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Chapitre 33

After laying out the quilt at night, the space where the quilt was originally placed becomes empty.

The thought of sleeping there filled me with unease, and I couldn't fall asleep.

In addition, although I don't pay much attention when I'm awake, the space between me and the ceiling is also terrifying when I'm lying down.

It's about to be flattened by the inexplicable air.

It's almost insane.

I've decided to sleep in the closet.

How comfortable it feels to be pressed against someone so closely.

The complete filling of every corner brings an unparalleled sense of fulfillment.

Pay attention to the luggage on the lower level.

There were only three pieces of luggage underneath. As a result, the space directly below was filled with vulgar gaps when I slept.

The place is filled with unease, which will surely creep in soon.

The next day, I bought a suitcase just to fit in the closet. I packed it tightly, leaving no gaps. If there were any gaps, I folded a cloth and stuffed them in. At this point, I noticed that there was nothing in the suitcase.

It was filled with emptiness.

I hurriedly pulled out my suitcase and shoved things in without thinking. I was never satisfied. Gaps always appeared. I spent the whole day trying repeatedly, but still couldn't get a good result. Gaps appeared in the corners.

I decided to put soil in. Late at night, I went to the yard, dug out the soil, and moved it into the room.

Every corner was packed tightly and carefully. Then the other items were put inside. The perfectly filled suitcase was heavy. Just lifting it was a struggle. Putting everything into the closet, completely filling the lower shelf, took two whole days.

I can finally rest assured.

She slipped into the gaps in the upper quilt and fell into a deep sleep, feeling as peaceful as if she were still in the womb.

Suddenly, fear gripped me. There was still a gap. The quilt was sagging; there was no reason to feel safe at all. The thought sent my sense of peace rapidly fading away. This wouldn't do; it wasn't complete.

Unable to sleep until dawn, battling the overwhelming sense of terror, I immediately took a measuring tape to measure the closet's dimensions and went out into the street as soon as it was light.

Go and order custom-made boxes. Fill the closet with tightly packed boxes full of soil, and sleep in them.

That's a great idea.

It will take seven days to complete the box. During this time, I will sit without sleeping.

Happiness visited again after the box was completed.

How blissful!

The following day, I was finally able to return to the workplace with an even greater sense of fulfillment than before.

But after my father's death, there was a two-week gap, and I worked desperately to fill that void.

I feel at ease.

It's wonderful when decisions are actually implemented.

No matter what you do, this is the most important thing.

Practice repeatedly, and try to spend each day without any unnecessary movements or gaps.

Not even a second of useless time should exist.

On the anniversary of my father's death, a telegram was sent.

It's an obituary.

My grandmother passed away, so I decided to return to my hometown immediately.

(The following is omitted)

,

The room was filled with smoke, making it appear hazy.

Kiba got up to open the window, but the frame was slightly crooked and couldn't be opened easily. It wasn't so much a matter of poor construction as it was that the house itself was too old. Every time Kiba opened the window, he thought that the idiom "full of antiquity" perfectly described this house.

The view outside the window was an eyesore: an open space, telephone poles, a bungalow diagonally opposite with clothes drying in the sun, and a low, dark wall.

At night, the croaking of frogs becomes noisy, and recently, the chirping of insects has also been mixed in.

Open the window and the wind blows in. Although the wind will still relentlessly invade through the cracks even if the window is closed, the ventilation isn't necessarily very good. In winter it's cold and in summer it's hot, this is such a terrible room.

Looking out the window, then back inside, a breeze carrying a hint of autumn wind passes through the room, escaping through every crevice, carrying away the stagnant, decaying daily routine that lingers within.

The interior furnishings are more of a killjoy than the view outside the window.

A tea cabinet, a bed that is never put away, a low table, a wall covered in mottled plaster, and a light bulb without a lampshade.

The ashtray beside my pillow was piled high with cigarette butts. When it couldn't hold any more, it collapsed, and the ash and dust seeped into the tadpoles. Perhaps it would be better without an ashtray at all.

I've been smoking too much. My throat doesn't hurt yet, but it feels uncomfortable. No, I haven't spoken for the past two days; my voice might be hoarse.

This is so unhealthy, it makes me want to cry.

After a brief hesitation, Kiba finally decided to lie back down on the bed.

Kiba was originally a diligent person. Even now, if he was too lazy to make his bed, he never neglected to clean or tidy his room. Magazines and news items were neatly categorized and bundled by size, and the tableware in the tea cabinet was always spotlessly clean. However, for the past twenty days, Kiba had not displayed the meticulousness that was rare for a single man in his thirties.

A month of solitary confinement—this was the gift from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department that Kiba received for disobeying orders and acting alone for a week.

If you are not dismissed, resign voluntarily.

That was his original plan. But Kiba ultimately didn't resign, because he already had a reason not to.

We need to find Jia Cai Zi (a type of herb).

We must defeat Yoko's enemies.

These are things that those weaklings couldn't accomplish, but once the lumberyard becomes run by ordinary people, there's really no guarantee they can do it.

To achieve these goals, Kiba still needs the title of detective. The Kiba we know today is Kiba Shutaro, a name that can only be established through his role as a detective.

In other words, without a title, Kiba isn't even Kiba Shutaro. The reason is simple: a box only has value because of its appearance; a box that can't hold its contents and thus exposes itself is a joke. Therefore, Kiba, this box, must be punished to maintain its status as a box.

But now, the box in the wood yard, like the room, is full of gaps—yet its interior is murky and stagnant.

The disciplinary action was announced on September 5th.

Until the day the incident occurred, Kiba had been detained at the Kanagawa headquarters.

The punishment was announced to Kiba personally by his superior, Inspector Oshima, who had come from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, when he brought him back. Inspector Ishii, who was also present, expressed strong dissatisfaction with the punishment, arguing that it was merely a punishment from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department for Kiba's disobedience, not for obstructing the Kanagawa headquarters from performing its duties.

Ishii consistently maintained that Kiba was responsible for the incident. He accused Kiba, as an outsider, of interfering with the prefectural police's actions, causing chaos in command and disrupting the police force's posture; in the end, he even advocated the "Kiba prisoner theory."

Kiba offered no defense, simply listening silently. Seeing Kiba's lack of rebuttal, Ishii stubbornly repeated the same argument. His obstinacy became so extreme that even Oshima couldn't bear it any longer and spoke to him sarcastically.

"Kiba has given you a way out of your defeat. Instead of attacking him, why not use this to express your gratitude, Brother Ishii?"

Jiepu turned to face Muba and spoke in the same tone.

explain:

"Kiba, I should have been even angrier, but after seeing this person, I'm not in the mood to scold you anymore. I won't say anything more, you should go back to sleep."

Upon hearing Oshima's words, Ishii shut his mouth.

Oshima really didn't say anything after that. Kiba had no intention of arguing in the first place, but he was prepared to retort if his superior yelled at him. In the end, he felt like he had missed his target, which also made him lose his fighting spirit.

Nearly three weeks passed like this.

Nothing was accomplished, and they spent all day holed up in this room, so naturally the search couldn't make any progress.

The lumberyard, which insisted on not resigning to maintain the box-like structure, is now gradually losing the box's essence. If it can't do anything, the lumberyard will ultimately just be an empty box, a completely empty box.

When Kanako disappeared—was it magic? Or a spell, or…?

Kiba, smelling the musty odor of the bed, began to recall, searching for that memory that had replayed countless times over the past three weeks.

"Look for yourself! What exactly are you doing!"

That was when Mimasaka roared.

The moment the cabbage disappeared from the bed.

Kiba doubted his eyes and then tortured him.

The police officer's sharp eyes observed everyone present.

Yoko—Yoko, like a celluloid doll, stared slowly at the hospital bed, her face deathly pale, seemingly unable to comprehend what had happened. She slowly raised her chin. Soon, a look of fear appeared on her face. She seemed unable to utter a sound.

Fu Ben let out a cry of "Ah!" as if a balloon had deflated, and his whole body froze.

The officers paced back and forth, unsure of what to do, frantically moving between the cluster of meters resembling tombstones. With officers who had been stationed in the corridors and downstairs also rushing into the room, it was impossible to even determine the exact number of people in the building, let alone maintain order. Moreover, Inspector Ishii, at the top of the command system, stood there speechless, his mouth agape, so it was no wonder the officers below him were bewildered.

Ishii was completely bewildered and lost.

This is understandable, after all, the one who saw the added vegetables in the end was...

It was Ishii himself, and that was only a few minutes before Kanako disappeared. Furthermore, there were only four semi-transparent plastic sheets between him and Kanako, less than a meter and a half (three meters) apart.

As for Lai Zi—Lai Zi's expression was truly incomprehensible.

That expression was the one that best revealed Raiko's true nature among all the expressions I had ever seen on him.

To Kiba, that expression looked like he was happy.

What's even more surprising is that he was genuinely happy, as Kiba later heard from Raiko himself.

At that time, Kiba only thought it was strange.

As for Amamiya.

Amamiya is gone. According to the gatekeeper's testimony, he appears to have brushed past Mimasaka as he left the room.

If only I had noticed Amamiya wasn't there, I should have immediately...

They needed to confirm his location. Kiba regretted it so much he was going crazy every time he thought about it. Kiba was probably the only one at the scene who noticed Amemiya's absence, and there was no further news of Amemiya after that.

The two palaces also disappeared.

However, faced with this situation, the first thing the police officers did was to take an extremely crude action that could hardly be called a search.

Those guys crouched down and crawled around on the floor like they were looking for a puppy. Some of them were even rummaging through trash cans or medicine cabinet drawers—a rather foolish sight. It would be understandable if they were looking for the prisoner's belongings or traces of the crime, but they were all—looking for Kanako.

It's not like I lost my wallet, what can I find by searching like this?

It looked like a bunch of people pulling weeds in a graveyard.