The morning at the guesthouse "Yukimachi" was quiet. No footsteps echoed through the hallway. Only the faint aroma of miso soup drifted from the kitchen—no other sound of life. 如月 澪 had stayed up late the night before and skipped breakfast. She sat by the window in her coat, gazing out at the world beyond. The cedar forest was half-swallowed by the white morning mist. The sky hung low and leaden. Today would not clear. That notebook—"Experimental Records 1993–1997, Washio Nagito," discovered beneath the floorboards—still lay in her backpack. Twelve names. Tachibana Hina, age eleven. A meticulous record of human experimentation, written in Washio Nagito's careful hand. (I have to find a way to bring this to light.) The thought stopped there. She'd lost count of how many times. Then a voice came from the entrance. --- The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Navy suit, leather business bag. His attire was conspicuously out of place in this mountain guesthouse. "I have something to deliver to Ms. Kisaragi Misaki." Dōjima Setsuko—seventy-three years old, running the forty-five-year-old "Yukimachi" alone—came to fetch 澪 with a troubled expression. When 澪 descended the stairs, the man waited at the entrance. He bowed deeply and extended an envelope. "I'm from the Kurosaki Law Office. I've come on behalf of Washio Masashi to deliver this." She took it. The envelope was thick. The man said nothing more, simply got into his car and left. 澪 stood in the doorway until the engine sound disappeared beyond the cedar forest. Dōjima peered at her with concern. 澪 only said, "I'm fine," and returned to her room. She opened the seal. Three sheets of letterhead. Cleanly typed Japanese in the law office's format. She read. When she finished, 澪 remained motionless. The content was unambiguous. Cease investigation within forty-eight hours. Return all collected materials. Failure to comply would result in criminal prosecution for trespassing and defamation. The Mizutsuru Medical Association—the medical corporation providing regional healthcare—and the Washio family would not hesitate to pursue civil litigation for unwarranted reputational damage. This was the final warning. It was different from the previous warning email. There was a deadline. A law office name. A real attorney's signature. 澪 placed the envelope on her desk. She leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes. (This is real. This is a genuine declaration of war.) She breathed in deeply, then exhaled. --- In the afternoon, 澪 headed toward Yarisuzu's shop. The only store in the district. A small place handling everything from groceries to heating oil. The proprietor, Yarisuzu Tamotsu—forty-six years old, formerly an administrative staff member at Hyōsumi General Hospital—was someone 澪 had spoken with several times since arriving in this area. A calm man who spoke in slow Nagano dialect. Beneath his gentle appearance lay something heavy, something she'd sensed from their first meeting. She didn't approach the front. A voice called from the back entrance. "Misaki. Could you come this way?" Yarisuzu's voice. Lower than usual. 澪 went around to the back. Yarisuzu stood before the narrow alley-facing back entrance. His face was ashen. His clear gray eyes held a vague, unfocused quality unlike his normal gaze. The old scar on the first joint of his right middle finger—that hand trembled slightly. "It's about last night." He lowered his voice. "Someone from the Mizutsuru Association came to my daughter's workplace. Someone she'd never met. They... they asked about her work. Said it would be troublesome if she lost her job, that sort of thing, indirectly..." 澪 said nothing. Yarisuzu continued. "I never told my daughter that I was helping you. Yet they knew. They knew exactly... They must have been watching. Watching me." [sad] "I understand. I can't ask you to continue." 澪 answered quietly, careful to keep her voice steady. "Please protect your daughter." Yarisuzu bowed deeply. [sad] "I'm truly sorry. I... I believe what you're doing is right. I believe it's the truth. But when I think of my daughter..." His words trailed off. There was a faint glimmer in his eyes. 澪 understood: this man's anguish was genuine. The weight of secrets carried for over thirty years, and the threat now descending upon his family. "It's all right." 澪 said it once more. Without lifting his face, Yarisuzu hurried back into the shop. The back door closed quietly. 澪 stood alone in the alley. (The ground is crumbling.) It wasn't an abstract sensation. Something more concrete. Physical. The soil beneath her feet flowing away, little by little, little by little. The sky remained leaden. --- In the evening, 澪 headed toward the Masago Town Public Library. Twenty-five minutes by car from Kirio Station, twelve kilometers south of the Hyōsumi district. A three-story library in the center of Masago Town. Approximately thirty-two thousand volumes. A place 澪 had visited several times since arriving. The librarian, Katase Misuzu, was at the counter. Chestnut-colored straight hair tied back, thin silver-rimmed glasses. When 澪 approached, Misuzu noticed immediately, and her expression shifted slightly. "May I have a moment?" Misuzu spoke first. The two moved to a quiet corner of the reading room, between the shelves. [serious] "This morning, the director spoke to me directly." Misuzu continued in a lowered tone, choosing her words carefully, with long pauses between them. [serious] "I was told not to show any materials related to Hyōsumi Hospital to an investigator named Kisaragi. As a direct work order." "...From the director." "Yes. I don't know where the director heard this. But..." Misuzu bit her lip. On her left ring finger was the faint scar of an old burn. That hand gently pulled at her cardigan sleeve. [serious] "I must follow orders. I can no longer provide assistance within the library." 澪 looked at Misuzu. Justice and practical fear warred across this woman's face. 澪 understood perfectly. She didn't want to endanger someone she couldn't protect. [gentle] "Don't contact me again. Thank you for everything until now." 澪 said only that and left the library. The outside air was cold. An October evening in Masago Town, with almost no one on the streets. 澪 closed her coat and walked toward the parking lot. (I'm isolated.) It was clear. The lawyer's notice. Yarisuzu's withdrawal. Misuzu's work order. Three directions, simultaneously. This was no coincidence. Washio Masashi had methodically tightened the encirclement. --- She returned to "Yukimachi" after seven in the evening. She declined dinner. Locked herself in her room and opened her backpack. She laid out all the evidence she'd gathered on the bed. Photographs of the experimental notebook—Washio Nagito's handwritten original—still in her possession, recovered from beneath the floorboards of Room 302. Notes from her meeting with Tachibana Tomoe—the mother of the girl Hina, currently living in Nagano City—documenting her testimony. A record of what Yarisuzu had told her orally about the hospital's closure. And photocopied excerpts from articles in the local paper, "Hokushin Maiasa Shinbun." 澪 examined each one with a cold, analytical eye. (It's not enough.) The conclusion was stark. The experimental notebook was powerful evidence. But to use it in legal proceedings, the legitimacy of its acquisition would be questioned. Something found beneath the floorboards of a ruin couldn't simply be submitted as external evidence. Tomoe's testimony was important, but oral testimony alone was weak. Yarisuzu's information was the same. The newspaper articles corroborated the fact of suspicious deaths, but didn't directly connect them to Washio Nagito's actions. It wasn't in a form suitable for external submission as a report. 澪 closed her notebook. --- Late that night, an email arrived on her PC. The sender was "Kiryu"—澪's supervisor at the Minato Psychological Science Association. The Minato Psychological Science Association was a private academic organization established in 2001, conducting scientific investigations into paranormal phenomena. 澪 had been dispatched here by them to investigate the abandoned hospital. The subject line: "Regarding Temporary Suspension of Investigation." She read it. The content was brief. The Kurosaki Law Office had also contacted the association. Legal risk could extend to the entire organization. Suspend the investigation and return to Tokyo. The decision would be made at headquarters. 澪 stared at the screen. The light pierced her eyes. The association was her only backing. The certifying body for her credentials, the intermediary for her cases, the last fortress when legal problems arose. And that fortress was retreating. She covered her face with both hands. A sound came out. She was surprised at herself. Someone emotionally reserved—someone who had always pushed feelings inward, trying to understand the world through numbers, records, and logic—was crying aloud. It was frustration. The bitterness of being cornered exactly as Masashi had planned. The shame of hearing Tachibana Hina say "big sister, find me" and being unable to answer that plea. The helplessness of holding a notebook with twelve names written in it and being able to do nothing. It all poured out at once. When the tears exhausted themselves, the room fell silent. Looking at the clock, it was past one in the morning. 澪 lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The word "give up" floated through her mind, then faded. Floated, then faded. Then her smartphone vibrated. A message. From Katase Misuzu. 澪 had told her not to contact her again. Yet Misuzu had—. She opened the message. 'After I got home, I checked my grandmother's belongings again. There was another piece of paper tucked behind a medical card. It has Dr. Nagito's name, a drug name, and a series of numbers written on it. ...Not in my grandmother's handwriting.' 澪 sat up in bed. With trembling hands, she read it again. Not her grandmother's handwriting. (Someone else's writing—) Her mind began to move. Had someone given it to Misuzu's grandmother? Or had her grandmother received it from someone? Dr. Nagito's name, a drug name, numbers. What did it mean? 澪 stood, her eyes still red. She pulled on her coat and opened her investigation notebook. Her hands still trembled slightly. But her mind was already working. In that moment at the bottom of the abyss, a thin thread appeared in the darkness before her. She didn't yet know where it led. But 澪 had no intention of letting go.