Prologue

Parsed with an automated reader. The content accuracy is not guranteed.

– A certain selected passage of a log from a smart phone.

‘Izaya Orihara? You say you want to meet him? Don’t get me wrong; I do know him pretty well, but I don’t know where he is. I didn’t even know if he was alive or not until just recently. Sounds like he’s still kicking though.

A wheelchair? I guess that makes sense. He was severely injured when I last saw him. Why do you want to see him?’

(Omitted)

‘Izaya solved a case? Several cases all over Japan? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but are you sure the mastermind behind those cases wasn’t Izaya himself? The man Izaya Orihara is not a detective. In fact, he’s the exact opposite.

I don’t mean to imply that he’s the culprit. He definitely has the ability to solve a case when one arises, provided it meets his requirements - as long as he can get the information on the guy responsible, let it be for a murder or a robbery. He apparently has worked with police detectives to aid in the criminal’s arrest a couple times before.

I hear he had been taken into custody when he was a student before...perhaps he got his connections during that time.

Whenever something big happens in the city, in most cases he would go out of his way to meet with the criminal directly, depending on the circumstances. I definitely think he has an insane ability in finding the culprit and uncovering the truth of a case. But this is where he greatly differs from the detectives you see in hard-boiled light novels and classic mysteries.

I said his abilities were impressive. But I’d say his skills are destructive instead of knowledge. First, he doesn’t follow reason. He does not sort through things logically. I’d go so far as to say he lacks morals. Izaya would easily get his hands in crime for his own interests, and depending on the situation, he might help the criminal escape.

I suppose he’d fit the bill for a fiend in that sense. He can mostly accept anything that happens without even a flinch. A murderer could try to kill his family in front of him, and Izaya would ask the killer with a smile: “How do you feel right now?” Almost as though he were chatting with an old friend.

Oh, right. That was just a what-if scenario. His family is still doing fine. Though I can’t guarantee how they’ll fare in the future. Anyway, he’s that level of heretic.

So Izaya Orihara won’t take praiseworthy actions logically, nor will he reason logically either. He just accepts anything that happens, making a face as though everything went as he had predicted. This makes people simultaneously feel frustration as well as fear towards him. That’s why I say he isn’t a detective who solves cases. He’s a clown who corners criminals and victims alike.

He would chase them down while blessing them. He wouldn’t bear any grudge or anger, but just for his own enjoyment he would chase, and chase, and chase them down…he’s a clown who would chase them down and laugh when they fall off a cliff.

Why a clown? Imagine a clown wordlessly standing in front of your room. It would make your heart pound, wouldn’t it? That’s how he chases down people.

Anyone with strong nerves could probably punch that clown fearlessly...but Izaya Orihara would accept even that pain. And he’d make this face as though he saw through everything - like he knew how everything would turn out.

Keep this in mind - even more so if you plan to cause some sort of incident beside him. He may exploit you. However, that’s not because he’s some detective. It’s because Izaya Orihara is a villain. He’ll expose your true self by any means necessary. Honestly, I can’t recommend him. I don’t admire him for causing the cases originally, anyway.

Izaya Orihara is not a detective. He is a mad clown in all respects, a jinx who will drag everyone involved into the swamp.

My roommate and I had suffered the same before. My roommate was his friend and a classmate of the same grade in middle and high school. But that’s irrelevant now. For better or for worse, he doesn’t discriminate against anyone.

Just keep that in mind.’

Prologue: Draft Conference

It was the first week of October, when the last dregs of summer still lingered in the lukewarm humidity. The professional baseball season was entering its final stage, and each stadium was teeming with people's fervor. Ironically, it was this heated enthusiasm that masked the kick off to an incident at one of the stadiums - otherwise, the tepid skin of the body, left lying in a pool of blood in an underground warehouse.

On the outskirts of one of the prefectures was the newly made baseball stadium, Summer Tile – its official name the Natsugawara Baseball Stadium - which was completed only five years ago. It was a large-scale baseball stadium capable of accommodating forty thousand people, including the standing rooms, under its automatic opening and closing roof. The baseball stadium was directly administrated by the company of the baseball team the Natsugawara Serpents and was an entertainment business facility expected to be moving a considerable amount of money just by the advertisement income taken from the brand new diamond vision screen.

A match under a double header was held on this day, and all eyes were drawn to the Serpents' slugger Shirou Munakata, anticipating how he would fare in the second match after succeeding in making two consecutive home runs in the first game. On top of Munakata’s competition for the home run champion, the whole team was also competing to come out top of the league, creating an unusual fervor, with more than 30,000 people crammed together in the stadium to watch the spectacle.

And just as the second night-time game was about to commence, there had been a development.

“What on earth…?”

The stadium’s head of security - Chiaki Furou - stood stock still in a storehouse underground.

At first, he thought someone had gotten lost and passed out from intoxication on the ground. However, the moment he flashed his light over the area he was greeted with the sight of glistening red blood splatter, immediately followed by a metallic stench that assaulted his senses, dragging him to reality.

“...”

A corpse.

He knew the flame of life had already been extinguished without even needing to check for a pulse. There was a knife lodged into the center of its back. The body was lying face-down, its business suit in tatters. There were blood stains across its whole body, giving him the impression it had sustained relentless, continuous stab wounds.

The first thought that crossed Fudou’s mind was to naturally report this to the police or call for emergency aid. However, the eruption of cheers he heard from afar - presumably due to the appearance of the baseball players in the stadium - stopped his train of thought.

“First, I have to…contact...”

The forty-year-old or sum man in charge of security prioritized contacting his superior over reporting to any public organization. He took this course of action as he realized how dire the situation was, especially considering why he was down here to begin with.

At present the professional baseball night game had just commenced a couple meters above on the field. Not only was it a crucial match for the championship, there were easily more than thirty thousand people crammed in the stadium, occupying even the standing room. Having gained his position as the head of security through connections and flattery with the baseball team management than experience, the man did not have the courage to insight a mob of thirty thousand by his report.

Having gained his position as the head of security through connections and flattery with the baseball team management than experience, the man did not have the courage to insight a mob of thirty thousand by his report.

Once Fudou reported to his superior over the radio he was first ordered to check the body’s pulse to see if it was truly dead.

He did not want to touch the body, but it would not sit well with him on the off chance it was somehow alive and he left it to die. So, he tentatively approached it. Although he did not want to, he especially did not want to incur his superior’s wrath even more so.

He felt the urge to throw up when he heard the splash from his shoes stepping in blood. Yet Fudou forced down the rising gastric fluid in his throat and pressed a hand to the nape of its neck. He did not feel any warmth from it, its elastic skin having hardened to that of tepid leather.

There was no pulse as he had expected, finally ascertaining that it was without a doubt a corpse. Fudou, however, could not have cared for its significance as he swallowed down the gastric acids with teary eyes.

After reporting that the body lying in the pool of blood was a corpse, he was ordered to be on standby, leaving him tense in the company of the dead. Fudou turned his gaze from the body, having decided to leave further decisions to his superior, when he had a sudden realization: Hold on. Will I be considered a suspect? Shit...I stepped in the blood...Should I wipe away the footprints and get rid of these shoes…? But then one wrong move and the police will treat me as the-

Just as he thought how to convince everyone he was not the culprit in this farce, it dawned on him. The...culprit?

It was clear as day to even the untrained eye that the corpse had been murdered. Meaning there was the possibility the killer could still be in this room. The obvious possibility must have not occurred to him due to the shock from discovering the body. But it only did just now.

Fudou flung his pocket light left to right, meaninglessly flashing light around the room when the warehouse’s lights worked. However, he did not sense any other presence no matter how many times he examined the warehouse. The weapon was lodged into the body’s back, but that did not eliminate the possibility that the killer had any other weapons on them.

Upon careful inspection of the room, Fudou noticed something sticking on the shelf next to the body. A long passage of characters one would think are printed from a computer are on the paper fixed on that steel-made shelf with a magnet.

“...?”

Curious of what was written, he approached it fearfully, glancing back to the body from his peripheral vision, when the doors of the warehouse burst open.

“Aaaah!”

Fudou went completely rigid, and he jumped. Standing behind him were a couple faces he knew. The man in the middle of the group - either in his late twenties or early thirties - ignored Fudou's shriek and headed towards the fallen body in the center of the room. He stared at the corpse lying face down, looking at its side profile, and muttered its proper name, “Amagi, huh…”

The man confirmed the identity of the now unrecognizable subordinate and frowned. But nothing more. He did not show any other emotion, merely analyzing the body's condition with an attitude of indifference His eyes were like glass beads for mechanical puppet, lacking any human compassion even more so than the lifeless corpse.

Watching the man, Fudou whispered with a voice mixed with relief and fear, “Ex-Executive...Takioka…”

Ryuusei Takioka. He was appointed as a top official that arguably rivaled those even in the baseball team's management company, as he was in charge of managing all operations within Summer Tile. He stood out within one of Japan's leading conglomerate companies, the Natsugawara Group, as someone near only thirty years old. His features possessed a sort of dignity of someone desiring absolute control. In truth, he possessed a couple of titles among the group and baseball team company, but many around him refer to him as ‘the executive’ out of fear.

Just then, a woman poked her head out from behind Takioka, curiously gazing at the body with intrigue in her eyes.

“Oh my, it really is Amagi-san. Is he dead? It sure looks like he is, doesn't he?”

“Tamae, stand back.”

Seeing that woman here, Fudou felt a foreboding that this murder incident would become a serious matter.

Tamae Takioka was Ryuusei’s younger sister, and a woman working as his secretary. However, Fudou knows she was a central figure of the intelligence supervision department collecting all personal information from the members of the baseball team company to the players of the team. In another sense, she was a ‘woman you must not make an enemy of’ more than the executive Ryuusei, but at the fact that she came to this place where the body was made Fudou feel a sense of impending danger that overcame his sense of discomfort.

This did not seem to be just a murder case. And in actuality, Fudou also had many ideas about the possibility of it not being a normal murder case.

“Fudou, the reason why you came here was to pick that up, right?”

Fudou came to his senses and nodded his head vigorously.

“Y-yes.”

“Is that so. Then the vital that is safe?”

“Ah…”

Fudou rushed into the center of the warehouse in haste. After commanding his subordinates behind him to stand by, Ryuusei slowly glared around the inside of the warehouse.

“It has gotten interesting, hasn’t it, nii-san. For a murder to happen in the middle of your theater.“

Hearing his sister snickering at him, Takioka answered while squaring his shoulders.

“Whether an incident happens or not is something I decide. Depending on the situation, I’ll have you put to work too.”

As he said that, he noticed the paper pinned to the shelf, approached it while avoiding the blood and reached a hand out towards it. And then seeing what was written, he snorted.

“I see. How amusing.”

“Amusing?”

One subordinate behind him frowned, so Takioka summarized what was written on the paper with a smile like a child trampling on an insect.

“It seems we were threatened.”

“Threatened…?”

“If I cannot accept the request, it seems people will die during the game at the stadium hereafter. It isn’t stated which game it is, but if the culprit figured out that we found the body, then it’s possible it will be this game.”

“Wha-...”

Takioka did not bring up the details of the request. And seeing Takioka’s attitude, his subordinates kept their mouths shut. Only Tamae asked her brother with a snicker.

“Then is this the work of a professional? Or is it the work of an amateur who learned of that by chance?”

She squinted a little and added with a voluptuous smile.

“Or...is it the work of a traitor among us?”

“It doesn’t matter which. When you look at the place he politely warned us of, he would probably plan for half of the game too.”

“A warning?”

“Both of the team’s benches and bull pens, the VIP seat, the wheelchair zone and the stroller zone, the network’s special seats. The camera seats for the journalists. And my executive office… Haha, it seems from here on out the victims will be chosen at random. He won't leave the bodies conspicuously hidden so they could be found though, aside from my office.”

After shrugging with self-derision, Ryuusei turned back towards his sister.

“There is a possibility the culprit is somewhere in those notified places. Can you bring up the footage of those areas?”

“Alright, just wait a bit.”

Tamae operated her tablet. She received the data conducting the original cipher processing from the independent server in the stadium, and the footage from the hidden cameras were shown on her tablet.

“...Have the number of cameras increased?”

“There still isn’t enough. I prepared them so normal visitors cannot find them, so don’t worry.”

The hidden camera footage covered everything in the baseball stadium from the guest seats to the passageways. Among those, the footage showed the previously mentioned VIP seat and special seats and even both the benches for the teams in the midst of the game.

At that point, Fudou came back.

“Executive, it was safe. There were no traces of it being open or the vault itself being found. I checked the inside of it too, and it was safe.”

“Is that so. If that’s the case, then the reason why Amagi died is because he was killed at the end of his torture since he did not know its safekeeping or how to open the safe for that….perhaps.”

Nodding his head in understanding, Ryuusei asked Tamae again.

“Yeah, sorry about this while you’re working, Tamae. But are there any bugs or hidden cameras installed here?“

“I checked them all up until here, but the cameras we installed changed to just still images. The route from the third exit of the stadium to this warehouse is completely messed up. So really, is it a professional’s work?”

“Yeah, don’t think so. I don’t mean just the cameras we set up, but if the culprit also put one of his own in.”

“Wait a minute.”

Tamae pointed to the subordinates behind them and indicated for them to check the room with the personal tools. She answered after working for a few minutes.

“…Yeah. It seems like it. At least, I can’t locate any electromagnetic waves dispatching from here to outside.”

“Is that so? Then that’s good.”

Ryuusei put on a triumphant smile, and from there he slowly approached Amagi’s corpse and –

drove in a kick with the tip of his shoe into the face of his dead subordinate.

“Hee...!”

Fudou unconsciously yelped but almost immediately held back the sound from fully escaping his throat. Tamae watched her brother’s atrocity with a large grin plastered on her face, and the other subordinates watched the executive repeatedly kick the body several times over with varying expressions, but not one person tried to stop him.

“What the hell were you doing...Amagii…! You worthless bitch!”

Ryuusei relentless drove in more kicks as he raised his voice.

“For dirtying! My theater! My stage! With your fresh blood!”

The same time he cut off his words he delivered another kick and continued to warp the dead body’s face more even though it should be impossible to do so. Then, he trampled on his face with his blood stained shoe and crushed his temple like extinguishing the flame of a cigarette as his voice resonated with utter resentment.

“Couldn’t you have at least simultaneous killed each other? How about leaving just one clue by gouging out a piece of his flesh! Or at least running away to a place safe from the cameras before receiving the final blow!”

A few minutes later.

The body was lying down in the middle of the room, its arms and legs irregularly bent in different directions, and its face no longer having any trace to its original form. The knife that was embedded in its back had fallen out already, and it turned into some cruel situation that would be mistaken as someone beaten to death rather than stabbed to death or run over repeatedly by a car as seen by an outsider.

Ryuusei asked Tamae indifferently as he wiped the blood from the underside of his shoes with a handkerchief.

“How is it? Is there anyone we know here tonight?”

“Hiura-san came as tonight’s special guest in the VIP seat. The rest…are several entertainers who came incognito in the box seats. That’s about it. The one that stands out is -”

“How is the game?”

“It just started. The lead-off man has made the first hit, so if there is no double play it will be Munakata’s turn at the bat soon.”

Ryuusei discussed the progress of the baseball game with his sister with a composed expression. Fudou instantly forgot the fear that there was a dead body present, seeing his superior's behavior. Ryuusei looked down at the deformed body of Amagi with a pitiful look that was the complete opposite from several minutes before.

“Even so, how terrible…What was Amagi even doing. In such a pitiful state, we won’t be able to show him to his family.”

As if he commanded the intention behind those words, several men waiting around the vicinity of the entrance came in. They appeared to be cleaners of a fashion, and the men completely dressed in waterproof garments like rubber gloves and long boots surrounded the body.

“Handle the body with care. Although he is dead, don’t forget your respects. The moment you forget respect people become monsters. I’ll never forgive anything like that.”

“Alright, Nii-san. Leave the rest to us.”

Hearing his sister in an agreement with him, Ryuusei shrugged his shoulders and continued.

“It turned into a sad outcome, but shouldn’t we at least pray for Amagi’s happiness in the next world? Munakata’s home run today is surely the condolence for Amagi-kun. He was a wonderful subordinate. He really devoted himself for us.”

“Y-yeah.”

Fudou desperately tried to not show any emotion, although shaken to the core internally, and nodded. Ryuusei gave him a gentle smile.

“I won’t forgive the person who did that to Amagi-kun. We have to catch him no matter what. For Amagi-kun’s sake…That’s right! It’s also for Amagi-kun’s sake! You think so too, right? Fudou-kun.”

“Y-yes.”

Guessing on the meaning of the man’s words, Fudou felt he reached a point he could not return from. The silent cleaning of the body behind him indicated that they had no intention of getting the police involved on the case. And Fudou was a person on the side who understood why the police could not get involved.

“If he is planning to continue incidents during this game, the suspect may be among the 35,000 people in the stadium right now. No, there are still people coming in. In the end, there may be a possibility of more than 40,000 people. And that someone is a murderer who will kill without hesitation.”

“...”

“At the same time, it means that the people who could become victims could surpass 30,000. It is impossible to guard every single person. It’s almost like it’s a draft conference. You have to decide who to protect by predicting who your opponent will designate.”

Ryuusei placed a hand on Fudou’s shoulder, who was turning more pale than when he found the body at the mention of the numbers, and dug his finger in roughly with a smile on his face.

“It’s alright. No matter if it’s 30,000 people or four people, as long as it is in this stadium everyone is just dressed up presenters on my stage. They cannot go against the director, nor will they.”

After proclaiming such arrogant words that look down on both presenters and audience members alike, the man playing the role of director spread open his hands with a smile of pure killing intent.

“That’s right! Everything is a show! It’s not something difficult to think about. This stadium is the space for dreams separated from society! It is a dream itself! It has to be! Isn’t that right?”

“…Y-yes, that’s right!”

“Which are you? Michiaki Fudou. Are you a puppet manipulated on the stage without understanding its meaning? Or are you a human ‘on this side’ who pulls the strings from above under my directions?”

“Of course I am move according to your motives, a-a person who pulls the strings!”

Not understanding what half of the man was saying, Fudou shouted this due to the overpowering influence emitted from the man. Perhaps hearing his words made him relieved. Ryuusei nodded deeply and patted Fudou’s back thoroughly.

“Amazing. You are the best staff. You are not an actor who moves strictly based off the script. You are an existence capable of looking down on the stage from such heights.”

“Th-thank you.”

“I’ll put you in the third investigative division.”

“…..!”

The third investigative division.

The moment he heard the term, Fudou lost all color to his face.

It was because he knew. That the unofficial division was responsible for all the dirty work in the darkest sides of this stadium. They usually concealed themselves as workers in every division from janitors to beer sales vendors, but they were professional killers who move according to Ryuusei’s orders in emergency situations.

Fudou understood what Ryuusei desired, realizing the implications of working with such a group. He was saying to catch the culprit and kill him under Fudou’s hand.

“We should remind them, shouldn’t we? The stupidity of picking a fight with us in this theater.”

The curtains for the case silently opened like this. With the audience of more than 30,000 people not realizing the beginning of a tragedy. Anyone could be the culprit. An impure air settled around Ryuusei and his group who were the intended victims of this case. However, the wounds on the corpse showed their lack of sportsmanship.

At this point the Natsugawara baseball stadium would change to a pandemonium mixed with the rotten smell of desire.

However, they did not know.

Not the executive who put on airs for the theater, nor the murderer who caused the incident. That in the ‘theater’ Summer Tile which became the stage of a tragedy there was one irregularity who was neither a stage actor or a performer but a simple guest in one regard mixed up with the event.

“Hmmm…there are plenty of people in the wheelchair space...What’s this?“

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. It’s just there seems to be a rather wealthy person that came.”

“Wealthy?“

Ryuusei knitted his brows in confusion, peaked at the monitor screen and saw a man on it. The man, despite being across the monitor, was clad in a ominous presence. He had glossy black hair and black clothes. The eyes on his arranged face shone with an intellectual glow yet he could not grasp what he was thinking.

What is this man watching?

Ryuusei, while rotten, was the administrator of the baseball stadium. He understood immediately that the young man was not watching the game. But he could not fathom what it was he was watching from the monitor screen. If there was any specialty to note it was that he was sitting in a wheelchair along the personal use space, and there was a butler-like elderly man standing next to him keeping an eye on the area around them more than the game itself.

Is this old man…some kind of professional?

Ryuusei came to the impression that the man was not your run-of-the-mill guy, but Tamae was focused on a completely different aspect.

“The wheelchair that man is in is a new electrical model made from a carbon-fiber material. It’s the best product made by a foreign producer, so I think the price is roughly more than 3,000,000 yen. The person next to him seems to be a butler rather than family, so he may be some rich person’s kid.”

“Well now…If he is from a wealthy family, then we should have him watch from the VIP seat inside next time.”

Ryuusei gained a little bit of interest in the man, so thinking there was no need to fuss in a situation without positive proof he turned his gaze away from the man projected on the tablet screen. The screen quickly changed to another footage from the hidden cameras, and the man in the wheelchair was temporarily left as one piece of information out of the 40,000 people in the back of his mind.

Without realizing that him being here in this baseball stadium was the worst coincidence to the people concerned in the case.

Translation Notes:

The term used in the very first line, 上旬, refers to the first ten days of a month. We do not have a specific term in English like this, so the translation is more generalized as “the first week of October.”

The price of the wheelchair was not converted from yen value as I am uncertain exactly when this story is taken place. Perhaps late 2000s and early 2010s.

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Translation: Kaede726

Reposts are prohibited and should be exclusive to Kaede726 on blogger.

Illustrations provided by: Soutenkyuu

Support the Official Release: Raws can be purchased at

BookWalker.jp and Amazon.jp

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