Tokyo Detective Chronicles

As dusk fell, Fushimi Iori stood before the black wrought iron gate of the Morikawa family's main residence.

This is a secluded hilltop in the port area, at the end of several torii gates, far from the main road. In this bustling metropolis, it is a rare place with little noise.

The towering marble walls, covered in green vines and dotted with scattered white flowers, swayed gently in the breeze blowing from the harbor.

The main body of the mansion can be seen through the gaps in the railings.

An old building that blends Japanese and Baroque styles, with a soaring gray tile roof and Western-style arched windows embedded in a dark wooden structure, and several stone lanterns placed on both sides of the road, not yet lit.

Deeper in, one can vaguely glimpse the flower field that glows with a faint blue light in the twilight.

Even from this distance, Fushimi could smell that unique, cool fragrance.

That was one of the flowers cultivated by the Morikawa family.

From the first time Fushimi came here, he felt that this place was very nice, like a vacation villa prepared by a very tasteful wealthy businessman for his family.

But that's all.

For a family of psychics who have inherited ancient skills, this is clearly too stingy and too poor.

But in the end, putting aside the complicated divisions of the family, the so-called main branch of the Morikawa family now consists of only a brother and sister.

He reached out and rang the doorbell, and within seconds, a servant's voice came through the intercom:

"Lord Fushimi, welcome. The head of the family instructed that you may come in directly."

The heavy iron gate slid open silently.

Fushimi stepped onto the path paved with bluestone, with meticulously manicured garden landscapes on both sides. Moss grew beside a squatting spot, and the bamboo water dispenser occasionally made a crisp "tap" sound.

At the entrance, a beautiful woman dressed in a traditional kimono was already kneeling and waiting.

As Fushimi approached, she bowed deeply, pressing her head completely to the ground.

"Welcome back, Lord Fushimi."

The word "come back" made Fushimi frown slightly, but he didn't correct him, he just nodded:

"Where is your master?"

"The master is waiting for you in the tea room. Please follow me."

Fushimi waved his hand: "I can go by myself."

The middle-aged woman bowed again, but did not insist.

Fushimi took off his shoes and stepped onto the cool, smooth beechwood floor, walking through the corridor.

The mansion was spacious, with old-fashioned chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, casting a dim, yellowish light.

There are several old scroll paintings on the wall, mostly depicting flowers, plants, or hazy landscapes. The brushstrokes are light, yet for some reason, they make one hesitant to look at them for long.

The tea room is located on the east side of the residence, facing the most open side of the courtyard.

The sliding door was open, and the mountain breeze swept through, bringing with it the scent of flowers, plants, and earth from the courtyard, as well as the rustling sound of the bamboo grove.

Then, Fushimi saw the current head of the Morikawa family, Morikawa Kanata.

He was in a wheelchair, and looked to be in his early twenties.

She wore a plain-colored haori hakama, and her long, pure white hair, without a single blemish, was tied back with a black hair tie, with a few stray strands falling beside her cheeks.

His skin was pale from not seeing the sun for a long time, and you could even see the faint blue veins under his skin.

Nevertheless, that face was still stunningly beautiful.

Her features were exquisite, like a doll's, and her eyelashes were white, casting a faint shadow under her eyes.

But what truly captivates the eye are his eyes—eyes that, once seen, are unforgettable…

The iris is a gradient of pinkish-white, like the palest petal of an early cherry blossom, while the pupils are deep and unfathomable, always giving a gentle but lifeless feeling when looking at people.

He was very young, so young that he seemed to have absolutely no connection to the weighty title of "head of the family."

"Yo."

Fushimi entered the tea room, stepped over the wheelchair, and unceremoniously sat down on the cushion opposite him.

"It's only been half a month since I last saw you, and you've already fallen to this state?"

Morikawa Kanata raised her eyes, a very faint smile curving her lips: "Yes, so you came here specifically to see me make a fool of myself?"

"By the way."

Fushimi cut to the chase, pulling a cotton bag containing small bone fragments from his pocket and placing it on the low table between them: "I mainly need your help with something."

His gaze fell on the bag, but he didn't touch it immediately.

He first picked up the teacup in front of him, took a slow sip, and then asked softly:

"What trouble is it this time?"

Fushimi gestured with his chin to the cloth bag containing the bones and briefly recounted the events of the day.

"We must investigate this matter as soon as possible."

The tea room was silent for a few seconds.

The only sound was the faint rustling of a draft through the paper sliding door.

Morikawa Kanata put down his teacup. His fingers were long and slender, but there was a slight unnatural stiffness at the knuckles.

He reached out and untied the cloth bag, then peeked inside.

With just a brief glance, he retied the bag and pushed it back in front of Fushimi.

The voice said calmly, "You want me to use these bones to cultivate a flower that points to cause and effect."

"right."

"Do you know how much effort that takes?"

Kanata raised her pinkish-white eyes and looked at Fushimi:

"Especially for a disabled person like me who is half-dead and half-alive."

Fushimi met his gaze: "Isn't sir the only person I can ask for help in all of Tokyo? Name your price."

The way they said "Your Excellency, Head of the Family" was extremely sarcastic and insinuating.

His words lacked any respect for the head of the Morikawa family, and even less the care and consideration one would show when dealing with a disabled patient.

"You're making an offer... as if you're actually planning to pay me."

She chuckled softly, her laughter low and gentle, yet tinged with a hoarseness from a cough: "Iori, how many years have we known each other? You've asked me for help more than a dozen times in private, and how many times have you paid me?"

"Sigh, one must act with conscience," Fushimi said earnestly.

"The first time, I did give them 100,000 yen..."

Bifang shook his head: "In the next ten or so times, they just tried to fool me with some weird little gadgets."

"Among those gadgets are disposable magical artifacts that can save your life from attacks by Ghost Kings and Demon Lords."

"The Morikawa family doesn't lack that kind of thing... a cripple who never leaves the house wouldn't need it."

He paused, his fingers unconsciously stroking the armrest of the wheelchair.

The topic suddenly shifted to another area:

"Starting a month ago, I completely lost sensation in my lower body. The doctor said how long I have to live? A year? Maybe less. In a while, I'm afraid I won't even be able to move my fingers."

He raised his eyes, his pinkish-white pupils reflecting Fushimi's expressionless face:

"Even in this state, you still want me to risk my life to work for you... Fushimi, do you really consider me a friend?"

"..."

"Does saying this make you feel even a little bit guilty?"

Fushimi was silent for a moment, then reached into a three-tiered lacquer box on the low table, took a piece of yokan (sweet bean jelly), and took a bite.

The sweet red bean paste melts in your mouth.

"Shouldn't they make the most of their remaining energy before it's all gone?"

He mumbled, "Anyway, I don't have many days left to live."

Morikawa Kanata stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing.

It wasn't the faint laugh from before, but a truly hearty laugh, so loud that his shoulders trembled slightly.

After laughing for a while, he had to cover his mouth and cough a few times.

Anyone could see that this body was nearing its limit.

"You really are..." He caught his breath and shook his head. "Fine... I can help you, but on one condition."

"Okay, go ahead."

"Marrying into the Morikawa family..."

The other person spoke very naturally, as if they were discussing the weather:

"Marry Aoi and change your surname to Morikawa. I might make an exception and risk my life for you, my brother-in-law, and besides..."

He paused, his pale pink eyes staring directly at Fushimi, without a trace of a joke:

"After I die, everything in the Morikawa family—the main family's assets, secret treasures, and everything related to [Flower]—will belong to you and Aoi. Isn't that a good deal?"