A death had occurred within the Tsushima household.
For the time being, Tsushima Gen'emon did not suspect Shibusawa Tatsuhiko. Instead, he ordered his guards to conduct an internal investigation, without the slightest intention of involving the city police.
He even feared that the incident might have been retaliation from an ability user.
Fortunately, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko happened to be staying as a guest, which gave Tsushima Gen'emon a measure of reassurance. If the worst came to pass, he could always seek help from the Shibusawa family. Surely they would never allow any harm to come to one of their own.
As a result, Tsushima Gen'emon abandoned the superior attitude of an elder and treated Shibusawa Tatsuhiko with far greater respect. Every aspect of his accommodations—from food and clothing to lodging and daily comforts—was arranged according to the highest standards for an honored guest, ensuring he lacked for nothing.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko accepted it all without the slightest hesitation.
Seated once more in the room where he had taught Tsushima Shuuji the previous day, he found that the tatami had been scrubbed over and over by the servants until not a trace of dirt remained, ensuring not even the hem of his clothes would be stained.
Across the low tea table, Tsushima Shuuji had finished reading the novel that hardly resembled a novel at all.
It wasn't that Black Magic Notebook possessed a particularly compelling plot.
Rather, it consisted of numerous short sections introducing various aspects of the "black magic" that had flourished in medieval Europe.
From the distinction between sorcerers and magicians...
To the origins and philosophical foundations of Kabbalistic magic...
Along the way, it even touched on an American magician's "sex magic," before moving on to discuss the Rosicrucians, nocturnal demons, ancient tarot cards, witches' sabbaths, black masses, natural magic, astrology, prophecy, and countless other topics.
Piece by piece, it painted the outline of an entire world of magic.
Tsushima Shuuji closed the book.
Throughout its pages, the relationship between humans and devils had been mentioned again and again.
The Shibusawa Tatsuhiko now waiting expectantly for his impressions was no less than a living devil himself.
"I've finished reading it, Shibusawa-san."
"And?"
"I... didn't really understand it... Perhaps it's simply too profound for someone like me."
Tsushima Shuuji concealed his true thoughts behind deliberate clumsiness.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko gave a faint laugh.
"There are many forms a novel can take. At its core, it's simply a work of literature that can be read and understood by others. My debut work is still rather immature. If you examine it carefully, you'll find quite a few flaws. Its only real strength is that few others have compiled and organized knowledge of 'black magic' as systematically as I have."
Tsushima Shuuji politely praised him.
"You're amazing, Mr. Shibusawa."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko gently steered the conversation toward writing.
"Would you like to try writing something yourself? Whatever you choose to write, the spirit within your soul will guide you toward what truly interests you."
Tsushima Shuuji remained silent.
There wasn't the slightest sign that he intended to pick up a pen.
The doll-like Japanese boy wore a smile that was painfully artificial.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko reached out, placed a pen into his hand, and the instant their skin touched, goosebumps rippled across Tsushima Shuuji's arm.
It was the instinctive reaction of a creature sensing danger.
"Or..." Shibusawa Tatsuhiko said softly, "would you prefer a little reward?"
"..."
"Shuuji-kun, whatever dreams you have, you can tell me through your writing."
Like a white devil that had suddenly descended upon the Tsushima household, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko brought only nightmares. The faint smile playing at his lips carried an ominous air, yet he showed Tsushima Shuuji an unusual degree of patience and mercy.
And the mercy of a devil was the most terrifying thing of all.
With the servants watching from a distance, Tsushima Shuuji finally took hold of the pen.
After sitting motionless for a long time, he wrote a single sentence on the pristine sheet of paper.
[Does magic exist in this world?]
After reading the Black Magic Notebook, which was more educational than fictional, he had genuinely found himself wondering.
"Perhaps it does, perhaps it doesn't; The world is vast, and I certainly haven't uncovered all of its secrets."
The former White Qilin had once believed in black magic with absolute conviction, even becoming obsessed with it. Later, after discovering he had been deceived, he had reacted with furious humiliation.
Now, having come to terms with that embarrassing chapter of his life, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko could calmly admit, without batting an eye, that his own experience was too limited to verify whether such things truly existed.
Tsushima Shuuji wrote another sentence.
[If magic does exist, are people living in a happy world or in a hell they don't even realize they're trapped inside?]
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko's eyelashes were as white as fresh snow, their frosted appearance accentuating his crimson eyes.
He studied the two questions with quiet attention.
They read like the opening lines of a novel.
They alone were enough to reveal the child's extraordinary literary talent.
Looks like I'm not far from completing my assignment...
"What do you think?" Shibusawa Tatsuhiko asked with an amused smile.
Tsushima Shuuji wrote a third vertical line of text, his neat handwriting revealing a glimpse of his inner world.
[I don't know. Rather than thinking about that, I'm more curious about the guest sitting in front of me.]
"Me?"
[Sir, murder is against the law.]
"You've misunderstood me, Shuuji-kun."
[You came to my room in the middle of the night. My maid died because of you. I don't know what it is about me that interests you, but something about your presence makes me uneasy.]
It was as though Tsushima Shuuji wanted him to confess.
Little by little, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko tightened his hold over the boy's timid heart.
Just like his father.
"I only want to see you smile."
It was Akiya-san's request after all.
He was simply carrying it out according to the "proper procedure."
"Is that so?"
At the end of the paragraph, Tsushima Shuuji drew a smiling face.
Yet his own expression remained utterly unchanged.
He's completely silent and still, as though life itself had already left him.
It displeased Shibusawa Tatsuhiko immensely.
Luring a maid to her death had been effortless for him.
But what he wanted to see was a change in Tsushima Shuuji; not this unchanging, lifeless expression.
With the tip of one finger, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko condescendingly lifted the face of the subject of his assignment.
"Not the movement of your facial muscles. Happiness. Do you understand?"
"The kind from sex magic?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
Tsushima Shuuji smiled with innocent curiosity, a smile bright enough to melt the warmth of spring sunlight.
Patiently, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko guided him.
"It's something you truly want to do. An overwhelming desire... something you long for so desperately that acting upon it would feel like being born anew."
Realization dawned on Tsushima Shuuji.
He picked up the copy of Black Magic Notebook he had just finished reading.
"Shibusawa-san, thank you for bringing me such happiness..."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko blinked in surprise.
This child likes my novel?
Could black magic actually have a successor?
Having only recently become a novelist, he had yet to receive any feedback from his readers.
A tiny spark of delight flickered within him.
The very next second, he watched Tsushima Shuuji grip the book firmly with both hands.
With an innocent, guileless expression, the boy said,
"Mm. I think I've found that impulse you were talking about. You won't blame me... will you?"
Riiip.
The Black Magic Notebook split cleanly in half.
The brown-haired boy in his kimono smiled sweetly.
"This novel is really terrible."
After driving in the first knife, he calmly twisted in a second.
"I'm so glad I could make it disappear."
"..."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko fell silent.
His breathing grew unsteady. His already pale complexion turned even whiter, his skin like fresh snow. For an instant, murderous intent flashed across his exquisitely beautiful face, and he had the overwhelming urge to wrap his hands around that slender little neck and snap it.
The servant kneeling nearby turned deathly pale.
"Young Master Shuuji! What are you doing?!"
Having thoroughly destroyed the book, Tsushima Shuuji answered with perfect obedience.
"I'm only doing what Shibusawa-san taught me. There were so many frightening things in this novel... it scared me to death."
The corners of his lips curved upward.
His facial muscles pulled into a smile resembling that of a hannya mask.
It was a smile that somehow radiated both chilling malice and childlike innocence.
"Shibusawa-san, will you keep teaching me?"
"I'd like to read an even more interesting novel next."
"..."
Hm? He still managed to hold back?
Tsushima Shuuji regarded the obviously proud and aloof Shibusawa Tatsuhiko with detached eyes.
When Shibusawa Tatsuhiko spoke again, his voice was soft, as though he were suppressing something.
"As long as Shuuji-kun is happy. I'll make sure every single day of your life is filled with happiness."
The moment Tsushima Shuuji recalled the maid's "suicide," the smile froze on his face.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko continued,
"There aren't any more novels for today. Let's practice your handwriting instead, Shuuji-kun."
By the end of the day, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko had forced Tsushima Shuuji to fill countless sheets of copybook exercises.
Shuuji suffered miserably.
The practice sheets had all been prepared in advance.
Each one bore phrases that read like curses.
[Love life.]
[Cherish your life.]
[Stay positive.]
[Become devoted to writing.]
[Live happily.]
By the time he finished, Tsushima Shuuji's wrist ached so badly it was nearly numb.
He didn't feel even the slightest bit happy.
This man is insane!
On the very first day, he'd set his sights on him.
On the second, he'd killed his personal maid.
As long as Shibusawa Tatsuhiko still had to hide his true nature, there was time to drive him away. Otherwise, who knew what might happen next?
He couldn't shake the feeling that Black Magic Notebook had been hinting at something all along—
Sex magic.
Homosexuality.
Blood.
Children.
Baptism.
Black Mass.
This is really, really bad!
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko sat cross-legged nearby without paying any attention to Shuuji's handwriting. He could inspect the finished work later.
Instead, he accepted a bottle of glue that a servant handed him with utmost care and patiently began repairing the torn pages.
Using painstaking craftsmanship, he meticulously pieced his very first published novel back together.
When he finally finished piecing the book back together, Tsushima Shuuji applauded him, shattering his sense of satisfaction.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko's expression turned even colder.
He gave the defiant boy a long, searching look before taking away his handwriting exercises. The handwriting was fairly neat. He offered no verbal criticism, simply read through every page with complete seriousness.
Before leaving, he asked, "Is there anything you like, Shuuji-kun?"
He directed the question not at Tsushima Shuuji, but at one of the household servants right in front of him.
The Tsushima family's servant answered nervously, "Shuuji-bocchan seems to be fond of seafood."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko nodded.
"I'll have some flown in."
That evening, Tsushima Shuuji's dinner consisted of an extravagant seafood feast, meticulously prepared by the Shibusawa family's head chef.
Even Tsushima Gen'emon praised it.
"The flavors are exquisite. Thank you for your hospitality."
After finishing the meal, however, Tsushima Shuuji immediately sensed that something was wrong.
Why is Shibusawa Tatsuhiko swallowing his anger?
No, that's impossible.
He must have another move waiting.
His gaze lingered on the premium crab meat he loved so much.
Then he indulged himself anyway.
Living in an environment like this, even dying as a well-fed ghost wouldn't be such a bad ending.
Within half an hour after dinner—
Tsushima Shuuji broke out in red rashes all over his body after accidentally eating seafood he was allergic to.
He needed medicated ointment applied over his entire body.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko apologized with apparent sincerity.
"I'm terribly sorry. I consulted a doctor, who said there's an ointment specifically for this kind of allergic reaction. It needs to be applied over the entire body, so I'll have to trouble your servants to help."
Tsushima Gen'emon was displeased that his youngest son had embarrassed himself and said bluntly,
"It's fine."
He then ordered a maid to accompany his youngest son back to his room and apply the medicine.
The moment Tsushima Shuuji realized he would have to take off his clothes, his entire body went rigid.
Every fiber of his being rejected the idea.
The maid looked troubled.
"Shuuji-bocchan, please take off your clothes."
His skin itched unbearably.
"I'll do it myself," Tsushima Shuuji insisted stubbornly. "Please leave."
The maid shook her head.
"The Master ordered me to apply the medicine for you."
In the Tsushima household, no one dared defy Tsushima Gen'emon's orders.
Compared to the master's authority, the young master's struggles and protests were insignificant.
Besides...
Rumors had already begun circulating in private that it was the eccentric young master who had driven his own maid to her death. That was why, people whispered, even the head of the family had been unable to uncover the truth.
From outside the room, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko called out,
"Shuuji-kun, if you need my help, just call for me. I wouldn't mind expressing my apology in this way."
Caught between a wolf before him and a tiger behind him, Tsushima Shuuji found himself trapped with no escape.
He screamed inwardly.
His greatest weakness had been cornered.
He loathed having any maid touch his body.
"Give me the medicine!" he demanded, lunging for the ointment in the maid's hands.
"Ah—!"
She lost her grip.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko absentmindedly stroked the long white hair tied beneath his ribbon.
His voice remained indifferent.
"I think I heard someone cry out. Did something happen inside? I'll send another servant in to assist you."
In a small, delicate voice, Tsushima Shuuji replied,
"There's no need."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko ignored him.
Instead, he summoned another servant from the Tsushima household.
This time, it was a man.
He had an uncanny eye for such things—he always managed to pick the servants Tsushima Shuuji despised the most.
"I'll leave him in your care."
"No, no. You're our honored guest. Taking care of Shuuji-bocchan is my duty."
The male servant accepted the request with flattered enthusiasm and stepped into the room.
Tsushima Shuuji felt as though he were suffocating.
In the end, he desperately called out to the person responsible for all of this.
"Shibusawa-san..."
After bowing his head and admitting defeat, he was rewarded with a professionally prepared medicinal bath provided by the Shibusawa family's doctor.
The relentless itching throughout his body finally subsided.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko handed him a towel and gently wiped his cheeks.
That face deserved to be treated kindly.
Under Shibusawa Tatsuhiko's "careful care," Tsushima Shuuji silently swallowed every grievance, engraving another debt into his memory.
Unlike the fear and submission he showed toward his own family, he was remarkably aggressive toward outsiders.
Many of his previous tutors had eventually been driven away by the countless tricks and torments he had devised for them.
At the sight of the scene before him, Tsushima Gen'emon's expression stiffened ever so slightly, uncertainty creeping into his heart.
Could it be that someone from the Shibusawa family has really taken a liking to Shuuji?
These accidents, one after another... are they truly accidents... or something else?
That night, he lay awake until dawn.
The next morning, dark circles hung beneath Tsushima Shuuji's eyes as he took his seat across from Shibusawa Tatsuhiko.
It was the third day since they had met.
Several new books had appeared on the tea table: The Two-Sen Copper Coin, Cold Sorrow, Dr. Wind, and Three Wives—all prize-winning works.
At last, Tsushima Shuuji found some short stories that genuinely interested him.
If The Two-Sen Copper Coin surprised him with its clever mystery, then Cold Sorrow, a work of realistic fiction, vividly portrayed the life of a down-and-out assassin after changing professions. For the first time, he understood how desperately difficult life could be for people without money.
Compared with those two, Dr. Wind and Three Wives failed to capture his interest nearly as much.
The former was absurd, but not in a way that made him laugh.
The latter revolved around love and family—hardly the sort of story he would ever choose to read.
"So... if you don't have money, you can starve to death...?" Tsushima Shuuji murmured. "Even assassins are so poor."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko had never met Oda Sakunosuke, but from the details in the novel, he could more or less tell that the author himself had once been an assassin—likely the sort of low-level killer who hadn't been successful.
"The weak are the same no matter where they are."
"Are you one of the strong, Shibusawa-san?"
Tsushima Shuuji seemed to possess an instinctive talent for stepping directly onto other people's landmines.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko had been about to answer yes, but memories of his own record flashed through his mind. The word stopped halfway to his lips.
"Compared to ordinary people, I am. But... there are others stronger than me."
"Who?" Tsushima Shuuji asked.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko had no intention of answering.
He lowered his head to check his phone.
Akiya-san had finally replied about yesterday's incident.
[Don't kill people, Shibusawa.]
[Can you really not change someone through positive means?]
[He's only a child—even younger than Chuuya. I already know what happened with the maid. It wasn't your fault, but you mustn't use death to provoke him again.]
[I won't condemn you for being too ruthless the way ordinary people would. But you should understand this: someone without compassion will never have friends, and even those like you will find it difficult to accept you. Didn't you say you wanted to learn how to fill the emptiness inside yourself? Then go and seek out your own kind. The person sitting in front of you is one of them as well.]
[He's in even greater pain than you are. He's even further beyond salvation.]
After reading the messages, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko fell into thought.
Akiya-san thinks that highly of this child?
One of my own kind?
The same kind as Edogawa Ranpo?
With that thought, the way he looked at Tsushima Shuuji subtly changed.
To him, there were two kinds of kindred spirits.
Men like Akiya-san, who could guide him forward.
And people like Edogawa Ranpo, whom he wanted nothing more than to utterly defeat.
Only those two could see the same world he did.
Now...
Will there be a third?
"Shuuji-kun," he said, "you've asked me so many questions. It's my turn now."
"Hm?"
"Do you know what an ability is—?"
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko leaned forward.
A brilliant light ignited within his cold crimson eyes.
Instinctively, Tsushima Shuuji leaned back and held his breath.
This man just became even more dangerous.
Wait... what's an ability?
Is it another bizarre thing like black magic?
This guy has to be some cult missionary!
"Oh? It seems you don't."
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko had already read the answer from his expression.
He leaned back, a trace of disappointment showing on his face.
So this was merely an intelligent, innocent child without no ability?
Tsushima Shuuji had the distinct feeling the other was looking down on him.
Just because I don't know what an ability is?
What kind of ridiculous hierarchy is this? Being looked down on for something like that is infuriating.
It's not as if I'm obsessed with this sort of occult nonsense like he is.
His eyes darted, and an idea came to him.
"I think... I remember something now."
The little canary's clear, youthful voice finally drew a reaction from Shibusawa Tatsuhiko.
Resting his cheek on one hand, he had been watching the boy listlessly.
Then, for the first time, his expression shifted.
Because Tsushima Shuuji continued,
"Many years ago, someone who looked just like my older brother once said..."
"I'm the strongest."