The complete main cast are introduced. Of course, the victims and culprit are among them. The structure of the administration building will be important to deducing the solution. Pay close attention.
The complete main cast are introduced.
Of course, the victims and culprit are among them.
The structure of the administration building will be important to deducing the solution.
Pay close attention.
Kazuo went straight to the end of the hall and turned right, carrying the paper bag all the way. There he saw a wooden door. It looked identical to the door at the main entrance and appeared to be a back door. Instead of going that way, Kazuo turned around and entered the dining room. The door was made of cheap-looking plywood with a wood grain pattern printed on. It was the sort of thing you might have seen on a cheap apartment a long time ago, and if an apartment like that still existed today, it would have a hard time finding tenants.
The dining room was quite spacious. A large rectangular table sat in the center. While the ten or so chairs surrounding it were poor quality, the table itself was carved from a single piece of natural wood. It was a level of luxury that seemed extremely out of place between sooty walls under a sooty ceiling. At least the large windows on the walls in front and to the right saved the room from looking dreary.
As instructed, he lit the stove. It was also an old-fashioned oil stove.
The entrance to the kitchen was already open. Kazuo placed the paper bag he was carrying next to the sink and sighed. He found the gas main, turned the valve, put the kettle on the stove, lit it, and sighed again.
What a mess... This was pathetic. A “talent” with no talent, a business trip to a place he'd never heard of for a reason he didn't know, a position where we was abused and exploited by an old man from a completely different company... No matter where he ended up, he probably wouldn't have been happy, but he never expected an environment where he'd be treated like this. The feeling of overwhelming regret rose in his chest once again. Why had he done something like that?
Kazuo remembered the evening before that weekend. He'd been about to go out when he heard the hysterical voice of the assistant manager.
“I've told you so many times, did you double check? Huh? I asked you over and over again, so did you check it properly?”
He opened his mouth, red with rage. Before him, Umehara nodded meekly.
“What are you going to do, huh? How do you plan to take responsibility for this? Are you going to go to the other party's office and say 'oh, sorry, it wasn't 500, it was only 50' and take back the check? Huh? What happened here? How could you make a mistake like this? What's wrong with you? How could you have done all the correct calculations but submitted a total that was off by a whole digit?”
Everyone in the Production Department was blank faced and pretending to be absorbed in work. “Here we go again...” they thought as one as they kept their heads down and waited for the storm to pass. Nobody wanted to get caught up in this.
“I asked you. I did, didn't I? I asked you if you could handle this. And do you remember what you said? You gave a big, stupid grin and told me 'It'll be okay, in fact, it's perfect!' That's what you said. Don't try to pretend you forgot, it's not like you erased your own memory of that conversation, did you?”
The assistant manager continued stubbornly. Umehara's face paled, and he grit his teeth. He was a timid, good-natured junior who Kazuo was quite close to. He was easy-going, but honest, upright, and difficult to dislike.
“Hey, answer me. What are you planning to do? If this were the yakuza, they'd make you take a hell of a lot of responsibility for a slip like this. How are you gonna take responsibility, huh? Are you gonna stand in front of Eishin Seihan's HQ and hack off a finger? Huh?”
Kazuo looked up with a start. He'd realized the real reason Umehara was being bullied like this. If he remembered correctly, Eishin Seihan's estimate was something the assistant manager was supposed to have looked over. And it shouldn't have been possible to cut a payment slip without the assistant manager's approval stamp. It wasn't just Umehara's mistake. The assistant manager, who had signed off on the mistaken form, also bore responsibility. He was trying to keep his own record clean by forcing all the blame on a subordinate. And this wasn't the first time.
“Well? What's it gonna be? Are you going to pay for this loss? Can you do it? Can you pay back the 4.5 million yen you lost? Or are you going to go to the other party and apologize, telling them that our company's employees are total morons? Are you going to shame the company like that? Hey, say something. What's wrong? Where's your usual stupid chatter? Does your mouth not work any more? Say something, you stupid, mouth-breathing idiot!”
When the assistant manager reached out and physically pinched Umehara's lips, Kazuo snapped. Automatically, his body began to move.
The water boiled.
Kazuo sighed for a third time and turned off the gas.
Regret made him feel as disgusting as a sponge that had absorbed raw sewage.
With lazy motions, he opened the paper bag and removed the contents. Three baguettes, eggs, ham, milk, lettuce, and yogurt. And there was a bag of ground coffee beans.
After pouring the water on the grounds, he grabbed a random two cups from the cupboard and immediately filled them with coffee, not stopping to wash them. He couldn't find any sugar, so he decided to serve it black.
He placed the cups on a tray and left the kitchen. He noticed there was another door in the dining room, in addition to the printed wood-pattern one he'd originally come through. This one had a frosted glass window in a wooden frame and was located to the right of the printed pattern door.
As he stepped out through the glass door, he saw another door right in front of him. It bore a plate reading “Game Room” in shoddy handwriting. Wondering what sort of games they played out here, he stepped back into the hallway.
In the parlor, he found Hoshizono and Sagashima talking enthusiastically with each other. He wondered if the two eccentrics had finally found kindred spirits.
“The witness described a glowing orange object that moved sideways in a zigzag pattern. Then, three red lights approached from the northern sky in a clear formation.”
Sagashima was hunched over, looking up at Hoshizono and speaking in whispers.
“I see, one large orange object and three red lights – it matches the testimony of the other witness.”
Hoshizono's response was relaxed.
“Coffee's ready.”
Sagashima's monkey face moved up and down like a turtle's as Kazuo placed the tray on the table. Was that meant to be a thank you?
“Thank you very much.”
Hoshizono spoke in a clear voice and raised one hand in a flashy pose. He was a man who'd take any excuse to show off. Sagashima kept talking without even looking at the coffee.
“Of course, what happened after was the same, too. The red light was absorbed into the orange object, as though they were melting and merging together. I see no choice but to conclude that they were reconnaissance ships and a mothership. The unnatural movement of the red lights is clearly a patrolling activity.”
A dark passion burned in his gloomy eyes.
“How fascinating.”
Hoshizono held up his pinkie finger as he lifted his coffee cup. His legs were lazily crossed one over the other, as though he were posing for a portrait.
“So, we collected the sightings and estimated the arrival and departure locations of the mothership. Heading, speed, altitude, location of witnesses, and estimated length – we used all of that data to make a comprehensive judgment.”
“And did the results show that it was nearby?”
“Yes, very near, but it's hard to conduct field surveys in such a remote area. However, it's because of that that this is the perfect location to construct a base.”
Kazuo quietly left them. They didn't need him, and as long as they were together, they wouldn't get bored. He'd rather go on a tour of the building than stay with those two.
He headed towards the end of the hallway and turned left halfway through. There was a glass door leading out to a balcony. When he looked through, he saw the balcony curved away to the right, surrounding the dining room. It looked like it was cold outside, so he didn't go out, but stood observing the scenery through the glass door.
The sun was about to set. The quiet sky was dyed dark blue, the color about to blend into the snow capped mountains. The shadows of the trees grew darker, creating a beautiful contrast to the complex shading of the mountain's surface and the clear sky stretching out overhead. It had been a long time since he saw a golden sun set behind the clouds.
After standing enjoying the view for a while, he went back to the frosted glass door to the Game Room. When he opened it, the air was cold and musty. What the...? He couldn't help but be stunned. There was nothing but a single billiard table in the center of the room, and a few cues hanging on the wall. There was nothing else. Not even balls. Parts of the tabletop were torn and peeling off. The room was morbid. If you tried playing games here, you'd probably see a zashiki warashi.
He quickly left and went to the back door. Or the right side of the hallway were two sliding doors. The plate of one read “Bathroom”, and the other “Toilet”.
When he opened the back door, predictably, it lead outside. There was about one square meter of flooring before you reached the three steps down to ground level. A sudden rush of cold air came from beneath his feet.
A field of snow spread out before him, turning pale gray in the fading light. A bird let out a loud cry as it returned to the forest. In the snowy field, small lodges stood lined up, sinking into the snowy landscape. It was desolate, but in its own way beautiful.
When he went down the stairs, there was a path where the snow had been shoveled. It was only as wide as a footpath, and it went in a straight diagonal line to the right. It formed a neat parallel line to the row of lodges. Perhaps the people who'd done it wanted to take some small modicum of revenge on their nagging president.
Taking a short walk along the road where the ground had half been dug up, the found the height difference between the snow and the path was about 20 cm. He casually kicked the the side of the path. A lump of grainy snow crumbled down. The snow was hard, probably because it had fallen four days ago.
Why was there so much space between the lodges? It was easily over ten meters. They may have been trying to make effective use of space, but if that were the case, they should have just built more lodges. It was a waste of land, building them so far apart, and moreover, it made them look lonely. He wondered if this, too, was what Iwagishi had called the result of an amateur designer.
As he turned to go back, he noticed a building that wasn't the administration building or a lodge next to the back door. It was a plain building, a bit smaller than one of the lodges, resembling a simple concrete cube. If he looked closely, he could see rows of water faucets on the side. It looked like a campsite kitchen. It wasn't much, looking more like the communal kitchen at a cheap hot spring.
A shoveled path also went under the eaves of the administration building. It went all the way from the back door to the front door. Kazuo followed it.
There was a parking space and another path extending diagonally to the right. There were also five more lodges lined up parallel to the path. He guessed he'd be staying in one of them tonight. It wasn't exactly Soseki's “The Three-Cornered World”, but the atmosphere was pleasant. Who knows? It might be a nice change of pace.
Unable to bear the cold any longer, he returned to the administration building. On the counter on the left, the kokeshi doll sat, looking lonely. A desolate being, left behind to rot. Somehow, he felt he'd found a kindred spirit of his own. He poked it lightly in the head with one finger.
On the door behind the counter was a plate reading “Office”. The handwriting was terrible. The door to the right was the “Owner's Room”.
There was a small door on the opposite wall, so he took a peek there as well. Concrete stairs led down to a dark basement. It was intensely cold and wet and he didn't feel like going down. Was it the generator Zaino had activated earlier that was making that roaring mechanical noise?
As he was looking at the stairs up to the second floor, he heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. It appeared the second group had returned. He had no obligation to greet them, but he was tired of the old man yelling at him, so he decided to go out for the time being.
However, the headlights pointing at him weren't those of Zaino's station wagon, but a small white van, with a boxy shape like a refrigerated truck. Kazuo was amazed a vehicle that size had managed to make it all the way up that rough road. The words “Mt. Tokorozawa Hotel” had been painted on the side of the van with spectacular flair.
“'Ey, bro, you from Yamakanmuri?”
A scowling middle aged man opened the passenger side window and angrily asked him.
“No, I'm not.”
When Kazuo answered, the middle aged man looked horrified.
“Eh, you aren't?”
He turned and yelled at the man in the driver's seat.
“Hey, you got the wrong place! This isn't Yamakanmuri!”
“Dumbass, how can that be!? Where the hell else is there!?”
The man in the driver's seat yelled back. It seemed they were both rather feisty. The young man in the middle seat sat between them as they shouted back and forth.
“'Cause bro here SAYS it's different!”
“Gimme a break, after I drove out all this way... Just ask 'im again, will ya!?”
The man in the driver's seat screamed, and the middle-aged man stuck his head out the window again.
“'Ey, bro, are you SURE you ain't with Yamakanmuri?”
Kazuo flinched. The man was making an intimidating expression.
“No, I'm just-”
He was about to explain, but he hesitated for a moment. He hadn't been treated like a customer in a while.
“Look, he says he's not!”
“Are you kidding me!? It took me two hours to climb this stupid mountain, and now we gotta cancel!?”
“Complainin' to me won't fix anythin'!”
It looked like they were about to start throwing hands, so Kazuo shouted.
“Wait! I'm not an employee of Yamakanmuri, but the people who are are out right now.”
“Wha?”
The middle-aged man glared at Kazuo.
“Jesus, speak up next time, will ya? Yer real slow in the head, ain'tcha, bro?”
“Look, see, it's exactly like I said.”
The man in the driver's seat looked proud of himself.
“Shut up. If you've got time to talk, you've got time to work.”
The middle aged man took off his jersey, revealing a chef's shining white coat. The three men jumped out of the van one after the other and put on chef's hats.
When they opened the van's rear door, its insides were lined with the shining stainless steel of kitchen utensils.
The three people in chef's clothes jumped in as though they were heading to a celebration. They went to work at blinding speed.
So, they were the caterers. Even if they were getting paid, Kazuo felt bad that they'd had to go somewhere like this.
“Quit wasting time and get those on the fire!”
“Shut it, will ya!? Why the hell did we have to come up all the way here in the middle of these stupid mountains? Pass the oil.”
“I told you to quit your whining! It's all that rotten manager's fault for taking the job without the any thought. Here you go.”
“So why didn't you stop him? Here, put this on the table.”
Even as they yelled at each other, their hands moved in a blur. Kazuo couldn't help but laugh. It seemed Iwagishi had decided that since there were celebrities on-site, they needed an on-site restaurant for the catering. They were quite the characters. They'd probably put up with a lot in exchange for the extra fee that came with the long trip.
Kazuo went back into the administration building before they had a chance to yell at him again.
In the parlor, it looked as though the two he'd left behind had run out of things to talk about. Hoshizono was writing something, and Sagashima was reading a thick book. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw horizontal text with lots of dots and protrusions. It looked like German.
With nothing to do, Kazuo sat absentmindedly by the stove until he heard the sound of a car approaching. This time it was actually them. Kazuo stepped back outside.
It was pitch black outside. The headlights of Zaino's station wagon cut through the darkness. The car stopped with its bumper right up against the side of the catering van.
Iwagishi lazily stepped out of the passenger seat and went to the back of the van.
“Oi, if you park there, how are we supposed to get in!?”
They started complaining right away. The middle-aged chef was yelling with an expression of rage on his face. However, his voice was drowned out by the people in the back of the station wagon.
“Wow, it's so cold! We're seriously out in the mountains!”
“Amazing, it's snowing!”
Two beautiful women stepped out. They were still young, both around 20.
“I had no idea there was a place like this up here, it's like a ski resort.”
That was the taller one, her lively voice sending out white breath. She wore a fur coat and tall boots, and her wavy brown hair was deliberately tousled. She looked rather flashy and wore visible makeup.
“But look, there's a little building over there. Hey, hey, that's a lodge, isn't it, Mr. President?”
That sheltered rich girl voice came from a girl with a small build. She was wearing a down parka in pure white that extended all the way down to her knees. She was more cute that beautiful, her long black hair falling loose over her shoulders. She was a bit on the chubby side, and even under that thick parka, the lumps on her chest stuck out.
“Whoa, look! I can see the city lights below! It's so pretty...”
“No way, that's impossible! We're so far away.”
“But it's really cold out here.”
“Hey, Mr. President, it's co~old. Can we come inside?”
The two girls kept speaking unnecessarily loudly. The cold, empty area and the lively young girls didn't go together.
Iwagishi lowered the corners of his eyes and spoke.
“Ah, you must be cold, go ahead on inside. Mr. Hoshizono and Mr. Sagashima are waiting for you.”
With that, he pointed to the entrance of the administration building.
“Uwaa~, it's Mr. Hoshizono!”
The two of them shared a cheer. Then they ran off, giggling and laughing all the way. What was so funny? Sure, they were on a trip, but still, there's such a thing as being too high energy... Anyway, who were those girls? Wasn't Akane Kusabuki supposed to be here?
Right on cue, Akane Kusabuki slowly got out of the car. Kazuo had seen her face several times in magazines. A black pantsuit and a jet black half coat. A distinctive bob cut and a strong willed face with slightly prominent cheekbones. No matter how you looked at her, she didn't appear a day over 30, and was a beauty who could have easily made it in the movies.
When she stepped out onto the snow, she looked dazed. She appeared sleepy and her eyes were unfocused. She languidly stretched her neck and shoulders, cigarette in hand. Her behavior made her look old in a way that didn't fit her actual appearance. But it was a bit imposing in a strangely sexy kinda way.
“Ms. Akane, are you okay? Aren't you cold?”
When Kazuo saw the other person who got out of the car, he gasped. This was also a face he'd seen before. A woman, looking to be in her early 20s. She was even smaller than the petite, chubby girl from earlier, to the point where he wondered if she'd fit in the palm of his hand. She had short hair and small, round eyes. Her tight, glossy cheeks showed no signs of makeup. She didn't have the flashy beauty of the girls who'd come before her, but she exuded grace and refinedness.
It was the girl he'd bumped into at the TV station yesterday. Kazuo's heart was pounding, just like it had back then. She was 100% his type. For some reason, he felt a strong connection.
“Ms. Kusabuki, you must be cold.”
That was when Iwagishi shot over.
“I'm terribly sorry to have dragged you to such an inconvenient place. Well, please step inside. It's still a bit dirty, but we'll take care of your luggage.”
As usual, as Iwagishi stood rubbing his hands, Zaino silently opened the trunk of the car. The petite girl moved lightly, quickly pulling out two large bags.
“Zaino, tell those guys to move their car. We'll have to move them again when they leave.”
Then Iwagishi turned to him and gave another order in the same tone.
“And you, Mr. Hoshizono's assistant, help with the bags.”
“Ah, right.”
Kazuo tried to take one of the girl's bags, but her cute eyes were focused entirely on Akane, and she didn't even notice him. He wondered if she was a relative of Akane Kusabuki or something like that.
Reluctantly, he reached for the attache case in the corner of the trunk...
“That's fine.”
...Only for it to be snatched by Iwagishi.
“Rather than such a small item, please take the bags those girls brought. If you can't do that much, what are you even here for?”
Iwagishi's tone changed as he turned away.
“Well, Ms. Kusabuki, let's go. The stove is on, so it's nice and warm.”
He urged Akane and started walking towards the administration building. Akane followed him absentmindedly, walking with plodding steps. The petite girl hurried after, carrying the two bags. Of course, she completely ignored Kazuo.
So he was a real slavedriver, huh?... Come to think of it, he remembered that Director from the TV station told him something like that yesterday. Did he really look that much like a peon?... Kazuo grumbled to himself as he pulled out a pink Boston bag and a silver ski bag. Zaino expressionlessly slammed the trunk shut without a word.
He stepped inside with the two bags and found the two girls chattering away in the parlor.
“This is so cool, we got to go on a drive with Ms. Kusabuki AND meet Mr. Hoshizono!”
“I feel so lucky.”
“Mr. Hoshizono's so much taller than he looks on TV.”
“I'm so excited, I seriously feel like I'm gonna cry.”
The one who said that was the chubby one in the white down. The taller one was clinging to Hoshizono's arm with sparkling eyes. Hoshizono wasn't the least bit embarrassed.
“On the contrary, I'm the one who's honored to receive the attention of such attractive young ladies,” he said with a sly smile.
“KYAAAAAA~~~!”
Another cheer went out. Sagashima totally ignored the noise and kept his eyes fixed on his book.
Where was the petite girl...? The girl with short hair appeared to have no interest in Hoshizono, and stood behind Akane Kusabuki. Kazuo was a little relieved. The girl was whispering something to Akane, who nodded with sleepy eyes.
“Well, everyone, it's a bit early, but let's eat!” shouted Iwagishi.
“Since we're up in the mountains, there's nothing around, so I asked a hotel restaurant to come to us. Please, enjoy a night in the mountains!”
With that proud declaration, he pointed to the end of the hall.
“The dining room is in the back there. Mr. Sagashima, please take a break from your reading and come over.”
Kazuo had started getting hungry, but he didn't realize it was already after 6:00. He may have been an unpleasant old geezer, but at least he was a proper businessman who made arrangements. Or maybe he'd just wanted more slaves to drive...
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