Souvenir - Chapter 9.3

“The mentor you hired. Suu went to them for help.”

“That’s… impossible.”

My mind went black.

Suu was gone.

And with her, everything inside me turned hollow and dark.

Childhood Memories

As a child, I often played alone in the yard.

I had wanted a dog, but my mother hated them, so I never got one.

Instead, my playmates were the insects hiding in the garden or the occasional squirrel that wandered in.

I had been warned not to touch the squirrels, so I simply watched from a distance.

That day, it had rained non-stop, so I played indoors.

Both my parents were out.

Being alone was nothing new to me.

Among my mother’s belongings, there were several items she had brought from Japan.

One of them was a small aluminum toy duck.

You inserted a long metal rod into its side, twisted it several times, and then the duck would flap around energetically.

There was also a pull-string toy shaped like two monkeys holding drums.

When you pulled the string, they swung side to side, clanging the drums together with a metallic clank, clank.

And then, inside a round pouch, there was a collection of shimmering, flat glass beads.

I particularly liked those.

I would take them out, hold them up to the light, and play with them by flicking them together.

What were they called again?

Ah, yes—Ohajiki.

They were beautifully colored.

But there were two black ones among them.

I couldn’t remember if they had always been there or if they had come from somewhere else.

Unlike the others, these two were nearly twice as large, with smooth, convex curves.

I was captivated by them.

When I held them in my hands, they had a certain weight.

Although they were pitch black, they had a translucent quality, as if I might be pulled into their depths.

And then, within those beads—I saw someone staring back at me.

The gaze was unsettling.

Like a deep-sea creature, living only in the abyss.

At times, they looked at me with hostility.

At others, they seemed as if they wanted to be my friend.

They simply observed me from the darkness, their expression caught between conflicting emotions.

A Silent Companion

After school, when I played alone, I would always take out those beads.

And I would talk to the figure within them.

It spoke back—not aloud, but in my mind.

When I told it about school, it gave me advice on studying and making friends.

I followed its suggestions, and my grades improved.

I was grateful.

Over time, I shared more and more.

It became my closest friend.

But there was one thing it hated—talking about family.

Just like me, it despised any mention of “Father.”

It told me that its father had secrets.

And that my father did too.

“I know your father’s secret.”

It whispered this to me one day.

It promised to tell me—just me.

But I didn’t want to hear it.

I felt betrayed and stopped talking to it for a while.

When I came home one day, I found the bead on my desk.

Even though I had left it in a bag.

Shocked, I stared into its depths.

It gazed back, its expression grave.

“Your father stopped loving your mother because of you.”
“And that’s why he could never love you, either.”

Rage surged through me.

I grabbed it and stormed into the backyard.

I threw it.

Stomped on it.

Slammed it against the walls of the house.

Again and again.

Yet it remained unscathed.

I smashed it against the concrete—hundreds of times, frenzied.

And finally, it cracked.

From the fissure, a black liquid seeped out.

Like ink.

Like tears.

A single drop landed on my cheek.

When I wiped it away, it smeared—like diluted ink.

The once-warm stone had gone cold.

Darker than ever before.

I picked it up.

Ran my fingers over its surface.

And apologized.

Before I knew it, I was crying too.

After that, I hid it somewhere in my room.

And as time passed, I forgot where.

I forgot about it entirely.

Until now.

Why am I remembering this now?

Does it still remember me?

I think back to the days when I was alone in an empty room.

Even now, I have always been alone.

As I sat in the cold, sterile room, dwelling on these thoughts, a new investigator entered.

Unlike the others, he had sharp, discerning eyes and didn’t immediately treat me as a suspect.

“You mentioned that your memory of the incident is unclear. Let’s try a different perspective.”

He took a slow breath before continuing.

“However, the crime scene and the weapon both have your fingerprints on them. For now, let’s proceed under the assumption that this is a missing person’s case.”

“Before your daughter disappeared, did you notice any changes in her behavior?”

“I don’t remember much… I did confess to her that adopting her was a lie.”

“You mean regarding your guardianship?”

“Yes. I wanted her to decide for herself whether she wanted to be officially adopted as family when she turned seventeen.”

“And she refused?”

“No, she was happy. She cried with joy. But…”

“But?”

“She seemed… absent-minded. I thought she was just surprised by my confession.”

“Did she seem afraid of something?”

“Afraid? Afraid of what?”

“I don’t know. But it appears that something significant changed for her at that moment.”

The man had naturally dark brown hair, dyed a shade lighter.

It was cut shorter than mine, and the inside remained undyed, a deep shade.

His features carried a hint of Asian descent—perhaps he was a quarter.

His light green eyes stood out, piercing yet thoughtful.

When he tilted his head, I caught a glimpse of a piercing.

And his English had a distinct German accent.

“At that time… I think Suu was organizing her shelves.”

“What was in them?”

“I wasn’t entirely sure, but she called it her ‘treasure box’.”

He paused for a moment, fixing his gaze on me.

“I don’t think you are capable of murder.”

Unlike the other investigators who had interrogated me—who all looked at me with contempt, as if I were some deranged pedophile—he did not.

There was no disgust in his eyes.

For the first time, I felt a sliver of trust toward someone in this place.

“Can you recall the events in more detail?”

“I had worked late that day and rushed home. Suu didn’t come to greet me as she always did. Feeling uneasy, I hurried to her room… and when I entered, I saw the bed covered in bl00d. I was so shocked I collapsed to the floor. My hand brushed against something hard, and when I looked, I saw something glinting in the light from the window. I instinctively picked it up, realizing only later that it was a knife.”

“Then, shortly after, the police arrived due to a report of loud noises?”

He continued taking notes, his left hand moving steadily across the paper.