“You said you came for an interview earlier. What about school?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ranpo answered, annoyed. “I was attending the police academy and living in the dorm until they kicked me out less than a year ago.”
“They kicked you out?”
“The rules were a pain in the ass. Don’t leave the dorm after curfew, no buying sweets, wear these clothes, follow these rules. And the classes bored me to death. Dealing with other people is such a hassle, too. I ended up getting into an argument with the warden and exposed all his past exploits with women, so he kicked me out.”
That would certainly do it.
“I’ve been moving from place to place since then. When I was working and living at a military post, I told everyone about the chief’s embezzlement, so I got expelled. When I did errands at a construction site, I got sick of the corporate hierarchy and ran away. When I was working in postal delivery, I found an unnecessary letter and threw it away before checking what was inside, so they fired me. But who would even want a useless letter? Nobody. That’s who.”
Ranpo made it sound as if it were an accepted fact while Fukuzawa inwardly groaned. Living at a military post, working at a construction site, and delivering mail… They really did sound like jobs this kid wouldn’t be able to handle.
“The city really is a mystery to me.”
The city—why did he leave his hometown?
“What about your parents back home?”
“They’re dead.” A faint hue of sorrow flashed across Ranpo’s face. “Died in an accident. I don’t have any siblings or relatives, either, so I came to Yokohama. My dad told me to go to the Yokohama Police Academy’s principal for help if anything ever happened to him. They apparently knew each other, and my dad was kind of well-known for a police officer. But, well, I got kicked out of the academy pretty quickly.”
“What was your father’s name?”
When Ranpo told Fukuzawa, he was slightly taken aback. It was a name even Fukuzawa knew. There wasn’t a soul who worked in his business who didn’t.
The man was a legendary detective. The “Headless Officer” case, the “Moonlight Phantom,” the “Cow Head Incident”—he helped solve several difficult cases that shook the nation. His powers of deduction and observation were so extraordinary that people called him the Clairvoyant. He was highly respected and praised.
There were rumors that he retired and moved to the countryside, but…he passed away?
“He probably wasn’t amazing enough to be known to the public or anything, though. He could never beat my mom when it came to solving mysteries or reasoning, so she always got the upper hand on him when they argued back home.”
Ranpo also mentioned his mother’s name, but Fukuzawa wasn’t familiar with it. Apparently, she wasn’t a police officer, detective, or even a criminal psychologist, but just an ordinary housewife. And yet, she was sharp enough to be able to run circles around the legendary Clairvoyant. She must have been one incredible woman.
“Anyway, so that’s why I’m here.” Ranpo pushed aside a bowl with leftover mochi in it, then said, “I have absolutely no idea what adults are thinking. Having said that, I have no home to return to, and my interview disappeared. I’ve got nowhere to go.”
There it was again. Fukuzawa felt as if something was off. “I have absolutely no idea what adults are thinking,” the kid said—and something about how that came across seemed vaguely wrong.
A naive only child raised by genius parents… This kid was different from the others. There was something about how his brain worked that was…extraordinarily different. Fukuzawa didn’t know how else to clearly express it, but it processed information more quickly than others. Most people would probably chalk it up to powers of deduction, but…even if the average person couldn’t understand him, surely the reverse wouldn’t be possible, that he couldn’t understand them? There was a decisive discrepancy.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Do I get points for every obvious detail I list in the end?”
Did this kid not realize he was special? That would somewhat explain his odd behavior. Ranpo knew the secretary was the criminal the moment he walked into the office, but the reason he didn’t speak up was because in his head, he thought the adults in the room all knew that as well. That must be
why he kept rambling on about himself rather than the murder. Or perhaps it was because he had simply lived a sheltered life in a bubble with his parents and no one else. But even if this hypothesis were true, how would one explain that to this kid? “You’re special. You have something that others don’t.” But why? And how different exactly was he? How could it be proved?
“What’s wrong?” Ranpo carefully stared at Fukuzawa, but Fukuzawa just quietly shook his head.
What would even be the point of explaining things anyway? He was a stranger, after all. Fukuzawa and Ranpo’s relationship was to end here at this café. They just happened to run into each other at the scene of the crime, but their lives would soon take different paths once again.
Fukuzawa felt as if he had no right to give his opinion, let alone lecture the kid. There was an invisible boulder deep within him. It was hard, cold, and only grew heavier, squeezing his heart into a vise grip every time he got close to connecting with another human being.
The boulder was his past.
Wasn’t that the cause of such tragedy and bloodshed in the first place—getting involved in others’ lives while believing everyone shared the same ideals?
Fukuzawa had had enough of getting tangled up with others.