When he worked at the post office, Ma En had to compete with genuine geniuses. He loved learning, thought hard about operational problems — but if not for the fact that he'd arrived first, and that the role only required clearing a minimum threshold, he would have been displaced within months. Those geniuses could deliver work that was genuinely "better than required." And yet, over the years, Ma En had come to feel that his position didn't actually reward excellence. "Just clearing the bar" was more welcome than "exceeding it." The people who performed too well either stayed permanently under his authority or were transferred away within days.

He suspected the reason had to do with scope. Their work touched too many moving parts. Even small fluctuations in output quality rippled outward into larger consequences, and "good" beyond what the system expected didn't slot neatly into the coordination chain — it created unexpected friction. This was especially true during cross-border operations: his people would perform brilliantly on the domestic side, and complaints from the foreign counterparts would actually increase.

He'd hinted at this to his genius subordinates, once or twice, in roundabout ways. They'd stared at him blankly, as if he were speaking a different language, and he'd wondered whether he was being quietly looked down on. To their credit, they did eventually adapt. All in all, none of them were pushovers — but the one in charge had always been him. If not for workplace discipline rivaling a military code, the people below would have staged a mutiny long ago.

It was precisely because his subordinates were so capable that his resignation had gone smoothly. As he'd said — plenty of people had been eyeing his chair.

Reminiscing in a foreign land, Ma En found himself missing those brilliant colleagues.

Now, Japan's post office appeared to lack the Mainland post office's special functions entirely. As for the caliber of Japan's geniuses, he had only Asuka's impression to go by. And based on that impression alone, Ma En felt Japan was better off staying on its own patch of land, focusing on its domestic economy, and not wading into international affairs.

Especially in recent years, when the Imperial Party made political overtures, they invariably invoked how other countries handled things — positioning themselves as natural mediators. Yet their own military existed in name under the Mainland's banner, two-thirds of their weapons and equipment were Mainland-manufactured, and despite being a maritime nation, they couldn't even build large-tonnage warships independently. The economy was growing, yes, but riddled with structural vulnerabilities, propped up by dependence on Mainland population flows. Without the backing of the Red Party International, foreign capital would have stripped them bare — perhaps a slight exaggeration, but Japan, constrained by history and geography, qualified as a developed nation yet lacked sufficient weight in international affairs. At best, they occupied the second row at United Nations sessions.

Put simply: every nation not seated in the UN's front row carried negligible weight in global affairs. Even banded together, they couldn't rival the five permanent seats.

"Ah — we're here! This way, this way." Asuka pointed across the street. Ma En followed her finger and spotted posters displayed in front of a shop entrance. The figure on them was someone he recognized — the hottest young model of the moment, "Terahana," whom Hirota Masami had mentioned the previous evening. Compared to the polished maturity of her magazine spreads, though, the poster version of Terahana wore her hair longer against a backdrop of spring fields in full bloom, the whole image radiating a youthful openness that reminded you she was still a high school student.

"You know Terahana-san, right? The one on the poster," Ma En said.

"Of course I do. All my clothes are coordinated based on her suggestions — how could they possibly be unfashionable!" Asuka was clearly still nursing a grudge.

"You're really into her? You two are about the same age, aren't you?"

"She was voted number one for 'Face You'd Most Want to Have.' I never imagined there could be someone this beautiful in our generation." Asuka's voice brightened with excitement.

"Ever thought you could be prettier than her? A bit of makeup and you'd manage, no?"

"Are you stupid? She's naturally gorgeous — she barely needs makeup to look that good." Asuka shot him a withering look, then bolted toward the crosswalk. "Hurry up, hurry up — the light's about to change!"

The shop Asuka frequented sold not only magazines but also popular novels and textbooks. When the two of them stepped inside, seven or eight customers were already browsing. The interior was nothing like any "magazine stand" or "bookshop" in Ma En's experience. The decor ran in warm coffee-brown tones, elegant without being stiff. An expensive vinyl record player sat beside the counter. Someone had misted the air with perfume — Ma En caught a faint floral scent, something he couldn't identify, though he was certain it hadn't come from any living flower.

The record player was turning out a piano piece that deepened the hush. Customers chatting inside had instinctively lowered their voices; even their footsteps fell lightly. The shop left a sharp impression on Ma En — the kind of impact that came with the realization you'd never see this on the Mainland. Just walking through the door was enough to make you feel good. If you had any money at all, you could come in planning to browse without buying and still find the atmosphere coaxing a purchase out of you. Ma En, at least, already wanted to take something home — magazines, novels, he'd see what caught his eye.

"This place is wonderful," he said quietly to Asuka.

"Right? I'm a regular here." Asuka's tone was all pride. Then, as if to prove it, she made a point of walking up to the counter and greeting someone. The shop floor was spacious. Three uniformed staff members worked the space, name tags pinned to their chests — two young men and a young woman, clearly teenagers, probably high schoolers. The man behind the counter was an adult, not wearing the shop's branded uniform. Everything about his posture and expression gave off a casual, unhurried air. Ma En put him in his mid-thirties — older than himself. He seemed more interested in the record player on the counter than in business.

"Good morning, manager." Asuka bounced a little on her step, expression and posture both edging into what Ma En recognized as deliberate cuteness.

Does she have a thing for this manager?

Her attitude toward him was noticeably different from how she'd treated Ma En.

The manager hadn't noticed customers coming in. Asuka's greeting jolted him out of his reverie — the lazy expression vanished, replaced by a professional smile. Then he registered who it was, and the smile softened into something genuine. He reached for a pair of black-framed glasses beside him and put them on, the frames lending him an air of quiet refinement. "Asuka. No new issue of your favorite magazine today — are you here for books?"

"Magazines too, and books." Asuka waved Ma En over and told the manager, "Look — I brought you a new customer."

The manager turned toward Ma En. Ma En gave him a nod; the manager returned a warm, slight bow.

"Welcome. It's rare for Asuka to bring a friend — let's say twenty percent off." He paused. "This is Asuka's boyfriend, I assume?"

"No way! Absolutely not! Who would want this idiot for a boyfriend!" Asuka made a face of pure revulsion.

"If he's not your boyfriend, then ten percent off," the manager said.

"Wait — what?!" Asuka's voice climbed half an octave, turning wheedling. "You said twenty percent. You can't take it back."

"Ten percent. Bring a boyfriend and it's twenty."

"Fine — then he's my boyfriend. Hey, what do you say?" Asuka spun around to glare at Ma En.

"I'm not called 'hey,'" Ma En said. "I was going to pay for everything you picked out. Now forget it."

"Wait — what?!" Asuka's eyes went wide with shock. A beat later, she snapped to her senses, pressed her palms together in front of her face, and dropped into an exaggerated plea. "Have mercy, Ma En-san. My allowance really isn't much."

The manager and Ma En's eyes met. Neither could help laughing.

"She wasn't nearly this devious at the ramen shop," Ma En said.

"Because of Ma En-san — it is Ma En, right?"

"Right. Ma En."

"Forgive me. I'm Tetsuzou Yuuzou." The manager stood and bowed.

Tetsuzou?

"Hearing that name, you'd expect a muscle-bound tough guy," Ma En said.

"People tell me that a lot. It is 'tetsu' — iron, after all." Tetsuzou Yuuzou's voice never lost its warmth.

"You two — don't just stand there chatting without me." Asuka puffed her cheeks and tugged hard at Ma En's sleeve.

Ma En pulled off his deep red hat and planted it on Asuka's head. She seemed to shrink an inch.

"Asuka's always been quite lively around people she's comfortable with," Tetsuzou said with a smile. "She likes to be spoiled, too."

"I noticed. Though a few minutes ago she wasn't giving me much to work with." Ma En spoke casually, but his gaze slid sideways. He studied the manager and the counter environment with care — assembling, through these few minutes of small talk, through the man's facial expressions and the details of his movements, through the objects arranged around him, a more three-dimensional picture.

"Into vinyl records?" Ma En asked. He had no real knowledge of the medium himself. He'd only heard enthusiasts insist that nothing played music more beautifully than a quality vinyl setup. He couldn't judge the manager's particular machine, but the piano piece was genuinely good — something he'd never heard before, and certainly no famous concerto.

"Ah — that —" The manager blinked, caught off guard. "What was playing just now is actually something I recorded myself. Piano."

"You play?" Ma En nodded slowly. "I can hear it — there's that quality. The composition?"

"Mine as well." A faint flush of embarrassment. "Forgive me — it's nothing worth hearing."

"The manager has real musical talent," Asuka cut in from the side. "I've never understood why you don't become a composer."

"It's just a hobby. As a career, I'm happy with this." Tetsuzou's voice was gentle. "My wife is the one who loves bookshops."

"Ah — you're married?" Ma En asked.

"I am."

"Children?"

"Yes. A boy, two years old, and a girl who hasn't turned one yet."

"That's enviable," Ma En said with polite sincerity.

Tetsuzou Yuuzou accepted the compliment with an easy smile — no false modesty, just quiet contentment. Looking at him, you couldn't help but feel that this was a man whose life had turned out well, and who knew it.

"Asuka — go pick out what you want," Ma En said, turning to her. "I'll pay for everything today, no matter how much."

Asuka blinked. Wrinkled her nose. Pulled the red hat off her head, tossed it back into Ma En's arms, and strode off toward the shelves.

"The two of you are friends?" Tetsuzou asked, his interest mild but genuine.

"Just met recently. I went to her family's ramen shop for breakfast yesterday — we hit it off over ghost stories." Ma En dropped the phrase "ghost stories" deliberately. Two days of coincidences had made him curious whether this bookshop would produce yet another one.

"Ghost stories?" Tetsuzou nodded in recognition. "Asuka does love that sort of thing. Same as my wife. Personally, I have no interest."

"Have you heard of the Room 4 urban legend? Supposedly it's well known around here," Ma En said.

"Ah — that, yes. I've lived in this area over ten years, after all." Tetsuzou nodded. "Kojima Apartment, thirteenth floor, Room 4 — right? Personally, I don't put much stock in it. The police already closed those cases. No curse involved. It's just the number that gets people's imaginations going."

"I'm currently living in Room 4."

"That explains it." Understanding crossed Tetsuzou's face. "Asuka isn't actually the type who makes friends easily. Don't let how lively she is right now fool you — she's quite introverted normally." He held Ma En's gaze. "My wife and I are both very fond of this girl. Please, Ma En-san — don't do anything that would hurt her. I personally don't believe the Room 4 stories, but still — you shouldn't be letting a girl you've just met into that room. Am I wrong?"

"I've spoken with her father about it," Ma En said.

Tetsuzou's words carried an undercurrent, but Ma En wasn't bothered. He'd never had any such intentions to begin with.

"If you're interested in ghost stories as well, you might try those shelves over there — you may find what you're looking for." Tetsuzou hesitated for a beat, then pointed.

"Thanks." Ma En nodded, set the deep red hat on his head, and started toward the shelves — but Tetsuzou called after him.

"...My wife is into this sort of thing, so she's mentioned it to me. If it's Room 4 you're looking into, you might want to visit Sanchoumoku Park. I don't know the specifics myself, but apparently there's a rather well-known supernatural site there."

Ma En's hand moved on instinct, pressing his hat brim lower. He thought: Now this is getting interesting.

Sanchoumoku Park drove into his mental map like a nail.

Maybe the place really was common knowledge as a supernatural hotspot — but Bunkyo District had a large population, and not everyone took an interest in urban legends. Not everyone who did would bring up this particular location by name. Ma En had been in Japan for two days. In that time, Sanchoumoku Park had surfaced again and again, as conspicuous as if someone had taken a highlighter to it across every conversation he'd had.