases as fast as possible. No jokes, no tears, no anger, nothing sad at home. He's just clumsy at living.

She mocked him, but mostly to hide her embarrassment. Harumi knew how much Aki adored her awkward father.

That's why I force him to watch stuff other than the news. It helps him relieve stress from work. Plus, ever since mom and Maki left, the house has been too quiet.

. . . Ah, right.

Harumi averted her gaze and pursed her lips.

Aki’s mother and younger sister, Maki, had moved to Aki's grandparents’ house in the neighboring town about a year and a half ago. Earlier this year, Aki had said her parents hadn’t legally divorced yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Harumi considered it impolite to pry into someone's family matters, so she didn't press for details.

But she did know that the reason for the separation seemed to be the fact that Aki's father was too focused on his job. He barely paid attention to his family.

Come on, Harumi, don’t make that face.

Aki smiled gently, no more pretense or bravado on her baby face.

It's not really a big deal. Even if they get divorced, Mom and Maki are just in the next town over. It wouldn’t even take an hour to go see them. And we’ll always be family.

While it might have seemed like a delicate issue to others, Aki was pretty optimistic about her family’s situation.

Right. Speaking of his workaholic ways . . .

Aki sighed.

This morning, I was in the middle of making his favorite meat omelet for breakfast, and he had to rush out because of some big case. It was 6:30 in the morning!

Really? That sucks . . .

Harumi once again struggled to respond, feeling a new kind of awkwardness.

That’s kind of mean. I mean, you were making him breakfast at 6:30 . . .

She wasn't particularly proud of it, but Harumi had never cooked anything more complicated than instant noodles, except in the required cooking classes at school.

She had no boyfriend or real desire to get married. But she had decided that if she ever did get married, she’d leave the cooking to her partner.

Aki wasn't such a staunch advocate of microwave supremacy or the recent advances in frozen food technology. She could whip up a meat omelet at 6:30 in the morning.

What an incredible display of femininity. It was far beyond Harumi’s comprehension.

She suddenly felt embarrassed about the way she mothered her friend.

Thanks to that, my meals today are an omelet for breakfast and the scrambled eggs I’d made earlier for lunch. All that cholesterol! How many eggs am I even eating?! Everyone’s going to start thinking I'm in cahoots with the egg industry. Don’t you think that's terrible, Harumi?

Um, I guess . . .

Harumi looked off into the distance.

But maybe he had no choice. He is a police officer, after all. The safety of the town has to come first. And you said he had a big case?

Harumi grasped for a way to steer the conversation away from cooking.

What happened? An accident? A hijacking?

Uh . . . well . . . um . . .

Harumi’s question, thrown out to casually nudge the conversation elsewhere, wiped the smile off of Aki’s face.

With a troubled expression and arms crossed, she fell silent.

It obviously wasn’t that she didn’t know—she just wasn't sure whether it was okay to talk about it.

Oh, right. That kind of thing could be considered a leak, couldn’t it? Sorry.

Harumi felt bad, realizing her mistake. Aki looked up at her.

Yeah, well, I shouldn't really say anything . . . But then, it’ll probably be all over the news by tonight anyway.

Her twin braids swayed softly.

She wanted to talk about it.

But she knew it would lead to trouble. Harumi saw Aki as a puppy again, this time desperately wanting a treat, but being endlessly told to wait.

Okay, Harumi . . . But until it’s on the news, you can't tell anyone.

I won't. I promise.

In truth, Harumi wasn't particularly interested in the details of the case.

She just enjoyed the thrill of sharing a secret with her best friend.

So she nodded casually, and Aki, furrowing her brow, told her what she knew.

Well . . . it was a murder—a dismemberment—right here in our town.

➤Yasunori Terasawa

Ryugamine Park, the outskirts of Inga, early morning. Summer, but not the hottest part of the day yet.

Normally, this was a place where the elderly relaxed and people walked their dogs, but now the park was completely cordoned off by police tape.

This is terrible.

Yasunori Terasawa frowned down at the blood-soaked corpse lying in the sandbox.

He had rushed to the scene before his daughter, Aki, had even finished making breakfast.

A detective for over twenty years, he certainly wasn’t new to murder investigations, but he had never seen a corpse like this.

Miyuki Karasuya. Twenty-eight years old. Assistant manager of sales at Imagine Crown Entertainment.

Next to Terasawa, the forensic officer spoke calmly while he compared the victim's face to a driver's license and business card found in a bag beside the body.

It's definitely her. But this is horrific. I’ve seen plenty of corpses, but never a dismembered one like this.

Looking back at the victim’s mutilated body, Terasawa nodded.

Karasuya's arms and legs were completely severed.

Her head and torso had been left behind, discarded in the park’s sandbox in a gruesome, pitiful state.

Your deputy fainted as soon as he arrived on scene.

Ah, Tokita. I heard. He seems tough, but he's extremely faint-hearted.

With a quiet sigh, he looked over the victim again.

Death by blood loss?

Probably not. There’s not enough blood. She was dismembered after being killed. The direct cause of death is . . . likely this.

The forensic officer calmly reached down to place a finger on the victim’s neck. Reluctantly, Terasawa peered closer. There, clearly visible, was a deep purple bruise.

Strangulation?

Yes, she was strangled to death and then dismembered sometime after. Although, for the victim, the order probably didn’t matter much.

What did they use?

Something with an exceptionally sharp blade. A professional meat cleaver or something similar. Ordinary knives wouldn’t make such clean cuts.

The forensic officer made a chopping gesture with his hand.

So far, no severed limbs had been found around the site.

Terasawa looked at the victim’s face once more.

Her expression was a mask of overwhelming hatred, despair, and agony.

He felt he might be sick.

Maybe it was a good thing that he had skipped breakfast after getting the call. His beloved daughter’s delicious cooking might have ended up right here in the sandbox.

Turning away from the body, Terasawa surveyed the area. Curious onlookers were already gathering around the park.

The first to discover the body was an elderly morning jogger. She had managed to call the police, but was so mentally disturbed by the sight that she had ended up in the hospital, unable to provide much useful information.

I feel bad for the deceased, but at this point, the cause of death doesn’t really matter.

The forensic officer grimaced.

So, detective, what’s your take on the perp and motive? Robbery?

He turned his own back on the gruesome corpse and focused his attention on Terasawa.

Not robbery. Her wallet still had a decent amount of cash, and they didn't take her cards.

The forensic officer nodded.

That alone isn't decisive, but it certainly makes it seem like this wasn't about money. Maybe it was a violent crime that escalated, or perhaps someone wanted to silence her?

The forensic officer's cold tone caused Terasawa to furrow his brow.

It was a shame that the victim was such a young woman, but every line of thinking had to be considered.

I don’t think so.

Terasawa shook his head.

Her clothes aren't in disarray. It doesn't seem like she was sexually assaulted.

Right. Her wallet and cards weren’t stolen, and you're saying assault is unlikely. So what’s the motive? What kind of person does this?

It’s obvious if you take one look at this mess.

What?

The forensic officer looked at him in surprise.

Obvious? What do you mean?

Think about it. The victim was strangled, then had her limbs removed, and the head and torso were left at the scene.

Terasawa spoke matter-of-factly.

Usually, there are only two reasons to dismember a body: you want to dispose of it, or you want to conceal the identity.

Well . . . that’s true . . .

The forensic officer, head low and arms crossed, digested Terasawa’s words.

Disposing of the body would hide the fact that a crime had occurred. The perpetrator might cut it up and throw it in the trash, or dump it in the mountains or the sea.

They could conceal the identity of the murdered victim by hiding the head or fingerprints.

But . . .

The forensic officer looked up at Terasawa.

But, Terasawa, in this case . . .

That’s right. This perp is different. They left the body at the scene and didn’t hide the victim's identity. Neither of those goals were accomplished. They didn’t even try.

Terasawa spoke with confidence in his assessment.

They just cut off the hands and feet and left the crucial head and torso in the sandbox at the park. They had no intention of hiding their crime or the victim’s identity from the start. This perp never intended to achieve the usual objectives of a dismemberment. In other words, there’s only one answer.

Which is?

Simple: They’re not normal.

Terasawa spoke quietly, staring into his colleague’s face.

That's for sure.

The forensic officer shrugged.

Killing someone and then dismembering the body isn't normal. They’re human scum.

Hey, don’t get it wrong. They’re human scum the moment they kill someone.

Terasawa gave the man a piercing cold gaze.

One person intentionally killing another is an unforgivable act, no matter the circumstances.

As always, upstanding words from an upstanding detective.

There was a hint of sarcasm in the forensic officer’s voice.

But anyone can have a moment of weakness. Even you must have at least one or two people you hate.

Of course, I do. But hate and murderous intent are different. Humans are not monkeys. No matter what happens, we must resolve our differences through rational discussion. That is what makes us human.

I should've guessed that you'd have such a fine view of human nature. But can you really say that hatred can never become intent to kill?

A dry smile spread across the forensic officer’s face.

What would you do, Terasawa, if some punk posing as a nightclub host played with your beloved daughters and then dumped them? Wouldn't you want him dead?

What?

The mention of his daughters made Terasawa hesitate.

If something like that happened, yes . . . I’d be furious.

Even Terasawa, accomplished and respected by everyone on the scene, weakened at the mention of his family.

He had been separated from his wife Akiko for nearly two years.

She'd taken their middle school daughter, Maki, with her to her parents in the next town over. Now, he only lived with their high school daughter, Aki, but he still deeply loved them both.

If my daughters were tricked by some worthless scum just for the fun of it . . .

I wouldn’t just let it go.

Terasawa answered honestly.

But I wouldn’t resort to violence. I’d scold both the jerk and my daughters and be done with it. Besides, my daughters know better than to fall for someone like that in the first place.

I’m speaking hypothetically. You’re still the same doting father as ever, huh?

The forensic officer frowned and clicked his tongue.

I’m not a doting father. If I really were, I wouldn’t have let my wife leave and made my children sad.

Terasawa spat out the words, but not without a hint of self-disgust.

▲

An hour later, with most of the crime scene investigation finished, the forensic officer left.

Detective Terasawa.

As the victim's body was carried away, Terasawa turned to face his deputy, Hideomi Tokita.

Why Tokita, I thought you went to the hospital with the woman who discovered the body.

I-I'm sorry . . .

At Terasawa's sarcastic tone, Tokita scratched his thick eyebrows with his rugged, callused hands, looking apologetic.

You look like a wild beast, but your heart is made of glass. Quite the adorable detective. Kids must love you.

Please, boss, give me a break.

Tokita stood a head taller than Terasawa and had a face like a demon, but now he scrunched up his features and whined.

He looked more like a yakuza member than a detective. His tough appearance and muscular physique came from his mastery of judo, kendo, and karate. Yet he'd fainted upon seeing the victim's body.

Terasawa knew Tokita to be reliable and intelligent. His trusted deputy's only flaw seemed to be extreme cowardice.

His colleagues had carried Tokita off so he wouldn't get in the way of the investigation. A bit of rest in a police vehicle seemed to have helped him recover.

Beside Tokita was another man, someone Terasawa didn't know.

Who's this?

When I contacted the company on the victim's business card, he answered the phone. He came to confirm if the deceased was indeed his coworker, and . . .

He hesitated and glanced sideways at the man somberly.

Well . . . It seems he was romantically involved with her.

A lover, huh?

Feeling a sense of unease, Terasawa faced the man.

I'm Kyoya Hyodo.

The man introduced himself in a low voice, his expression vacant and his complexion pale.

I'm Detective Yasunori Terasawa, from the first investigative division. I can only imagine what you're going through.

As he showed his police badge and introduced himself, Terasawa bowed his head sincerely.

Mr. Hyodo, I realize these are distressing circumstances, but there are a few things I need to ask you about Ms. Karasuya. Could I have a moment of your time?

. . . Yes . . .

Kyoya Hyodo nodded. He sounded exhausted.

Terasawa sighed. In his experience, people close to the victim either wailed inconsolably in their grief or lost their emotional outlet and became numb. It seemed Hyodo fell into the latter category.

It took more time for that type to recover.

I'll get straight to the point. From the condition of the body, it's clear she was murdered. This wasn't an accident or a suicide. Had she been involved in any personal conflicts recently? Perhaps someone disliked her, or she was involved in an argument?

No, not at all.

Hyodo answered immediately, his voice flat and emotionless.

Terasawa couldn't seem to stop himself from looking the man straight in the eyes.

Those eyes were slightly out of focus.

I see.

This was bad. The man was losing his sanity.

Then had you noticed anything unusual about Ms. Karasuya recently? Perhaps she seemed anxious, or maybe she was being harassed by someone, possibly a stalker?

No, that's impossible.

Again, he answered promptly.

I see. Then, if I may, was everything all right between you two? I apologize for asking such a question at a time like this, but it's necessary for the investigation.

It's alright. I understand why you'd suspect me. After all, besides her family, I was probably the closest person to her. I was even supposed to see her last night.

Could you tell me more about that?

Miyuki and I were going on a date. We were supposed to meet at a place that just opened a few months ago—Entropy, just off the main street near the station . . . but she didn't show up. I called her cell a bunch of times, but she didn't answer. We'd just made plans that afternoon, so I was sure she didn't forget. I waited nearly two hours, then I figured something must have come up. So I went back to my apartment.

There was nothing particularly suspicious about his story. Terasawa nodded.

Even if things had been going well until last night, and some trivial matter had suddenly led to an argument where Hyodo had killed her in a fit of rage, there would still be no reason for him to dismember her.

Terasawa asked a few other questions about the victim, but failed to gain any leads on strange behavior or suspicious individuals from Hyodo's account.

Thank you. That will be all for today. If there's anything else I need to ask, I'll be in touch—

Detective . . .

Hyodo raised his face to interrupt Terasawa, staring straight at him.

I was . . . actually planning to propose to her last night.

Terasawa gasped.

Somehow, Hyodo was smiling faintly.

I did everything right, spent three months' salary on a ring, a beautiful sapphire ring. And then this happened. Why? Why did this have to happen?

Terasawa had no answer, and Hyodo likely knew no answer would come.

If you find out who did this, I want to know immediately.

His expression, the unsettling glint in his eyes, was far from normal.

Here's my cell phone number. Call me and I'll come, no matter where you are.

Terasawa reluctantly accepted the man's business card. There might be things he'd want to ask directly later on.

Mr. Hyodo, if you're thinking of taking revenge on the culprit, I would advise you to stop entertaining such thoughts.

He pocketed the business card.

The person who killed Ms. Karasuya is the worst kind of human. We don't have to investigate to know that. But no matter how unforgivable the crime, it's not up to us to judge one another. We will find whoever did this, and they will be judged by the law. Your personal revenge wouldn't make Ms. Karasuya happy.

It was cliché, but this was Terasawa's heartfelt sentiment—not just as a detective, but as a human being.

If he were murdered, he'd certainly want the police to catch the culprit. He'd never want his loved ones to avenge him.

Yes, you're right.

Hyodo nodded absentmindedly, but Terasawa couldn't tell if the words had reached him.

I would never think of revenge. I leave everything in your hands, Detective. So please, find the person who did this to Miyuki.

Bowing again, he walked past Terasawa with unsteady steps.

Please don't think of doing anything foolish.

Terasawa felt a sense of apprehension as he watched the man walk away like a pale ghost.