Box of Demons

Chapter 17

After that, Fukumoto was severely reprimanded by his boss.

I remember it happened on the 16th of this month, which is about half a month ago now.

On the one hand, half a month has passed without me realizing it, and on the other hand, I'm surprised that only half a month has passed. It feels like it just happened yesterday, yet it also feels like something from a long time ago. Perhaps it's because this experience was so unrealistic.

The 16th was a Saturday, Fukumoto's day off. He not only stayed up all night but also gave up his holiday pay to help out. He expected to be rewarded, but instead, he received a scolding. Besides the scolding, Fukumoto was also punched twice by his senior. The reason for the punches was probably for meddling in unrelated matters or running around without any contact, Fukumoto thought. So, to this day, Fukumoto still doesn't understand the real reason for the punches. And actually, not understanding the situation is precisely why he was punched, a point Fukumoto still doesn't understand.

Fukumoto recalled.

That day—

The girl standing in front of me was dragged back by her family.

The dimly lit indicator lights in the operating room dimmed, and Kanako Yuzuki, wrapped up like a mummy, emerged from the operating room—

Minami Kinuko and Amamiya—he must be the rumored sidekick of Kinuko—Fukumoto, familiar with entertainment industry gossip, thought—clung tightly to Kanako. A nurse tried to stop him. The mantis-like nurse who had been on the first floor had somehow appeared and ran towards the slightly balding old doctor on the ceiling, whispering something. It was probably about transferring to another hospital, but unfortunately, he couldn't hear clearly, probably because he was too tired. Then Masuoka joined the conversation. Fukumoto only caught snippets of conversation.

"Danger—Irrationality—Humanity—Bone—Blood Transfusion—Kidney—Spleen—"

Opinions did not seem to be in agreement, but the stretcher carrying Jia Caizi was already moving forward with a rattling sound, with IV drips and infusion tubes attached to its nose, mouth and other parts of the vehicle as complimentary items.

Detective Kiba followed. Fukumoto thought, "He's truly admirable." He'd heard from others that Kiba had only happened to be involved in the incident. Logically, he shouldn't have been held responsible for anything. Even if he'd gone back halfway through, no, even if he'd refused to help from the beginning, no one would have had the right to blame him. Fukumoto thought, "He's born to be a policeman." Fukumoto was now dizzy with excitement simply because Minami Kinuko was involved in the case, while his rugged colleague remained unmoved. Perhaps he wasn't interested, or perhaps he didn't even know Minami Kinuko. A true detective, a true policeman, should look up to him.

With that in mind, Fukumoto decided to follow Kiba.

With the nurse's help, the ambulance was already waiting outside. Kanako, her body wrapped in bandages, was quickly lifted into the ambulance by the nurses and paramedics. Only one person could accompany the ambulance, and Amamiya insisted on going with Kanako, refusing to budge, which seemed to bother Kinuko. Fukumoto then volunteered to take Kinuko to the transfer point. He thought, "That's how a police officer should do it."

"So, Mr. Kiba—what do you plan to do?"

"Of course I'll go. I don't want to go back now that things have come to this point. On the way back, could you please give me a ride to Musashi-Koganei?"

After hearing these words, Fukumoto felt even more favorably toward this unfriendly, fierce-looking detective.

Fukumoto himself didn't know why this was the case.

Masuoka asked the nurse for the address of the transfer office. The nurse seemed to want him to ask Kinuko, so Masuoka walked toward Kinuko with a loud clattering sound and asked the same question.

“Each code version enters with clothes and learns to speak.”

Fukumoto couldn't make out what Kinuki had said.

Kinuko sat in the front seat. A faint fragrance, whether from perfume or cosmetics, stimulated Fukumoto's nostrils.

Kiba, meanwhile, sat in the back seat.

"I'm so sorry to have troubled you. That place—the Institute of Clothing Studies—is located near National Route 16."

I still can't understand what the name is. But the situation is urgent, so we should start the car first. It seems that only Kinu knows the location, so Fukumoto's car leads the way, with the ambulance following behind.

The rearview mirror reflected a distorted image of the doctor, nurse, and Masuoka's face as they silently saw him off.

"Is your job okay?"

Kiba asked.

"I'm not on duty today."

"—Oh, I see. I'm so sorry."

"Human life is of paramount importance, and I believe this is my duty."

Fukumoto's mood brightened somewhat, even though it was disrespectful to the victim's family; well, if he didn't say anything, no one would know. Despite still being tense, Fukumoto spun the zither in his hands with remarkable ease.

Once you pass through Yejuro Street, you should be on Line 16. From here on, until Kinuko gives new instructions, just walk straight along the line. The tracks are empty in the early morning, and the cool breeze flowing in through the window is refreshing.

Kinu and Fukumoto remained silent, but Fukumoto had gradually gotten used to this silence, as it had been like this since last night.

I don't know how long I walked.

Homes gradually disappeared, replaced by desolate landscapes such as forests and woodlands.

"Almost there, please turn right onto that road—"

Kinuko spoke in the voice she heard in the movie.

It was a path, an unpaved path.

After continuing forward for a while, the view suddenly opened up, and Fukumoto was so surprised by the sight before him that he couldn't stop smiling.

A truck was parked in the square, and a huge box was in front of it.

"This is it, this is the Modern Medical Research Institute of the National Standard Edition."

"Kinko said. Fukumoto looked slightly disheveled. Under his embarrassment, the sleepiness he had been suppressing finally surfaced. He accidentally loosened his grip on the steering wheel, and the car spun around before coming to an emergency stop.

"Oops."

A loud crash.

While keeping an eye on the box, I accidentally bumped into the cargo platform at the back of the truck.

"Hey, what's going on?!"

Kiba roared.

"There's an ambulance behind us, and there's a patient inside! What if it rear-ends us?"

"I'm sorry, please, are you injured..."

“I am a baptist, please continue.”

"Uh-huh."

Thankfully, the ambulance was unharmed and was about to stop in front of the box-shaped entrance. The box—no, the box-like building's entrance—opened, and a short man in white stepped out. He was a middle-aged man, only slightly larger than a child, with fierce eyes. As soon as the ambulance door opened, the paramedics and Amamiya rushed out. The situation must have been very urgent. As for Amamiya, "rolling out" would be the most apt description.

Kinuko rushed over, while Kiba stood behind her with a terrifying expression. Fukumoto didn't know what to do; there was still something left to do.

He completely forgot his identity as a police officer, focusing only on the truck he had just hit.

A stretcher carrying Kanako was carried out, and a man in a work shirt opened the main entrance of the building to let the injured man in. A large crowd surged toward the entrance as if sucked into a box, and Muji chased after Fukumoto.

Fukumoto discreetly checked the truck's cargo bed. The latches were damaged, slightly dented. Reaching in to touch them, he felt the latches seemed loose, and the arriving jeep also had dents.

What to do? I was in a pretty good mood while driving, but now I can't feel happy at all.

The short man in white closed the main door.

When I came to my senses, I was the only one left outside.

The sky had fully brightened. Perhaps because the surrounding area was full of trees, there was a cacophony of calls from all directions, whether from sparrows or larks—to Fukumoto, who couldn't distinguish bird calls, all birds were the same.

Upon closer inspection—this building is truly peculiar.

The front is a perfect square. Judging from its height, it shouldn't be just one floor high; it should be three, no, four or more floors.

The entrance consists of two large double doors, slightly wider than ordinary doors, totaling approximately 1.7 meters in length. The outer frame is reinforced with metal, and the upper half is fitted with frosted glass. A rain shelter, about 50 centimeters high, sits directly above. Strangely, above the rain shelter is a narrow, groove-like slit, about 30 centimeters wide, extending all the way to the top floor. This slit is fitted with the same frosted glass as the doors, and appears to be fixed in place.

The most striking feature of this building is that, at least from the front, there are absolutely no windows or openings except for this narrow slit.

Near the building, a sign hangs to the right of the main entrance.

"US-Malaysia Version of the Modern Medical Research Institute"

So that's what Juanzi meant.

Fukumoto moved to the side, and the side view was almost square.

In other words, this building is a cube.

There are no windows on the sides at all. There are only a few exhaust fans placed at fixed intervals.

The other side is probably not much different.

Walk to the back. There's a small plaza, like a courtyard, and a large incinerator. Above the incinerator is an unbelievably huge chimney made of bricks. Of course, there are no windows or back doors on the back; it seems the building has only one entrance. It's a perfect cube, like a die.

I didn't notice it when I was facing it, but there's another chimney on the roof.

Neither of them is smoking yet.

What exactly is this building? Can this die really save the girl?

Fukumoto thought there was no point in staying here any longer, so he returned to the main square with a sense of loss.

He'd come to the wrong place. Exhausted from lack of sleep, Fukumoto was too tired to even imagine what was happening inside. Perhaps he should open the door and go in, but for some reason, he didn't want to. The metal and heavy glass door seemed to be resisting the young patrolman's entry, and at the same time, he felt that standing foolishly guarding the entrance like a stupid sentry was more in line with his identity as a police officer.

But no matter how long the guards kept watch, no one came to visit, and no one came out of the box.

Fukumoto was worried about the truck's cargo breaking down. Remaining silent would be a crime; he should notify the owner, but he didn't know whose truck it was. It looked like military equipment resold to civilians, and it was quite old. If that was the case, the locking mechanism might have been broken to begin with.

No, that's impossible.

Fukumoto was certain.

Wooden utility poles stood on both sides of the square, forming a row along the path, with power lines extending from the national highway. In the distance, the power lines traced soft, curved lines, connecting to the bottom of a box. They must be telephone lines.

The telephone—the situation should be reported to the local police station or precinct before it's blocked. But not only near buildings, but even outside the national highway, there's nothing in this area that can function as a telephone.

Even though Fukumoto's thinking ability had plummeted to its lowest point, he was still aware of the somber situation around him. Yet, he was extremely reluctant to open that door.

There should be a nurse on the job, right? Or—

The birdsong stopped. Then, with a flapping sound of wings, all the birds in the forest took flight at once.

Looking up at the sky, smoke was billowing from the chimney.

Suddenly, a loud bang, like the lid of a frying pan in hell being opened, was heard.

Rumble rumble rumble—

What is that sound?

It was very unpleasant.

The box started to shake.

box

"It's been put into the box."

"box?"

When Lai Zi heard the word "box," he immediately thought of the strange man who had come to his house.

That's unreliable; this dog-faced inspector is like a greenhorn.

Both are police officers, but that giant—I think his name is Kiba—is several times more trustworthy. Isn't Kiba here? If it were that fierce-looking man, he could probably save Raiko.

If this continues,