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Volume 3, Chapter 3-B: And Then Who was Gone?

Underground, the Western District. The business district.

The underground business district was occupied by all sorts of shops, from jewelers to butchers.

Not even the previous day’s explosion or the death of the executive could rein back the people’s energy.

The pirate radio broadcast still blared from the speakers, the news about the Western District executive’s death finally replaced by a drama CD.

“I hope he’s a phantom thief.”

“Huh?”

Melding into the lively crowds, Charlotte blurted out a non-sequitur.

“Then I could be the ace detective on his heels. Through our rivalry, our hearts connect… wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“Charlotte… don’t tell me you’re talking about—”

“It’s so very much like a phantom thief to descend from a pile of rubble with a lady in his arms, don’t you agree?”

“…And there goes my sister past the point of no return…” Sherlock mumbled, cradling his head. He breathed a jealous sigh as he looked at the photograph from earlier.

When the siblings handed Yua a photocopy of the picture and asked for her help, she had replied, “I’ll ask my friends”. Afterwards, they had wandered aimlessly and questioned people in the area.

At Sherlock’s suggestion they spoke to the volunteer police about the previous day’s incident, but each and every member refused to discuss the case. They provided no useful information.

As the siblings reached out to others for questioning, they happened to encounter a witness from the previous day and managed to get a decent account of the incident.

The group that had descended the rubble after the man in white was supposedly the Eastern District’s Guard Team, and they had gotten into a fight with the volunteer police before knocking out several of them. It was finally clear why the volunteer police weren’t keen to talk about the case.

“Charlotte. If the crazy gang back then was the Guard Team…”

“…Had Nazuna waited, she could have been treated on the spot by her teammates.” Charlotte finished, though not quite in the way Sherlock wanted to take the conversation. But he did not cut her off.

“…Yeah, since she’s a Guard Team member. Which means—”

“—that Nazuna is a very kind person!”

“Huh?”

“If not for our meddling, she would have been quickly found by her friends. But she wasn’t at all angry with us this morning. She was being considerate of us. Therefore, Nazuna is very kind! Heh heh heh… the right guesses in the right places can easily lead us to a deduction, Sherlock Liverpool. Remember this well.”

‘…That wasn’t even a deduction.’ Thought Sherlock, but his sister’s innocent smile robbed him of his desire to retort.

“Anyway, judging from the circumstances, I think the Guard Team might have been after this character.” He said, violently shaking the photograph. “But Nazuna Yukimura didn’t say anything about him. Why do you think that it?”

“Perhaps she didn’t wish to worry us?”

“…I’m almost jealous of you for answering that way without even thinking. Charlotte, when we go back to the mainland, don’t ever listen to stories about Nigerian princes.”

Imagining his sister obliviously beaming about being repaid by royalty, Sherlock found himself blushing.

‘No. No! No no no no no no! Don’t go there, Sherlock! She’s your own sister!’

Slapping himself, Sherlock quickly returned to the topic at hand.

“Anyway, the Guard Team is chasing down the guy in this picture!”

“So he is a phantom thief!”

“How did you reach that conclusion? What I’m trying to say is, why did he save Nazuna Yukimura of the Guard Team when she’s part of the group hunting him down?”

“Hmm… Maybe he’s in love with her.”

Charlotte’s deduction was actually right on the mark, but Sherlock ignored her and sighed.

“…Oh… The moment we became friends, we also became rivals in love. What do I do, Sherlock Liverpool?!”

“Cool your head.”

Though Sherlock looked nothing but tired, inside he was burning with jealousy toward the man in the photograph.

Until recently, Charlotte’s declarations of love were reserved for celebrities, protagonists of hardboiled mystery fiction, or Little Grey(the protagonist of the Double Beretta movie series). Sherlock had never had the chance to feel this way before.

Though her supposed love was, again, toward a man she barely knew, the problem this time was that he was within an arm’s reach.

With the surge of jealousy, Sherlock also found himself thinking harder about what it was he really felt for Charlotte.

And whether she knew it or not, Charlotte put in more effort than ever toward solving this case.

Finally, about three hours since their investigation began, they found an answer of sorts.

It was in front of Iizuka’s restaurant, when they were questioning people while waiting for Yua, that they encountered a man.

“Hm? …I see. Same line of business here.”

“Pardon?”

The shady man snorted when he saw the photo Sherlock held out.

“Looks like the poor client was on the end of his rope, asking kids like you for help.”

“Oh? Are you a detective as well?”

“An investigator. Private office.”

He was clearly looking down on them.

Sherlock acknowledged the jab, knowing that he and Charlotte barely qualified as detectives. And as for Charlotte, she seemed to be wholly ignorant of the man’s condescension.

But the laughter suddenly drained from the man’s face as he asked a strange question.

“Come to think of it… didn’t you get the warning?”

“Warning?”

“What do you mean?”

The man looked back and forth between the confused siblings. Then something seemed to occur to him.

“Wait… or was that your doing? The voice definitely didn’t sound Japanese… You’re planning to take the reward for yourself, aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Enough playing dumb! I know who you are. You’re that lunatic, Spring-heeled Joplin!”

Sherlock sighed and shook his head at the name. As for Charlotte, she smiled and said exactly what came to mind.

“Hah hah! Please don’t tease us. Spring-heeled Joplin is just an urban legend.”

“Don’t mess with me!” The self-proclaimed investigator cried, nostrils flaring, and grabbed Sherlock by the collar.

“I don’t know where you’re from, but there’s no police around on this island. So lemme tell you what happens when you mess with—”

“Grown-ups?”

“Wha…? Agh!”

Behind the large investigator appeared an even larger figure that grabbed him by the collar and raised him into the air.

“Gah… Urgh…”

The investigator grimaced as the collar of his shirt pressed painfully against his neck. And when the massive newcomer acted the second time, the investigator—who seemed to weigh at least 80 kilograms himself—was thrown backwards like a balloon.

There was a heavy thud against a wall, and the investigator’s moaning stopped.

‘Sōji Kuzuhara?’ Sherlock wondered at the size of the newcomer, but—

“Talk about a hassle.”

It was not Kuzuhara there cracking his neck, but a large man with his hair parted two-thirds of the way.

“All right, then.” Said the man, turning from the investigator to the siblings. “So you’re Charlotte and Sherlock, eh?”

“I don’t know who you’re—”

“Yes, we are.” Charlotte said, cutting off her brother.

“Good. Sorry to bust this on you, but we need you to come with us.”

“Oh…”

They had come out of the frying pan and into the fire. The siblings looked around.

It was then they noticed an unusual girl standing behind the man.

Her eyes were veiled beneath her bangs, and there were what looked to be a pair of baseball bat cases slung behind her.

“We’re very sorry. W-we just wanted to ask you a few questions. …W-would you mind coming to the theme park in the Eastern District with us?”

The siblings tensed.

“Ch-Charlotte.”

“…Don’t worry, Sherlock Liverpool.” Charlotte said encouragingly.

Before they knew it, the siblings were surrounded by a dozen men and women who seemed intent on taking them along.

“…What business do you have with us?” Charlotte said, sounding more grave than usual. The girl with hidden eyes gave an apologetic bow.

“We’re very sorry. …Umm… You know Nazuna Yukimura, yes?”

“…”

“When we asked about a foreign man and woman… they all said it had to be you. …We visited your office, but you were out. So… we were looking for you. You helped Nazuna Yukimura yesterday… right?”

Charlotte threw away all pretenses as the girl spoke nervously.

“Has something happened to her? Hasn’t she gotten back to the Eastern District yet?”

The girl with bangs hung her head and uttered something cruel—for both parties.

“We… we found her not long ago aboveground. …And she was very badly hurt. I… I’m afraid that she’s… she’s currently comatose… and in critical condition.”

As though pitying the siblings tossed along the wheel of fate—or mocking them—

A cat with a radio strapped on its back watched the scene from the shadows of a trash can.

The moment it mewled and began to leave, something like a whispered laugh escaped the radio.

Again, as though pitying—or mocking—the Liverpool siblings.

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Once upon a time, there was an awkward boy and a naive girl.

The murderer boy tried to acknowledge himself,

And the detective girl tried to acknowledge others.

And with their own goals, they begin to dance.

With their feet firmly on this decrepit island stage, nary an audience member in sight.

But there was a director.

He made others dance for his amusement, and when they failed him he denied all their efforts.

That very director was about to raise the curtains.

? ??

“…”

In the deep darkness, where only the light from a monitor shone.

As there was no heating to speak of, the chill of the winter sea sharpened the shadows in the room.

The man gazed upon the monitor’s futile struggle against the darkness and mumbled, disappointed.

“Ah… I warned rainbow-head, but it looks like he’s come back after all.”

“If only he stayed out of this… he wouldn’t end up becoming my plaything on this island.”

Yet the man’s sympathy ran only skin deep.

A vicious smirk encroached upon his face and even his tone took a turn for the erratic, as though he had cast off a mask.

“Heh heh… Ahahahahahahaha! Hahahahahaha! Yes… I knew he’d come back. I was actually looking forward to it. Hah hah… excellent. It’s almost turning out too well.”

He produced an unusual gun from his pocket.

It seemed to be a normal revolver at first glance, but the barrel was blocked with iron—it would explode if someone tried to fire a bullet.

“I should declare war now. Give them a little warning. …Or is it a little late for that?”

Humming to himself, the man twirled the gun in his hand and stared at the man on the monitor.

The screen displayed an image from somewhere on the island. To center left stood a man with seven-colored hair.

So striking was his appearance that he was clearly visible even in the tiny resolution.

Noting the rainbow-haired figure’s presence, the man turned his back to the monitor and began to speak to the darkness.

“My revenge started so long ago.”

He was speaking to no one but himself; a recital to remind himself of everything.

He had to remind himself that the things he’d done and the things he’d do were all completely justified.

But it was different from the way a certain Killer Ghoul talked to himself. This man was leading himself deeper into madness.

“For months and months… or years. Interesting. Heh heh heh heh heh heh… Very interesting! Hahahahahahahahaha! Outrageous! Of course it’s interesting; I’m the one who shaped this play! Heh heh heh heh! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha… hah… hah… hah…”

Keeling over in laughter, the man in the dark raised his right hand high, gun and all, and promptly pulled the trigger as though signaling a marathon.

“Game start… or is it game over?”

At that moment,

“It’s a new game for me…”

There was the distant sound of sparks, followed by tremors.

“And it’s endgame for you, Sōji Kuzuhara!”

The curtains finally rose.

The curtains over the whole island had been opened toward the audience-less sea.

Those of the island were all on the stage.

Those outside had no interest in the island.

And even if they did, the only way for them to observe the stage was by climbing onto it themselves. So the show began without a single audience member, only a twisted director who sat back and let the dominoes fall.

…Yes. There was no audience.

Everyone danced, like it or not, and showcased their true selves. That was all.

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