Chapter 12
The Metropolitan Police Department building. A sacred place.
In Beika Town, where high-rise buildings were repeatedly built, bombed, and rebuilt, the police headquarters stood strong, an inviolable landmark in the hearts of the citizens.
It ranked alongside the Port Mafia’s five towers in Yokohama as a must-visit pilgrimage site for social media influencers. Not charging an entrance fee was a great loss for the Beika municipal government.
“Police business! No visitors!”
Inspector Megure shooed away a group of obvious tourists, only to spot a familiar face in the crowd.
“Miss Fan An.”
Inspector Megure called out to her with practiced ease. “Are you here to turn yourself in?”
“Just a moment, I’ll have someone bring your dedicated police report file and teacup.”
Fan An had been in Beika for less than a week, all things considered, yet she already enjoyed VVVIP treatment at the police station, complete with her own exclusive file, teacup, and interrogation room. Can other suspects do that? .jpg
“Inspector Megure, that’s a stereotype,” the dark-haired girl pointed out sharply. “Can’t I come to the police station in a capacity other than ‘suspect’?”
Inspector Megure: “Uh, accomplice?”
“Associate? Thug? Robber?”
Fan An: “…”
“Why aren’t ‘victim’ and ‘detective’ options?” she demanded. “Where did Beika Town’s fair ‘pick one of three’ rule go?”
Don’t you dare try to fool an out-of-towner. I’ve done my homework.
“Today, I’m the one reporting a crime,” Fan An declared, her head held high, her voice that of a victim. “I’m here to file a report.”
Although none of her property had been lost, the broken lock and the signs of a struggle inside her apartment were proof enough that a burglar had broken in.
To walk into the police station as a victim instead of a suspect was a rare, heaven-sent opportunity. How could she miss it? An’an was going to wash away the police’s stereotype of her in one fell swoop and clear her name.
She had left Mentor Scotch at home to watch the house. An’an had instructed him carefully: “Criminal psychology tells us that criminals often return to the scene of their crime.”
She had ordered Hiromitsu Morofushi: “First, you wait for the rabbit to run into the tree stump. Then, you catch the turtle in the jar. After that, you cry ‘thief!’ while being the thief, break up the happy couple, deliver the fatal blow, and then display the head as a warning. Finally, you destroy the evidence, change your identity, and escape—you must teach that despicable home invader a lesson he’ll never forget!”
Hiromitsu Morofushi had reluctantly agreed.
An’an said she would report the crime, and so she did. Inspector Megure took her statement as per procedure.
“Suspect An (crossed out) Victim An reports that a thug broke into her home to commit burglary. Suspect An (crossed out again) Victim An avoided the perpetrator by not being home last night. There are multiple signs of a struggle in the apartment. This case requires further investigation…”
Inspector Megure was scribbling away when hurried footsteps approached from outside.
Officer Takagi ran over, leaned down, and whispered something in Inspector Megure’s ear.
An’an couldn’t hear the police officers’ whispers. She watched Inspector Megure write the report like a foreman, vowing to strangle the words “Suspect An” in their crib.
“Miss Fan An, did you just say you weren’t home last night?” Inspector Megure’s pen stopped for some reason. He asked with a serious tone.
The girl nodded honestly, her eyes still glued to the report, piously awaiting the fresh delivery of her life’s first victim statement.
“Second question,” Inspector Megure continued, “did you act in Director Matsuzaka’s new work, ‘The Evil Spirit in the Pitch Black,’ and play the role of the murderous evil spirit?”
“I did,” An’an replied, not understanding why he was asking.
“Thank you for your cooperation. You’re an honest person,” Inspector Megure said, praising An’an while taking his pen and striking out every instance of “Victim An” on the report.
Meeting the girl’s shocked gaze, he started a new line and, with a flourish of his pen, wrote:
“Suspect An has confessed to her crimes. In consideration of her voluntarily turning herself in at the police station, her good attitude in confessing, and her cooperation with the police, I, Megure Juzo, humbly request that the prosecutor’s office consider a reduced sentence. I hope she will actively reform through labor and turn over a new leaf.”
Inspector Megure looked at Fan An with great sorrow and patted her shoulder. “This too shall pass.”
Sunlight streamed through the police station window, illuminating the side of her face. The dark-haired, dark-eyed girl’s eyes were filled with bewilderment.
Her crimson lips were slightly dry from a sleepless night, and a few unruly strands of hair fell beside her ear.
When Amuro Tooru arrived at the police station, this was the scene that greeted him.
“Please wait, Inspector Megure.”
The blond young man stopped them. He stood in front of An’an, shielding her behind him. “I’m Miss Fan An’s neighbor. I can provide her with an alibi for last night.”
Inspector Megure: “What?”
Fan An: “What?”
The suspect herself was more shocked than the police. I ran around to twenty-seven crime scenes last night. My footprints are all over Beika Town. The only thing I have is proof of being present.
“Can someone please tell me what on earth happened last night?” An’an was completely lost.
She had just gone out for a part-time job. How had she become so disconnected from the world?
Amuro Tooru seemed to sense the girl’s confusion and whispered a reminder, “Look at the front page of today’s Beika Town news.”
An’an did as he said and took out her phone.
[Insufficient funds. Service suspended.]
The dark-haired girl looked up, her ink-black eyes a picture of innocence.
Amuro Tooru: “…”
He sighed and handed her his own phone.
The screen displayed a massive headline. The media, in its attempt to grab eyeballs, had used sensationalist language:
<Twenty-Four Crew Members Brutally Murdered Overnight! The Work of an Evil Spirit or a Human Tragedy?>
[A serial murder case of extreme viciousness occurred in our city today, with the death toll reaching twenty-four.
Shockingly, all twenty-four victims were members of the crew for Director Matsuzaka’s new work, “The Evil Spirit in the Pitch Black.”
“The Evil Spirit in the Pitch Black” is a horror-thriller film. It tells the story of a group of people who go exploring in an abandoned distillery, only to unfortunately disturb the evil spirit that resides there. In the darkness, the evil spirit kills them one by one in a cruel and bloody manner, with no one surviving in the end.
Director Matsuzaka had stated in an interview before his death that the essence of a horror film is to strip the audience of hope. In the ending, the male and female leads would not escape to safety; everyone would be killed by the evil spirit, without exception.
Director Matsuzaka, who had said these words, died late last night. His throat was slit with a sharp object, and he bled to death.
At the scene of Director Matsuzaka’s death, his computer screen was still playing the original cut of “The Evil Spirit in the Pitch Black.”
The other twenty-three crew members also did not escape death. But what is even more stunning is what comes next:
When reporters were compiling the cast and crew list, they discovered that there was, in fact, one survivor.
The sole survivor is none other than the actress who played the “Evil Spirit,” a Miss An!
Think about it, everyone. Just think about it!]
Miss An: “…”
“So, it wasn’t a burglary last night. Someone was trying to kill me, right?” The girl sucked in a sharp breath.
Unfortunately for the killer, she couldn’t wait even one night and had insisted on going out for a part-time job, causing the assassin to find no one home and return empty-handed.
An’an’s deduction was mostly correct. The undercover Public Security officer just wanted to add one small detail: Vodka did not return empty-handed.
He brought back a bruised and battered body, along with the hot new distillery rumor, “Shocking! Vodka has fallen out of favor with Gin!” How could that not be considered a bountiful harvest?
Amuro Tooru had rushed to the police station specifically to get her out. Since he knew the culprits were Gin and Vodka, he certainly couldn’t let his poor neighbor be wrongfully imprisoned.
Their neighborly relationship was the perfect cover for Amuro to fabricate an alibi for her.
“An’an really wasn’t home last night,” the blond young man said, switching to a more intimate form of address for the girl.
“Because she was in my room last night.”
Inspector Megure: “Huh?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking, Inspector,” Amuro said, realizing his statement was ambiguous, and quickly explained:
“‘The Evil Spirit in the Pitch Black’ was the first film she ever acted in. Coincidentally, I’m also very interested in the horror-thriller genre. When An’an heard about it, she invited me to watch it with her.”
“Unfortunately, her part was only at the beginning. As we watched on, we both got sleepy.”
He gave an embarrassed smile. “I probably should have sent her home first… Thankfully, by a strange twist of fate, she avoided disaster.”
It was a reasonable explanation. The signs of a forced entry on her apartment door were still there, proving that the killer hadn’t spared Fan An’s life; she had been on the verge of becoming the twenty-fifth victim.
Inspector Megure raised a point of doubt. “She invited you to watch the film, so why was it at your place?”
A good question. Amuro didn’t need to lie. He would counter Inspector Megure with cold, hard facts.
“Her TV service was suspended for non-payment.”
Amuro delivered the finishing blow, concise and deadly.
There are only three things in the world that cannot be hidden: a cough, love, and poverty. Inspector Megure and Officer Takagi’s faces showed that they were convinced.
“Excuse me, I have to take this call.”
Inspector Megure took out his suddenly ringing phone. “Hello, this is Megure Juzo. What? We’ve received a notice from above that this case is being handed over to the Public Security Bureau? Okay, I understand.”
After a series of setbacks, Fan An finally got her wish. She signed and fingerprinted a police report as “Victim An,” not “Suspect An.”
Amuro Tooru stood by, waiting for her. He watched, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on his face, as the girl held the report up high, like Rafiki presenting Simba.
Is she really that happy?
Although, if he put himself in her shoes, he could kind of understand. It was actually a little cute.
“Thank you for today, Mr. Amuro.”
The benefit of being neighbors was that they were definitely heading in the same direction. An’an followed the blond Public Security officer without objection, praising his kindness and handsome face the whole way.
Upon hearing that Amuro had helped her by providing a false alibi because he believed in her character, An’an was deeply moved.
She had always heard that people in big cities were cold and indifferent. She never expected to find such genuine warmth between neighbors. An’an was so moved she was almost at a loss for words.
The girl’s trust was written all over her face. Amuro Tooru fell silent for a subtle moment.
He had, indeed, intended to gain her trust to make it easier to get information from her later, but this was a little too easy.
The Public Security undercover agent’s conscience pricked him faintly.
“Want some ice cream?” Amuro Tooru asked in a gentle voice.
An ice cream truck on the roadside exuded a cool, refreshing aura in the summer heat. He walked over and bought two vanilla-flavored ice cream cones—Amuro had noticed that the girl’s gaze had lingered longest on the vanilla flavor.
An’an accepted it happily. Mr. Amuro was handsome and kind-hearted; she would praise him to the high heavens.
“Ahm.”
The tip of the creamy-colored ice cream was bitten off. The dark-haired girl’s lips were touched with a snowy white, which was then carefully licked away by the tip of her tongue.
The summer breeze blew, and her long, cascading hair made An’an eat the ice cream very slowly.
“Have you called someone to fix the apartment door?” Amuro asked, as if making small talk.
She had. Before leaving, An’an had found a toolbox left by the previous tenant in the apartment. Hiro had said he would fix it, that she could just leave it to him.
The girl’s mouth was occupied by the ice cream, so she could only nod in response.
She was afraid the ice cream would melt in the summer heat and wanted to finish it quickly.
An’an’s efforts were in vain. She had to use her fingers to push her hair away while also responding to the topics Amuro Tooru occasionally brought up. There was simply no time to eat the ice cream.
The creamy ice cream melted under the sun, dripping onto the girl’s fingers.
“Let me get that for you,” Amuro said, one step ahead of her as she started to look for a napkin.
He took out a clean handkerchief and gestured for the girl to give him her hand.
“I’ve been troubling you all day, Mr. Amuro. I’m really sorry,” An’an said, ashamed.
The girl’s fair fingertips rested gently on the blond young man’s wheat-colored palm. He smiled and said it was no trouble.
The handkerchief wiped away the melted ice cream bit by bit. In the process, it was inevitable that Amuro’s fingers would touch the girl’s hand.
The web between her thumb and index finger, as well as both sides of her index finger, were wiped especially clean and carefully by him.
‘No calluses from a gun.’
The undercover Public Security officer confirmed it with the pad of his finger. The girl’s fingertips, which had curled unconsciously from the tickling sensation, were gently straightened by him and checked one by one.
Gin’s words echoed in Amuro’s mind.
Rather than believing that Scotch Whisky had come back from the dead, he was more inclined to think it was Gin’s paranoia acting up. Gin had gone mad from hunting down moles.
But Gin had indeed been shot.
The girl before him was the only survivor from that day. After weighing the options again and again, Amuro had decided to test her.
There were no calluses on her hands. She didn’t know how to use a gun.
An’an: “Eh—”