Chapter 3: Taking the Dead End

“What you just opened wasn’t a box. It was a coffin.”

Masumi Kitamura’s voice was as cold as water at the bottom of a winter well, stripped of any extraneous warmth. My fingers were still pressed against the latch when that whisper exploded like thunder, shattering the frozen air in the room instantly. Masumi’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword at his waist, his knuckles turning white from the strain. His gaze locked死死 on the silver doctor’s badge pinned to my chest, then slowly drifted to the closed blackwood box beside me.

“Mugiyojo Sogichiro, you are now under arrest by the Machi Horyojo (Town Magistrate's Office).”

The moment those words left his mouth, rapid, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. It was the distinctive dull thud of tabi socks on wooden flooring, the rhythm as precise and martial as a drill command in a barracks. Masumi didn’t look at me; instead, he stepped aside half a pace. Two white-clad retainers bearing swords flashed into the room like ghosts, moving with inhuman speed.

They were broad-shouldered and built like tanks, their eyes hard as iron. They flanked me on either side, their swords sheathed but their blades catching the light, casting jagged, fragmented shadows across the black box.

“Why? I was merely assisting in the inspection of a deceased man’s effects. I have broken no laws,” I forced my breathing to remain steady, pressing my tongue against the roof of my mouth to suppress the bitter sweetness rising in my throat. Stay calm. I had to stay calm. As a doctor, I had seen more dying men than I could count on both hands. Right now, my sanity was like a taut bowstring; one tremor and it would snap.

Masumi finally turned his face toward me. His rugged expression was etched with exhaustion and absolute resolve.

“Cremation,” he spat the word out, his voice hoarse, as if he were chewing on a rough piece of grit. “You dragged that ‘sleeping Sogichiro’ back from the mass grave without reporting it, without verifying the identity of the corpse, and you hid it privately. In the eyes of the law, you are an accomplice to sheltering a fugitive.”

“And this box of scrolls? If they indeed belong to the missing courier, you are now suspected of concealing evidence and obstructing the magistrate’s investigation.”

I lowered my eyelids, my gaze falling on the token embroidered with the family crest on Masumi’s waist—the Kitamura badge. A chill suddenly rose in my chest, not from the swords, but from Masumi’s deliberately avoiding eyes. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. This avoidance wasn’t guilt; it was a deeper, more profound powerlessness.

He was afraid. Afraid that the shadows looming behind this case were powerful enough to swallow the very Magistrate's Office he served with such integrity.

“You are mistaken, Lord Magistrate.” I straightened my posture slowly, hands clasped in front of me, respectful but unyielding. “That corpse bore seven old wounds, none of which were fatal. Only the final strike, a precise cut through the heart, ended his life. The technique was brutal and unfamiliar, reminiscent of ninja arts.”

“As a doctor, if I had not attempted to save him or determine the cause of death, that would have been a disrespect to the dead and an injustice to the world. As for those scrolls, they are the last possessions of the deceased, key to his family’s reputation and the mystery of his origins. They are not simply stolen goods.”

Masumi’s brow was furrowed deep. His finger tapped lightly against the sword hilt, making a dull *tok-tok* sound. The retainers behind him had drawn their blades an inch; the cold air coiled around my nose.

“I am not here to debate moralities with you.” Masumi lowered his voice, speaking only to the three of us. “Lord Horiuchi sent a secret decree last night. He claims that manuscript involves the accounting of a massive canal transport debt, with many implications. If you hand over the fragments of the scroll and sign a document confirming the cause of death, your ‘suspicion of hoarding a corpse’ will be cleared.”

“Both you and the abbot of Ono-ji will be spared from involvement.”

Kana Asano had been sitting silently in the corner, her fingers idly picking at the corner of a ledger. Hearing this, she raised her eyes. A complex light flickered in those calculating eyes. She stood up, her skirts rustling softly against the floor, breaking the dead silence.

“Mr. Sogichiro.” Kana’s voice was cool and pragmatic, devoid of emotion. “The terms Lord Horiuchi has offered are indeed sufficient to let us out. If we hand over those fragments of the scroll, we no longer need to worry about the assassins at night. This is the safest path.”

“Safe?” I sneered, my gaze sweeping over her. “If those fragments end up in Horiuchi’s hands, he will control the canal transport ledgers of the escort agency for the past decade. Those buried truths, those lives sacrificed for profit, will sleep in the abyss of darkness forever. That’s not an escape; that’s poisoning the well.”

Kana’s face stiffened slightly, the ledger in her hand developing new creases under her grip. She bit her lip, weighing the pros and cons, but in the end, she offered no rebuttal. She simply fell silent and stepped back a pace, leaving the space to Masumi.

Masumi took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently for a moment. He looked at me, his eyes a tangled web of official duty and personal helplessness.

“Do you think I don’t understand the stakes here?” he growled low, a hint of suppressed breakdown in his voice. “I was ordered to review this case, with the original intention of uncovering the truth. But Horiuchi... the forces behind him are like tangle of kudzu vines, long since wrapped around this land.”

“If I stand my ground, not only will my career be ruined, but the peace of the Ono family and the entire Machi Horyojo will be obliterated. I avoided your gaze because I was afraid to see the consequence-blind persistence in your eyes. It is a mockery of my duty, and a satire of my weakness.”

I walked to the black box and stroked the cold metal latch again. Masumi was right; he was also being coerced. But he hadn’t directly ordered the manuscript taken; instead, he had offered a chance for a “trade.” He was leaving himself a way out, and a thread of life for me.

If I handed over the fragments, he could close the case on the grounds of “determining the cause of death” while keeping his hat on. This was a carefully designed game of chess. If I blindly complied, I would be handing my only lead into the jaws of Sawa Horiuchi.

I had to change the tactic.

“Magistrate Masumi.” I turned, looking directly into his eyes. My pace was slow, but every word struck like a hammer. “You say these fragments relate to canal transport debts, with many implications. Then, please allow me to propose a compromise.”

Surprise flashed in Masumi’s eyes. His hand went back to the sword hilt, though he did not fully sheathe it, the killing intent slackened by half. “Speak.”

“You arrested me because I privately collected a corpse and hid effects. I admit the first part. But for the second part, you have no right to make the final call.”

I pointed at the black box. “What is inside this box is not an ordinary ledger. It records a lost dialect and code of the jianghu (martial world). These codes are the key to unlocking that corpse’s identity, and the only key for you to find the truth behind the courier’s death.”

“If you force-take it, you will get a pile of waste paper. But if you allow me to stay in the temple under your supervision to decode it, I promise that within three days, I will identify the true identity of that missing courier, and the exact location of his death.”

“Three days?” Masumi scoffed, the laughter full of sarcasm. “Sogichiro, you are gambling. Beting on my trust, betting that Horiuchi’s men won’t silence you before then.”

“I am not gambling. I am saving you.” I stepped forward, lowering my voice with an authority that brooked no argument. “Horiuchi wants to monopolize the canal transport profits. He needs a perfect excuse to wipe out all witnesses. If you give him the fragments, he will forge a fake ledger, then declare all those involved have died of illness, completely cutting off the trail.”

“At that point, you will not only fail to investigate the case; you will become an accomplice in his cover-up. But if you give me three days, I can reconstruct the truth of that night ten years ago from the handwriting and the fibers of the paper. Then, no matter who is standing behind Horiuchi, they will have nowhere to hide.”

The air in the room seemed to congeal into solid matter. Masumi stared at me, gauging the veracity of my words. Kana coughed softly nearby, breaking the deadlock.

“Mr. Sogichiro’s words are not baseless,” Kana spoke up, closing the ledger and tapping her finger lightly on the cover. “Those fragments do record a canal transport code called ‘Water Ape.’ This code is known only to the native escorts of this land. The escorts of Horiuchi’s faction mostly came from overseas; they do not understand this system.”

“If we can trace their origins through the code, we may actually find a lead.”

Masumi’s gaze flickered between me and Kana, finally resting on the black box. He seemed to be weighing options: handing it over was a safe, sunk cost; pursuing the investigation was a dangerous bet. But as a magistrate of integrity, the scales in his heart tilted, just slightly, toward the latter.

“Fine.” Masumi finally spoke. His voice was light, but it landed like iron on stone. “I give you three days. But for these three days, you will not leave Ono-ji by half a step. I will send two elite samurai to guard you day and night. If you step out of line by even one percent, or if there are no results by the deadline, I will personally open this box and send it to Lord Horiuchi’s residence, and report you for the crime of fabricating evidence.”

He paused, his gaze sharpening like a blade. “Remember, this is an ultimatum. Within three days, find out that courier’s identity. Tell me where he died, and what he did. If you fail, prepare to face trial in prison.”

I bowed slightly, my forehead touching my hand’s back, my voice firm. “I obey the law of the Magistrate. Three days, not a moment more.”

Masumi exhaled a long, heavy breath, as if unburdening himself of a thousand pounds of weight. He turned to walk toward the door, but stopped at the threshold. With his back to me, his voice dropped so low it was barely audible. “Sogichiro... that corpse... to the very end, he didn’t understand that what he was chasing wasn’t wealth, but his father’s innocence.”

“You had better figure out within three days what exactly he was looking for. Otherwise, he will become just another ghost forgotten by history.”

The door slowly closed behind them, cutting off the wind from outside. Kana gathered her ledger, her expression returning to its usual indifference, though a trace of barely perceptible pity lingered in her eyes. She nodded to me, then followed the retainers out.

The room returned to silence. I looked out the window. Night had deepened; distant lights were like grains of bean, flickering unsteadily, as if a strong wind might snuff them out at any moment. I looked at the black box, my finger tracing the latch again this time. No one was rushing me. No one was watching. I slowly opened the box and took out the yellowed fragment of paper.

The paper was rough, carrying a faint smell of mold—the mark of time. I unfolded the fragment, squinting in the faint candlelight, beginning to decipher the blurred characters. The twisted strokes looked like dead vines, tangled together, waiting to be untangled.

The conditions Masumi had set were like a sword hanging over my head. Three days to identify the courier. This was not only a test of my professional ability, but an interrogation of my conscience. I knew Horiuchi would not sit and wait. These three days would be the most dangerous moment for me. Every second that passed could bring a fatal strike.

But I was not afraid. Fear stems from the unknown, and I knew the truth was hidden within these thin pages. As long as I could read it, I could guard its secret until that night came.