Ogikubo Izakaya "Sugi no Ki" ~The Defeated's Revenge Score~ - The Key Beyond the Wall

The day before visiting Kuroda's office, Seiichi was alone at the Ogikubo shop preparing ingredients, rolling the name of the man Jack had taught him around in his head. Kuroda. A man who posed as an antique dealer in Ginza while orchestrating black market dealings with foreign residents. He paid bribes to immigration officials to protect his movements and quickly informed the authorities of anyone who got close to him. That self-protective method carried the same stench as the types Seiichi had encountered during his detective days. (If I'm reported, I'll end up on the immigration official's list. Contact with Mueller could be construed as illegal dealings with foreigners.) The sound of the knife cutting daikon echoed through the quiet kitchen. Still, nothing would begin if he didn't move. Having accepted Mueller's request, Seiichi had no choice but to confront Kuroda directly. Having weighed the risks, Seiichi decided to head to Ginza. ＊ The next morning, Seiichi boarded the Chuo Line from Ogikubo to Ginza. He transferred to the Marunouchi Line and emerged onto the street at Ginza Station to find the sky clear and high. Autumn sunlight was drying the stone pavement. When he turned into a back alley off Ginza-dori, the air suddenly darkened. The mixed-use building was a three-story old reinforced concrete structure. The first floor had a seal shop, the second floor displayed a sign for an accounting office. The third floor had no signage at all. That was the answer. He climbed the steep stairs and knocked on the third-floor door. After a brief pause, the door opened. The first thing he sensed was the smell of cigarettes. In the dimly lit interior, antiques were crammed onto every available surface. Blue celadon vases on shelves, a folding screen in the corner, old hanging scrolls by the window. The musty smell from these items mixed with cheap cigarette smoke, weighing down the air in the room. A man sat at the desk in the back. Mid-fifties, perhaps. Black hair cut short with white mixed in, his facial flesh sagging toward his neck. Small in stature, but with stubborn weight at his core. A cigarette between greasy cheeks, he looked Seiichi up and down as if appraising merchandise. His eyes gleamed faintly. The same eyes he used when assessing the value of goods, Seiichi thought. "A former detective turned izakaya owner—what brings you here?" He'd struck first. He already knew who Seiichi was. Seiichi kept his composure hidden. He pretended to reach into his jacket's inner pocket while confirming the number of exits in the room and the position of the man standing behind the desk. One subordinate. One door. "Mueller Heinrich sent me about the ring. I'd like to discuss buying it back." Kuroda slowly pressed his cigarette into the ashtray. He smiled thinly. Malice seeped through the smile. "Buying it back. I see. You know the market price?" "Tell me." "That ring is special, you see." Kuroda leaned his elbows on the desk. He interlaced his fingers. "Behind the Dresden work, there's a mechanism. A device to open the secret safe used by the Nazi SS. A lock mechanism so intricately crafted that even a real locksmith wouldn't understand it. What do you think the price of a ring with such a thing embedded in it would be?" Seiichi remained silent. Kuroda's mouth twisted. "At least ten times the market rate. A bit heavy for an izakaya owner to carry, wouldn't you say? Well, go on home. You'd be better off simmering oden than running errands for a decrepit German." He said it laughing. The subordinate at the back of the desk folded his arms. Seiichi didn't ask the price. Instead, he slowly surveyed the room once more. The arrangement of shelves, the angle of the vases, the position of the hanging scrolls. The safe was in one of them. No, he wouldn't keep it here. This man was clever. "I'll think about it." With only that, Seiichi turned his back. As he closed the door, Kuroda's low laughter followed him out. As he descended the stairs, Seiichi organized the information in his mind. A lock mechanism for a safe was embedded in the ring. Would Mueller claim he didn't know? Or had he known all along? Walking through the crowds on Ginza-dori, Seiichi thought of Mueller Heinrich's face. ＊ That night, Seiichi called Mueller to Sugi no Ki. He specified a time before opening. He wanted to clean up before the regular customers arrived. Mueller was already standing in the alley before Seiichi hung the noren. Coat on, black gloves as always. His gray-white hair was neatly arranged, his posture upright. Not the bearing of a man nearly seventy, Seiichi thought anew. He showed Mueller to the raised seating area. He closed the sliding door. Seiichi didn't serve tea. "I heard from Kuroda. The ring has a safe lock mechanism embedded in its back. Inside the Dresden work is a lock device supposedly used by the SS." Mueller said nothing. Seiichi continued. "And one more thing. At our first meeting, you said you wanted to deliver a wedding ring to your late daughter. But according to your story, your daughter is already dead. There's no one to deliver it to. Which is the truth?" Silence fell. Mueller's hands quietly overlapped on the table. Through the white gloves, the shape of his bones was visible. His hands stiffened slightly. Seiichi looked at Mueller's face. Sharp gray eyes fell on the table once, just once. A crease formed between his brows. That crease wasn't anger. It came from somewhere deeper—the moment it seeped to the surface. This was the first time Seiichi had seen such a change in this old gentleman's face. "...I didn't know the mechanism was embedded in the ring. That's the truth." His voice lowered slightly. "The ring was given by my daughter's fiancé. What kind of man he was... I cannot speak of that now. But I wished for that ring to reach my daughter's hands. That is true." "Is your daughter alive?" Mueller didn't answer. His gaze remained on the table, his mouth closed. That silence was the answer. At least, that's how it sounded to Seiichi. Whether she was alive or dead, there was a reason he couldn't say either. Seiichi didn't press further. There was nothing more to extract now. What concerned him more was that another shadow had been added to the outline of Mueller's request. What this old gentleman carried was not a single layer. "Kuroda quoted ten times the price. I can't move immediately. Give me a little more time." "...Danke." Mueller bowed. Only that gesture maintained its usual quiet, refined movement. ＊ The next night, shortly after opening. A regular factory worker sat at the counter ordering oden when the noren was roughly pushed aside. It was Jack. His thinning chestnut hair slightly damp, he came in still wearing his worn coat. Light caught on his glasses. The moment he saw Seiichi, he lowered his voice. He settled onto the end of the counter and turned his face toward Seiichi. Seiichi silently placed a glass of shochu in front of him. Jack took a sip. His throat moved. Then, after checking his surroundings, he spoke in a low voice. "You got close to Kuroda." "I don't remember telling you." "Word came to us from the other side. You showed up at Kuroda's office." Seiichi didn't stop his work. He watched Jack's profile while wiping the counter with a cloth. "Just as you said, there's something behind Kuroda. I wanted to confirm it." Jack clicked his tongue. "Confirm what? The man behind Kuroda is——" His voice stopped. Jack closed his mouth and checked his surroundings again. The worker had moved to the raised seating. Only the two of them remained at the counter. "The New Liberty Council." Seiichi's hands stopped for just a moment. New Liberty Council—a name Jack had spoken for the first time. Seiichi's detective instincts quietly tensed. "...What kind of organization is it?" "Remnants who survived after America split. Cabinet ministers and military brass from the old government fled to Canada and created something like an unrecognized government. Officially, it's called the North American Free Council—the New Liberty Council. It doesn't officially exist. But in reality, they're trying to move something in Tokyo. Kuroda is the Tokyo-side contact point." Seiichi put the shochu bottle back on the shelf. He looked directly into Jack's eyes. "So everything I do is already known to them." "That's right. I didn't think a smart man would do something this stupid." He spat it out, but there was no real anger in his voice. More like exhaustion. Seiichi thought for a moment before speaking. "Did you defect from that organization?" Jack didn't answer. He raised his cup and took a sip. He drained it. Seiichi refilled it. Jack watched him do it. No words of denial came. No affirmation either. But that silence was different from the wall of silence before. It was a heavy quietness, as if he were organizing something, or questioning himself. A different air drifted between them than before. Not hostile. But not trusting either. Only the fact that they shared the same name drew them together in a way that had no words. Before Jack stood up, Seiichi placed his hand on the counter and spoke. "When you can, tell me what you're trying to protect. I'll listen." Jack didn't turn around. Only, his pace slowed for a moment before he passed through the noren. That was all. ＊ In the dead of night, Seiichi confirmed the area near Kuroda's office once more before heading back to Ogikubo. From Ginza to Ogikubo on the late-night Chuo Line, the train was empty. He got off at the station and entered the familiar alley. The shopping street had already turned off its lights. Only the round light of a street lamp fell on the stone pavement. When Seiichi turned onto Minamiaguchi-dori, he saw a figure ahead. At the same time, he noticed footsteps behind him. (Front and back.) Before he could think, his body moved. Just as he tried to escape into a side alley, an arm extended from the right. A heavy impact ran through his right flank. His breath caught. A second blow came. This time it was a stomp. A sharp pain flashed through his left ribs. He dropped to one knee. The cold of the stone pavement transmitted through his palms. The smell of darkness. The scent of damp earth and stone struck his nose. (Stand. Stand.) Keeping his consciousness, Seiichi curled his body. Preparing for the next blow. Two attackers. Professionals. Moving without sound, without hesitation. That was when it happened. A figure slid in from the edge of the darkness. There was no sound. Like wind, silent and smooth. One man's arm was grabbed. The angle of the joint lock was precise. Bone cracked, and the man let out a muffled cry. His body collapsed. Watching from the ground as Seiichi looked up at the movement—his coat hem wasn't even disturbed. His breathing wasn't even labored. It was Mueller Heinrich. The second man ran. He disappeared into the dark alley. Mueller didn't pursue. "Aren't you going after him?" He said it in a hoarse voice. Mueller kept his gaze fixed on the alley ahead and answered. "There's no need to pursue. He'll simply return to report. We already know where he'll go." It was an old man's voice, but certainty lay beneath it. Not speculation. Knowledge. Seiichi placed his hand on the ground and slowly stood. His ribs ached. With each deep breath, a dull fire ignited in his right flank. He brushed the stone pavement dirt from his knees while looking up at Mueller's standing figure. —The essence of a man who had survived war stood here. Not the mask of a gentleman. Not an old antique dealer. This was Mueller Heinrich. A man who had once stood at the front lines of information warfare. His skeletal structure. Something moved within Seiichi. Not caution. Something separate from that—something far more complex. "...Thank you." He said it briefly.

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Episode 3

Name: Ogikubo Izakaya "Sugi no Ki" ~The Defeated's Revenge Score~
Author: Novelia

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