The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency

by Kafka Asagiri

“What’s going on?” Fukuzawa asked after approaching the officer.

  The pale-faced officer appeared to have remembered Fukuzawa and immediately answered.

  “Th-they’re gone! Somebody in the audience disappeared!”

  “What?!”

  A few officers were talking in the lobby with worried expressions. They showed one another their police notes and went over the current situation. Fukuzawa made sure his footsteps were heard as he approached.

  “Hey,” he said to them.

  One officer lifted up his head.

  “Oh. Hey there. Nice to have ya with us, Watchdog.”

  “Watchdog”? He wasn’t entirely wrong, but there was something comical about the name. Nevertheless, now wasn’t the time to be correcting people.

  Fukuzawa got straight to the point. “I heard one of the patrons escaped.”

  “Sure did. We’re still having trouble finding the guy.” The officer rubbed at his cheek in a circular motion. “Just so there’s no confusion, we have all the exits sealed off perfectly. There’s no way anyone got out of this building. I mean, we’re allowing people to go to the restroom or to get first-aid if they’re not feeling well, so getting out of their seat itself isn’t really a problem. But…”

  “Did somebody not come back?”

  “Exactly. They weren’t in their seat or the bathroom. We can’t find ’em anywhere.”

  “Where did they sit? What did they look like?”

  The officer used the seating chart to show where the runaway sat. The patron had been seated in the very front.

  “It was a middle-aged gentleman wearing an overcoat, a navy suit, and a bowler hat. I asked around, and apparently, he was also using a cane ’cause he had a bad leg.”

  Fukuzawa immediately knew who it was.

  Him.

  It was the distinguished gentleman in the front row who was observing the performers—the man who had set off Fukuzawa’s instincts.

  “Reservation records say his name is Takutou Asano. Thirty-five years old. He came alone.”

  “Takutou Asano”? …Oh, like Naganori Asano, Takumi no Kami.

  “It’s a fake name,” Fukuzawa immediately pointed out. “Damn it. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off him.”

  Fukuzawa had known there was something suspicious about him, but he’d gotten sloppy and let Ranpo and the sudden turn of events blind him.

  “How long ago did he leave his seat?”

  “Witnesses say he was still seated when the curtains rose,” replied the officer while he looked at his notes. “But it’s not like we took roll during the second half of the play, so who knows if he was there?”

  The second half—in other words, the moment when Murakami was killed.

  This meant he could have left his seat for a moment to remotely control some sort of device.

  Fukuzawa tried to think back to when he ran onstage. When he looked back into the audience, did he see the man in the suit? It was too hard to say. Fukuzawa clicked his tongue. He couldn’t remember. He was focused too much on the exit then because he figured the killer would have rushed for the door. His eyes were so glued to the last row closest to the door that he neglected to check the seats right in front of him.

  Ranpo would’ve been able to immediately memorize the entire audience with just one glance, thought Fukuzawa.

  “I want you to keep an eye on the audience!”

  He thought back to what Ranpo had said. Ranpo probably already knew then that the killer was in the audience. That was why he told Fukuzawa to keep an eye open. Yet another oversight on Fukuzawa’s part. The suited gentleman was gone. Ranpo was gone. Don’t tell me that Ranpo was—

  “I’m going to search the building,” said Fukuzawa. “Contact me if you find anything out.”

  “You got it.”

  Fukuzawa turned his back to the officer before hastily walking away. He ground his teeth and blamed himself for inspiring Ranpo. In the end, Ranpo went off on his own and disappeared, but it was supposed to be Fukuzawa’s job to stop the killer and protect Ranpo.

  No matter how talented Ranpo was, he was still just a kid who lacked the means to protect himself. Even if he confronted the enemy, he would immediately be attacked. He wouldn’t stand a chance. Ranpo might have been a genius detective, but he wouldn’t be able to efficiently exhibit his gift alone. It was meaningless without a shield for Ranpo who could fight back, punish the enemy, and create a safe environment for him to use his talents.

  Detectives needed to be armed.

  “Oh, Fukuzawa! I finally found you.”

  A woman up ahead jogged right over to him. It was the theater owner, Ms. Egawa.

  “Sigh. I’ve been looking all over for you. For someone so tall, you can really disappear when you feel like it. Anyway, we need to talk.” She approached Fukuzawa and immediately grabbed his sleeve.

  “What is it? Sorry, but I’m in a hurry. I need to find Ranpo.”

  “It’s about Ranpo,” Ms. Egawa replied hastily. “Come on, now. He told me to be discreet.”

  “What…?”

  Ms. Egawa looked up at Fukuzawa, then whispered secretively, “I have a message from him.”

  Ms. Egawa headed toward the theater control room. It was a fully equipped, narrow space packed with a control panel and recording devices. There was a clear bird’s-eye view of the murder scene from the window on the wall. Whoever used the equipment here could watch the play while changing the lighting or background when needed. Ms. Egawa looked around to make sure nobody else was there before closing the door.

  “So?” Fukuzawa urged her to go on.

  “Honestly, there are a whole load of things I want to ask you as well,” Ms. Egawa ranted. “Like, just who is that boy? He’s full of surprises… How did he know about me?”

  “What do you mean?” Fukuzawa shot her a questioning glance. “Ranpo was looking for the killer. What did he say to you?”

  “Hmm? …Ohhh. Don’t tell me you thought I was the killer. Giggle. That’s not what I meant. I was wondering how he knew so much about my personal life. Anyway, he left me a message for you. He said to make sure no one else was listening.”

  She was in an uncomfortably wonderful mood. Fukuzawa quietly urged her to continue.

  “After Ranpo read me like an open book, he told me there were two people behind this. Then he asked me to help lure the killers out.”

  What? There were two killers? And he requested the owner to help him catch them?

  “Ranpo told me, and I quote, ‘There were two factors to this murder: one that was mediocre and one that was really impressive. You can think of it like a shrimp and a whale. It’d be easy to catch the shrimp, and there’s nothing wrong with that if it’s the best you can manage. Shrimp is great, after all. But if you want to get the whale, you’re gonna have to use the shrimp.’”

  Seemed more complicated than necessary.

  It was all well and good that Ranpo was being optimistic, but he was still as unruly as ever. At any rate, it was clear there were two people behind this, and it looked as if Ranpo was going after the big one—the whale. That much Fukuzawa understood. But then…did that mean Ranpo was safe?

  “Where’s Ranpo?”

  “I wish I could tell you, but he gave me that message here only a few moments ago. Also, he told me to tell you, ‘Go back to your seat in the theater. There, the angel will tell you everything.’”

  Fukuzawa instinctively looked down at the stage through the control room window. He could see the empty seat where he sat during the performance.

  “An angel?”

  “Apparently. Hey, Fukuzawa? Be honest with me. Who is that boy? He said he was a skill user and a master detective, but skill users are just made-up fairy tales from plays, aren’t they?”

  Ranpo actually wasn’t a skill user, so that part was made-up in a sense. That was exactly why Fukuzawa became worried. Was Ranpo rushing into danger because of his lie?

  “Either way, I certainly do believ
e he’s a master detective. I’m honestly becoming a fan!”

  She had come around awfully quickly. Taken aback, Fukuzawa couldn’t help but stare at Ms. Egawa. What did Ranpo say to her that changed her?

  “One more thing Ranpo wanted me to tell you. ‘I’m fine, so don’t worry about me. I’m gonna solve this entire case, so hurry back to your seat.’ He said he would make sure nobody else got hurt.”

  “I’m fine, so don’t worry about me.”

  It sounded as if Ranpo knew exactly the situation he was in and was prepared for it. That was why he asked Ms. Egawa to pass on these messages. He was safe, which meant Fukuzawa should follow his instructions and return to his seat.

  All he could do was trust the newly born master detective.

  The crowd was still stirring from all the commotion, whispering anxiously under the high ceiling lights. An officer was patrolling the area, so no one appeared to be worried for their safety, but even then, they were all facing something they had never experienced before. It would be stranger if they didn’t feel uneasy.

  Fukuzawa surveyed the crowd while heading to his seat. He looked across the front row, but the gentleman from earlier was nowhere to be found. He felt he should probably be investigating the man’s disappearance, but he thought back to what Ranpo had said: “I’m gonna solve this entire case, so hurry back to your seat.” Ranpo wasn’t in his seat, though. Fukuzawa had thought the boy would be waiting for him so that he could unveil the truth.

  Was he running late? Did his plans change?

  Whatever the case, Fukuzawa trusted him, so he decided to wait for the time being and took a seat.

  Immediately, the lights went out.

  Fukuzawa couldn’t see a thing. The lights over the audience seating could be darkened completely for the show, but why now? Who turned them off? Even Fukuzawa needed a few seconds before his eyes adjusted to sudden darkness. But before his eyes could adjust…a blinding light lit up center stage. An instant later, laughter echoed throughout the theater.

  “Haaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!”

  A silhouette stood in the middle of the stage below the pillar-like spotlight beaming down from above. The small shadow blissfully cackled.

  “Look at all the fools—the buffoons—the simpletons! Bless your empty heads! Those horrified expressions on your faces make it look like you’re wearing Halloween costumes! I can even see the price tags!”

  Fukuzawa’s mind went blank.

  What the—? Why? What in the world is going on?

  Ranpo was wearing the glasses. He proudly pushed up the black frames.

  Why was Ranpo there? And what was he saying in front of hundreds of spectators? Who turned on the spotlight? Wouldn’t the lighting technician be the only one who could do that?

  “Your faces are telling me you’re wondering why I’m here. I’ll tell you why. Because I am the savior! I am a master detective, a skill user, and a child of God! I am the one who appears at the end of the play to solve all the mysteries in one sentence. I am the one who makes everyone say ‘Oh, thank goodness’ in relief before being freed to go home. In other words, I am the deus ex machina! Oh, you people are so fortunate! Oh, how I wish I were you! It’s time to solve the mystery! A once-in-a-lifetime show! If anyone needs to go to the restroom, then go now! I’ll wait!”

  The audience stared in awe, mouth agape. Fukuzawa’s stomach started hurting.

  Who…? Who told you to go this far…?

  Everyone in the audience had their eyes and mouth open wide as they stared at whatever this was. The few hundred people here were all united with one common thought.

  What’s going on?

  Ranpo confidently pushed up his glasses as if he thought their silence meant they were listening.

  “I know how you feel! Watching a mystery story without a solution is more disappointing than staring at the scribblings on a bathroom stall! I have come to unveil the secrets and mysteries to you all, for I am a…skill user!”

  After pushing up his glasses, he subtly turned his gaze to Fukuzawa and smiled from ear to ear.

  If only someone could just knock me unconscious right about now…

  Despite the fact that Fukuzawa had met Ranpo only that morning, you would need to combine an entire life’s worth of exhaustion and multiply it by three to understand how he felt.

  Thanks to Fukuzawa’s fatigue, his mind was finally able to catch up with what was going on.

  No matter how carrying—scratch that, obnoxiously loud—his voice was, it should be impossible to be able to hear it this well in a massive theater that could hold four hundred people. In addition, the lights hanging from the ceiling couldn’t be controlled from where Ranpo was standing. There had to be someone working things from the control room.

  Fukuzawa looked back at the window at the top of the auditorium. On the other side of the dimly lit window before the control panel was Ms. Egawa, smiling and giving a thumbs-up.

  They were in this together. Accomplices.

  Ms. Egawa must have given Ranpo a small wireless microphone, which was why his voice was projecting so well. From there, she waited for the right moment and used the control panel to turn on the lights just as they had planned.

  “Now, join me as I unravel the mystery! I’ll be skipping over the boring synopsis of the murder, solely because it’d be boring. After all, what you sad non–skill users really want to know is what happened to the leading actor who was stabbed in the end. Allow me to explain.”

  The nausea Fukuzawa had been feeling reached its climax. Ranpo was planning on unveiling the truth from atop the stage. The spectators were still buzzing, but there was a clear change in the mood now.

  The audience’s focus was slowly returning to the center of the stage where the young man was apparently going to solve the mystery, despite the absurdity of an amateur boasting so openly. The decision of what to do with him could be made after he was finished talking, whether it be putting a stop to him or making a fuss.

  Without anyone’s knowledge, a deep silence reigned over the crowd. It felt as if the continuation of the play was about to begin. Whether this was Ranpo’s objective or pure coincidence wasn’t clear, but Ranpo surveyed the silent crowd and confidently smirked before saying:

  “Listen carefully. I heard a good bit of you in the crowd whispering that you thought an angel killed him. Sounds like your reasoning is that the timing was perfect, and it looked like he was stabbed by an invisible sword from the sky. So let me just take a moment to say this.” Ranpo paused for a moment. “There is an angel.”

  A stir rippled through the crowd. Ranpo raised his hand into the air to cease the uproar.

  “To back up this claim, the death threat that was sent to the theater the other day accurately predicted that an angel would kill the performer. It was clearly referring to the ‘angel’ in the play when it was written.”

  The crowd started buzzing.

  It was no surprise because the death threat was never made public.

  Fukuzawa was at his wits’ end. From the playgoers’ point of view, the fact that people knew there was going to be a murder beforehand completely changed their view of the situation.

  Was it really okay to tell them that?

  But Ranpo showed no concern for the audience’s worries.

  “However, the angel isn’t what you’re imagining. They said it in the play. The angel was invisible to the characters in the story, but the angel could see everything they did. In other words, the angel was the audience. The audience knew almost exactly what was happening but never laid a hand on the characters onstage. It was a metaphor—it meant the angel couldn’t be the killer. If anything, the angel…was a victim.”

  Ranpo paused. He surveyed the audience while waiting before he revealed the secret, as if he were trying to build suspense. Then he slowly began to walk across the stage toward the crowd. It was theatrical.

  “The murder and the play’s story are connected on a deep level. This play reverse
d the tide of the narrative. A group of fallen angels tried to return to the heavens, but the angel of judgment tried to stop them. Meanwhile, the angel’s judgment was but a show, and the supposed victim, a human, faked it. The angel’s and humans’ roles were reversed, switching the judge and the judged. That’s the kind of play this was. And this structure isn’t any different…”

  After taking in a deep breath, Ranpo continued, “It was applied to the murder itself as well.” He stuck out a finger and pointed at the front-row seats. “As you can see, there is an empty seat here.”

  The audience turned their gaze toward the seat. It was where the gentleman suspect had been sitting before running away.

  “The city police believe that man was the killer and are looking for him. Why? Because he disappeared right after the murder. I mean, it’s only normal to think that the true culprit ran away. But as I mentioned earlier, the narrative is in reverse. Our structures have been swapped along with the victim and killer as well. In other words—he isn’t the killer, but a victim.”

  Thereupon, Ranpo quietly stared into the audience. Nobody said a word. They got lost in what Ranpo was saying, even forgetting to breathe.

  “There is a place in this closed-off theater that not even the police have searched.” Ranpo then turned his back to the audience and started to walk. “Because it’s the worst place for someone who wants to hide. For you see, there would be countless witnesses. Plus, if it isn’t someone who works in the theater, they would stick out like a sore thumb… Just like I am right now. Yes… I am talking about here.”

  Ranpo walked to the very back of the stage where there was a white screen to project the backgrounds onto. Then he tore down the cloth screen without a moment of hesitation.

  “The victim was here all along.”

  The gentleman from earlier was tied up and unconscious on the floor. He’d probably been injected with something. Sweat ran down his pale face, and his closed eyes showed no sign of opening anytime soon. Nevertheless, it appeared he was still alive.