Asi Hell

Capítulo 41

She is Lai Zi's mother.

—Was this also a coincidence?

A chill ran down my spine.

"What's wrong, Kiba? You look strange. Do you want me to examine you? I'm willing to operate right away."

Are you kidding me? There's no time for that; I have to get to the next scene immediately.

Where to next? To see Yoko, or to see Raiko?

--pass.

Let's go see the pass.

Kiba bid farewell to Satomura indifferently and left Satomura Hospital, his legs naturally leading him towards Nakano.

The mystery seems to be gradually being solved, although it is still shrouded in fog and surrounded by enemies, but clues are beginning to emerge.

—Keep striving.

Kiba sped down the tunnel streets of Kudan, but his harvest was not as great as he had imagined, and his situation was certainly not improving.

But simply by stopping his wild thoughts and taking action, Kiba regained his former self.

—You bastard, just you wait and see.

Kiba let out a sigh of despair.

Dear Mr. Sekiguchi, it's been a long time! How have you been? The evening breeze has been getting cooler lately, making it feel like summer is gradually approaching.

I'm confused.

I heard from the temple that preparations for the single volume are going very smoothly, which makes me really look forward to it.

Enough of the small talk. I have some work I'd like you to review, so I'm sending you a layout copy. I imagine you're very busy; I wonder if you'll have a moment to take a look?

This is the prequel to "The Girl in the Box," a new work by Mr. Shunko Kubo that I introduced to you in the editorial office last time.

To be honest, I don't know how to evaluate this work.

As a mere editor, I have no right to comment on submitted works. However, as someone in charge, this work makes me feel uneasy every day.

I don't know what the merits are. To put it more bluntly, after reading it, I felt an indescribable unease—no, it should be called a sense of disgust. Perhaps this is the power of a famous author, but I really don't know where this feeling came from.

Perhaps this means that the depth of author Shunko Kubo is beyond my comprehension.

Writing too many personal opinions might cause teachers to develop preconceived notions.

The concept of "primacy" will not be discussed further below.

In short, regardless of my opinion, the work will still be published in the next issue of the magazine. I hope to sort out my feelings before then, so I would like to ask you, teacher, for your advice on how to proceed.

I'm so sorry that I made such a presumptuous request while you're so busy.

The seasons are about to change, please take good care of your health.

I sincerely look forward to the publication of the standalone edition.

On September 20th, Koizumi Tama made a pilgrimage on her behalf.

Notes

I overheard you mentioning that you're troubled by the publication order of your works. As the editor in charge of the magazine, please allow me to offer my humble opinion.

I remember that the order in which the teacher's works were completed was different from the order in which they were published in the magazine.

If I remember correctly, "With a Pale Heart," which was published in our magazine last summer, was completed as early as winter, while the previous piece, "The Reincarnation of the Celestial Maiden," was finished much later. Also, when I asked you to write "The Reincarnation of the Celestial Maiden," I recall you mentioning that you had already begun preparations for your next piece, "Dancing Wonderland." At that time, it seemed that the order in which my works were published was adjusted due to page count constraints; this is for your reference.

"The Girl in the Box" Part 1

Junkong Kubo

(The following is omitted)

,

Reijiro Shimokatsu woke up this morning to a more uncomfortable feeling than usual. It was actually past what would normally be considered noon, or even afternoon. But for him, no matter the time, waking up was morning, even if it was what would normally be called evening or late at night. Describing it as a morning of discomfort was perfectly apt.

—It's all Dad's fault.

My father called me yesterday, which is quite rare for him.

Xia Mujin's father was from a prominent former Han Chinese family. Not long ago, he was a viscount.

Since the implementation of the policy of equality among the four classes and the loss of the prestigious prestige of the streets, most of the Chinese community were relegated to the path of skilled trades. This was a natural consequence for a people who had historically neglected learning essential life skills. Ultimately, the Chinese had no choice but to sell their land and property to survive, and their wealth accumulated over a millennium vanished in an instant, disappearing entirely after the war.

But Viscount Natsume is different; he now holds the honorary titles of chairman and director of several affiliated companies and lives a leisurely life.

Xia Mujin, to some extent, admired his father's journey to success.

On the other hand, he also felt that it was just a product of chance.

Natsuki's father was an unparalleled hobbyist. No one except Natsuki himself said he wasn't eccentric. Despite being of noble lineage with ancient roots, he brazenly boasted that his ancestors were pirates, using language so peculiar it was hard to believe it came from a normal person with common sense. And all these extraordinary traits beyond those of the Bone Armor Man were completely inherited by Natsuki.

Both father and son were of a race that did not need to be headed by a head.

Whether he likes it or not, the father still has to shoulder the social responsibility of being the head of the Chinese community and the head of related businesses.

In comparison, the son truly had nothing.

The only thing that comes to mind when referring to Natsuki is the word "detective".

As a descendant of Chinese, this kind of work seems ridiculous, but it feels much more appropriate than being an office worker or a fishmonger.

—This is so troublesome.

It was really troublesome, so his father dumped the "byproducts" of his own title onto Natsume to solve. If it were trouble caused by Natsume's own problems, that would be fine, but asking Natsume to solve other people's problems, even his father's, was something he was extremely unwilling to do.

—I should have just refused.

However, Xia Mujin, who still respected his father to some extent, also possessed a sliver of common sense. Influenced by these two factors, he found it difficult to refuse his father's request. With an ambiguous attitude, he was ultimately forced to accept.

The father's voice sounded very cheerful.

He launched into a long, uncommon seasonal greeting, recounting how he'd fallen off his bicycle on the embankment the day before to catch crickets. Xia Mujin thought, such talk was fine coming from a child, but it certainly didn't sound like the anecdote of a man over sixty, a man of extraordinary status and reputation. He shared these thoughts with his father, who laughed heartily. When the laughter had subsided, his father suddenly said:

"Speaking of which, Reijiro, are you still doing that low-class profession?"

The so-called "low-class" profession, of course, refers to detective work. Natsume answered honestly, and his father, unusually pleased, exclaimed repeatedly, "Good, good, that's good!" He then continued:

"I know a guy named Shibata. I'm not really interested in him myself, but the people at the company don't seem to think so. They say he's been kind to us, making it sound like he's something special. Shibata's subordinates have heard rumors about you from somewhere. They want you to help them with that detective thing: you know, help them investigate. Anyway, you're some kind of weirdo, but I don't know the details. Those guys at the company keep nagging me, begging me to ask you for help. It's so annoying that I had to say: if my stupid son's shady business can actually help, I'll talk to him about it. So, now that I've said it, it'll be a real headache if you don't help."

If it was a headache, Natsumi felt that she was the one who should be thinking. Having no opportunity to ask questions or refute, Natsumi seized the moment after her father finished speaking...

Instant comment:

"That guy named Shibata, he must be a big shot, right?"

The speaker didn't explicitly define what kind of person this "important figure" was, but conveying the maximum amount of meaning in such a short time was already the best he could manage. As expected, there was a significant difference in values between father and son.

"What's so great about him? He's just a silk thread shop owner, no, I think he's more like a chairman?"

The Shibata my father mentioned was probably Shibata Yohiro, the founder of Shibata Silk Manufacturing, the founder of the Shibata zaibatsu (financial conglomerate), and a famous figure in biographies of self-made tycoons. If I'm not mistaken, he could be considered one of the behind-the-scenes manipulators in the financial world. From a conventional perspective, Shibata was someone of a higher status than my father. But regardless of whether he was a legitimate or illegitimate figure, in my father's eyes, he was just a nouveau riche old man who made a fortune selling silk thread. My father was never arrogant or conceited. But he never cared about the identity or background of others; this was one of the things that made my father so remarkable.

"Very great, that person was truly great."

"No way. He's just a guy who makes a fortune selling silk threads. He can't fly or shed his skin, so what's so great about him? He is just really rich, though. It's okay if you try to get more of his money as your reward. His messenger will be here tomorrow afternoon. Don't go out."

After that, I can't remember anything clearly.

Natsuki felt a heavy heart. The problem lay in what the other party's understanding of detectives was.

It would be terrible if he thought detectives were only responsible for investigating.

A detective is someone who uncovers secrets, not someone who conducts investigations or statistics, much less someone who uses pointless reasoning to preach to others.

For Natsuki, being a detective is one of the few professions that makes good use of his ridiculous physical attributes.

Natsume can see things that others cannot.

Why he could see Tanuki Tsu himself was also unknown.

I'm not interested in knowing anyway.

If you truthfully describe what you've seen, others will usually feel uncomfortable.

Some people believe that what he saw was a soul.

Some people say that he saw the inner world of others.

Some people say that what he saw was memory.

For Natsume, it didn't matter what it was.

Sometimes it's a human face, sometimes a landscape scene, sometimes the shapes are blurry, sometimes they overlap like multiple exposures in a photograph, and sometimes they are as clear as if Natsuki had seen it with his own eyes.

Just like seasickness, it makes you feel very uncomfortable.

If Xia Mujin hadn't been twice as smart as others and had a high learning ability, he probably wouldn't even be able to live a normal life.

If one could simply believe that what one sees are the ghosts of ancestors, and that one is a one-in-a-million medium, and plunge headlong into that world, how easy would that be? But Natsumi couldn't do it, and he also disliked terms like "superpowers," feeling that surrendering oneself to naive and unreliable modern science seemed somewhat superficial. Because this was neither a matter of spiritual realm related to ghosts, nor an external issue like science.

Intelligent, but also undisciplined, and forced to tolerate contradictions in order to achieve order. Natsumi has lived with these problems to this day.

They often stumble upon other people's secrets by chance.

Therefore, Natsukizu is a detective.

The last thing I want is to be misunderstood.

Reluctantly, Natsume pulled out a farm uniform from the small mountain of clothes piled in the corner and draped it over his shoulders. Making a basic impression was important, but just getting by was enough. Wearing the clothes, Natsume looked like a bartender. So he found a bow tie and put it on.

That makes him a full-fledged bartender.

He muttered this to himself as he left the room. He found it a little ridiculous, but his mood improved slightly.

Opening the door, the next room was the agency. Behind the screen, he saw Anwa Torakichi. A young man with a sour expression was reading a newspaper; he lived there as a detective's assistant, responsible for handling matters around Kikizu.

"Oh, you're finally out. Sir, you look like a waiter today."

I really wish he could be described as a bartender.

Natsuki silently took his seat. The large table was empty except for a triangular sign that read "Detective." His intention was to flaunt his only title, but it only made him a frequent target of ridicule.

"When will the guest arrive? I heard he's a very famous person?"

"He was an envoy from a very famous person. So he probably isn't that famous."