Box of Demons

Chapter 19

Kiba couldn't understand it.

"The chaos in the administration isn't because I'm here, but because your leadership skills are so poor. So many officers are here, just standing there all day. Even a fool would get bored. Besides, what if something happened? With things like this, nothing will actually happen. This exaggerated state of security prevents any incidents that would otherwise occur. I think Kanagawa Headquarters is just incredibly idle. To protect a little girl, especially one completely wrapped in casts and unable to move, they've deployed an entire squadron. In a situation where even a stone thrown at you could hit an officer, what kind of leadership is this? Don't make me laugh!"

Note: This refers to the Treaty of San Francisco. It was signed in San Francisco in September 1951 by Japan and the victorious powers of World War II. It was formally established on April 28th of the following year.

The number of police officers here is indeed unusual. Initially, Mokuba thought only two or three officers would be assigned to guard the area on rotation, and worried that they might not be enough, which is why he came here. However, the number has increased day by day, and now there are thirty officers deployed inside and outside the building, leaving Mokuba no room to help. But after three consecutive days, he couldn't back down, and almost a week has passed in the blink of an eye.

Seeing Kiba's continued arrogant attitude, the neurotic inspector finally snapped.

"Kiba, what do you mean by saying these rude things again and again? There's no such thing as complete preparedness in security! Unlike murder cases, we're protecting living people. If something goes wrong, it'll be too late. Preventing crime requires even more care than dealing with crimes that have already occurred! It's not the same as the work of a barbaric murder detective like you who arrests anyone he sees!"

The inspector's words lacked rationality; they were purely impulsive. The more excited the other party became, the calmer Kiba became. And in these moments, Kiba would always inadvertently utter a few unnecessary words.

"Then let me ask you, even if the target was an ordinary little girl, would you be this wary?"

"Ordinary—what do you mean!"

"What I want to ask is, if Yuzuki Kanako were just an ordinary daughter from a poor family, would you still protect her so closely?"

The police inspector was speechless for a moment.

That's right, because Kanako Yuzuki isn't an ordinary girl. So if Kanako were really kidnapped as the warning letter suggested—it would be a huge embarrassment for the police. Kanagawa, no, probably all the police in Japan would lose face.

Kiba learned of this the day after the kidnapping notice was delivered. He didn't know how the news reached his superiors, but it was clear that they were under immense pressure, which was probably why security had been increased, Kiba thought.

It's said that Kanako is a direct descendant of a financial tycoon who owns a significant portion of Japan's wealth. The word "supposedly" is used because Kiba is, after all, an outsider; the prefectural police hadn't informed him of the details. But after receiving this information, Kiba finally understood the significance of that night's conversation. That annoying guy named Masuoka is probably a lawyer. In other words, he and Kanako's guardian, Yoko, were likely discussing the distribution of her estate that night.

My position values a correct understanding of reality, rather than predicting with expectations.

Insulting me is the same as insulting my client.

—If Kanako dies first, this matter doesn't count.

Die first? What exactly does "die first" mean?

In short, the fact that this is being discussed suggests that even though Kanako is a direct descendant, she doesn't have a legitimate right to inherit. Perhaps she's the daughter of a concubine, or perhaps she wasn't registered as a legitimate daughter in the family register for other reasons. Given this, she must be quite a nuisance to those who claim legitimate inheritance rights. But strangely, her older sister Yoko seems to have no right to inherit. Yoko and Kanako look very alike, and there's no doubt they're related by blood; perhaps they're half-sisters.

Aren't you happy?

That's right, if Kanako were to die, some people would definitely be happy.

If Yoko's words are true—that person must be Masuoka's employer.

Therefore, the mastermind behind Kanako's kidnapping plan must be one of the members of this group.

But if these are all true, it creates a contradiction. According to Kiba's deduction, this exaggerated and foolish security posture must be a request from some big shot, whether it's the Public Security Bureau, the Director-General, or the Headquarters, it's a direct request to the higher-ups, which is why there is such tight security.

But if Masuoka's employer is that important figure, wouldn't that be a contradiction? It's unbelievable that the mastermind behind the kidnapping would demand increased security.

Kiba has been hitting a roadblock in his reasoning these past few days, always thinking about this point.

Kiba has never been involved in matters of inheritance, so he doesn't really know the actual situation. He only knows that when it comes to large sums of money, all sorts of people will come out, and the financial world is a den of monsters and demons. These people all have their own ulterior motives, so it's not surprising that they might do things that Kiba never expected.

Kiba remained silent for a moment, pondering these questions.

Meanwhile, the inspector, his voice trembling slightly, suppressed his anger as he awaited Kiba's response. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he dramatically waved his right hand and shouted, "Hey, Kiba! Did you even hear what I said?!"

Upon hearing this, Kiba couldn't help but feel pity for the useless man in front of him.

The inspector seemed to sense the pity in his gaze and quickly put on an authoritative air.

"In short, Kiba, some customers have come looking for you. I'm begging you, please go and send them home. Of course, it would be best if you left with them too!"

"guest?"

Who is it? Judging from what the inspector just said, it's definitely not someone from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. But—no one else should know that Kiba is here, no—

Kiba recalled the commotion from last night.

—Kanguchi knows.

I told him to shut up repeatedly, but he still blurted it out.

The inspector, clutching his trouser pockets like a child enduring bullying, spoke again in a hysterical, shrill voice: "Yes, I don't know why, but they specifically requested your presence. He claims to be a patrol officer from the Koganei Police Station, and he's with a girl. In short, he's already causing us trouble. Instead of wasting time slandering me, you should go see them!"

As soon as Kiba came out, he saw Fukumoto standing next to the telephone pole.

“Detective Kiba! Yes, it’s me, Fukumoto.”

It still had that blank, expressionless face. Kiba vaguely remembered what had happened half a month ago.

"What's wrong? Don't you have to work? Or are you not working today?"

"No, I'm here on official business today."

"Official business?"

"Uh, perhaps it shouldn't be called official business, right. Little Sister Lai, can you explain?"

It turned out that the girl next to me was Nanamoto Yoriko, but she was hiding behind a telephone pole and couldn't be seen clearly.

Kiba was greatly shaken by the unexpected visitor.

For some reason, my heart started pounding the moment I saw Lai Zixiu's beautiful face.

"What happened?! What's going on?"

Before Lai Zi could speak, Fukumoto loudly interrupted and answered first.

"She remembered what happened that night; it was an attempted murder!"

"What did you say!"

"Kanako was pushed down by a man in black."

After Lai Zi finished speaking, he looked into Kiba's eyes.

Kiba turned his head to the side.

"Speaking of which, is this tight security—to protect Kanako? Wow, that's impressive, it's like they're protecting a big shot."

Fukumoto looked around constantly like a tourist, and spoke as usual, without thinking. Kiba thought, "This is the worst thing about this guy." Then his gaze returned to Raiko, meeting her gaze which was fixed on him. Kiba's gaze seemed to be bounced away, immediately jumping elsewhere.

"Where's Jia Cai Zi? What happened to Jia Cai Zi? Is she still alive?"

Lai Zi questioned Mu Chang bluntly, and Mu Chang, just like that night, stammered.

"I think he should still be alive."

"should?"

This time, I asked Fukumoto.

"I've only seen the girl's face two or three times in the past two weeks, and I've always declined to meet her."

"Can she speak now?"

"Who knows? I've never heard her speak, but—she seems to still be conscious."

Kiba originally wanted to say, "Besides, I can't meet her openly and honestly because of my own position," but then he decided against it.

Whether Lai Zi felt relieved or uneasy, he wore an indescribable expression.

"Anyway—tell me the details."

Kiba invited the two of them into the box.

The door to the box—the American version of the Modern Medical Research Institute—was far more sturdy and heavy than it appeared, likely custom-made. It wasn't made of aluminum but of steel, with densely packed steel wires embedded in the glass. It was so thick and heavy that even a car crashing into it probably wouldn't break it. It was practically armored a tank.

No, not just the gate, the entire building was incredibly sturdy. This went beyond mere defense or security; it projected an image of absolute impenetrability. It resembled a fortified fortress more than a research institute. Indeed, its shape screamed bunker, a defensive position. In such a peaceful and relaxed era, what exactly did this box intend to block? What was it protecting?

Kiba had this question in his mind when he first came in, but as the heavy door closed, Kiba seemed to have figured something out.

Kiba himself didn't know what he had figured out—perhaps it was just a fantasy caused by lack of sleep and the fatigue of being constantly busy—but after figuring it out, Kiba seemed to have regained a sense of stability and vitality.

Kiba tried to think it over, and finally came up with the reason that the box was already full. The box named Kiba Shutaro was now full.

And what filled this emptiness was probably Yoko Yuzuki.

Kiba thought to himself, "I'm like a box, so isn't I just like this wondrous and sturdy building, existing to protect something?" Unbeknownst to him, the emptiness inside had been filled with Yoko's presence. When the box was no longer empty, it gained a reason for existence. In other words, Kiba had now become the box protecting Yoko from external enemies.

As for what the enemy is, it's still unclear. But the only one who can protect Yoko from this unknown enemy is probably himself. That's the real reason he came here—Kiba had this misconception.

For Kiba, who had lost sight of what was right and wrong, who was the enemy and who was the ally, this illusion offered him salvation. Since drawing a line between good and evil, friend and foe, within the bounds of law and ethics was difficult, but failing to do so would cause immense suffering, he had no choice but to decide that line himself.

Anything that is detrimental to Yoko is an enemy, or evil—this is probably the principle Kiba has come to understand. Even though the true nature of the enemy is still unclear, for Kiba, the mere existence of the enemy is enough. That's why he has once again felt a long-lost sense of security and vitality.

However, Kiba himself did not realize that this feeling was what is generally called romantic love.

The fortress only allows outside intrusion for the instant the gate is opened; the moment it closes, a completely independent microcosm is formed. The space is filled with deep, quiet bass lines and pale artificial light; the air is heavy, tense, and constantly vibrating. In this space, where not a single ray of natural light can penetrate, everything is bathed in fluorescent light, losing its reality like scenes from a movie. Inside the fortress—within the box—is a sub-world truly isolated from the outside world.

Kiba felt that even his own voice was being deconstructed and reassembled, like a telecommunications signal, becoming a loudspeaker-like sound—yes, like a telephone call. Of course, Kiba knew this was because he had been here for so long, and his mind had become sluggish from the constant, low, mechanical sound.

The internal situation is no less abnormal than the external one, exhibiting the same level of anomalies.

Upon opening the door, one is greeted by a straight corridor roughly the same width as the doorway. The floor, walls, and ceiling are all made of cement, devoid of any decoration, resembling a tunnel.

A row of fluorescent lights was embedded in the ceiling, and there were doors on the left and right walls that also appeared to be made of iron—three on the left and two on the right. There wasn't a single window on the doors; they were as rough and sturdy as the doors of an armory.

There was another iron door at the end of the corridor. It wasn't an exit to the outside world, but the entrance to a huge elevator. Kanako, who was lying on the stretcher, was sucked straight into that elevator.

Kiba thought to himself that the first floor must be a power room or something similar, as he had seen similar fuel being moved into it several times this week. He figured the mechanical noise he'd been hearing since taking Kanako in was definitely coming from a room on the first floor, or from down below—though he wasn't sure if there was a basement. And this low, heavy sound was undoubtedly the same kind of sound he'd heard from the power room on the transport ship when she was sent to the battlefield during wartime.

What's placed in the room is definitely a machine like a generator.

The corridor turns right at the elevator entrance.

At the end of the corner is a sky-high space that goes straight to the third floor, where a spiral staircase made of iron is set up.

That day, because they didn't have time to take the elevator, Kiba and Yoko went up from there.

Kiba led Fukumoto, who was looking around with curiosity, and Raiko, who stood motionless with unease and fear in her eyes—just like that day—up the steps.

The rooms on the second floor are configured exactly the same as those on the first floor.

The only differences from the first floor are that the two doors near the stairs are made of wood, and there is a long, narrow window running vertically on the wall on the side of the entrance—the front of the building.

Kiba opened the wooden door near the steps.

There is another corridor inside.

There are four doors in the corridor, all ordinary wooden doors. There is one in the center of the left wall, two at equal intervals on the right, and one at the end of the corridor. The room at the end of the corridor is a toilet and small bathroom. Surprisingly, such a large building only has a toilet in this one room, so it is always crowded after the number of police officers was increased, since there are more than thirty police officers.

In the end, the Kanagawa headquarters decided to install temporary toilets. Kiba would burst out laughing every time he saw it. He couldn't figure out if they were there to prevent crime, or just for the sake of being there. Besides, would crime really occur in a place with so many police officers that temporary toilets were necessary? But on the other hand, perhaps the installation of toilets also indicated that the area had the capability to deter crime.

But it always feels ridiculous, utterly laughable, because it's putting the cart before the horse.

It's not just the makeshift toilets that are ridiculous; the absurdity of the building's cubicles goes even further.