# Episode 3: The Smartphone in the Box
My sister's ringtone was coming from the cardboard box outside my door.
It was the song Kasumi had used until five years ago. My sister hated mornings, and she'd chosen the shrill electronic tune with a laugh, saying, “With this, you'll wake up whether you like it or not.”
I stood three steps away from the door, staring at the call screen that had already gone dark.
The number it had called was definitely my sister's old number. But no name appeared in the call history. Someone could have been using a number reassigned to them after it was canceled, pretending to be my sister. That would explain it.
Except for the fact that even her vocal quirks had been identical.
The ringtone from the box stopped.
After the silence, a message arrived on my smartphone.
〈Don't open the box. Don't let the police touch it, either.〉
The message had come from my sister's number.
〈Who are you?〉
〈Kasumi〉
〈My sister died five years ago.〉
The message was marked read.
〈I know. I'm not your sister.〉
My fingers froze.
〈Then why do you sound like her?〉
There was no reply.
Instead, a notification arrived from the account claiming to be my wife.
〈Article Three has been disclosed.〉
I opened the instruction manual.
Article Three.
〈Even if the phone inside a box from him rings, you must not answer it.〉
A warning that had come too late.
I hadn't opened the box, but I'd already called the same number from my own smartphone. Did that count as “answering” it?
〈I already called it.〉
When I sent that, my wife replied.
〈If you were the one who called, there's still time.〉
〈Time for what?〉
〈When it rings next, don't make a sound.〉
An electronic tone rang outside my door.
The second call.
I covered my mouth with my hand. The sound inside the box kept ringing, as if someone were urging it on.
Eventually, it seemed to switch to voicemail. A short beep echoed through the hallway, and then I heard my own voice coming from inside the cardboard box.
『Kasumi...?』
It was replaying the call from earlier.
『Mio. I've been telling you since you were little not to touch white flowers, haven't I?』
A sound I hadn't heard during the call followed.
A man's voice.
『That completes the identity verification.』
It sounded like Ren.
I moved away from the hallway and backed up to the side of my bed.
The intercom rang.
Two uniformed police officers appeared on the screen. I unlocked the building's front entrance on the first floor, then explained the situation without opening my door.
“Someone left a suspicious box outside my door. A phone is ringing inside it.”
The older officer answered through the door.
“We'll check it out. Please move away from the entrance.”
I opened the door slightly with the door chain still on, and the officers showed me their IDs. The younger one took pictures of the box and put on gloves.
My wife's warning flashed through my mind.
〈Don't let the police touch it, either.〉
“Wait.”
Both men turned at the sound of my voice.
“Maybe you shouldn't touch it.”
“It could be something dangerous. Leave it to us.”
It sounded reasonable. I should trust the police over an anonymous account.
The younger officer cut the tape.
A shipping label printed with my name and address was affixed to the side of the cardboard box. The sender field was blank. Only the date and time it had been accepted were listed.
August 16, five years ago, at 10:42 p.m.
“This date on the label is wrong.”
The older officer took a picture.
“Maybe someone reused an old box.”
“But the address is my current apartment. I moved here two years ago.”
Five years ago, I hadn't even known this apartment existed.
Even when we searched for the shipping company's logo, nothing matching it came up. There was a company with a similar name, but some of the characters were different.
When the younger officer tilted the box slightly, something hard slid around inside.
“Judging by the weight, it doesn't seem to be an explosive.”
“I think it's a phone.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard it ringing inside.”
“Who was calling?”
I told them my sister's number. One of the officers entered it into his device and waited for the results.
“This number isn't currently in use.”
I'd definitely been able to make a call only minutes earlier. When I explained that, the two officers exchanged a look.
The older officer asked in a low voice,
“Have you been getting enough sleep lately?”
They suspected me. I showed them my call history.
But the record of my call to my sister's number had vanished. In its place, there was a single call listed as having an unknown recipient.
The call had lasted thirty-two seconds.
More than ten seconds longer than the conversation I remembered.
What had been recorded during those missing ten seconds?
There was only one black smartphone inside the box.
There was no padding and no letter. It was an old model, with fine cracks across the screen.
“Do you recognize this?”
The moment the officer picked it up, the smartphone rang.
The name displayed was “Mio Fujisaki.”
It showed an incoming call from me.
“I didn't call it.”
The officer turned the screen toward me and pressed the answer button.
“Hello. This is the police.”
Through the static, I heard a woman crying.
『Help me. Ren is going to kill me.』
It was my voice.
The younger officer's expression changed.
『The hotel in Hakone. Tomorrow night, Ren—』
The audio cut out, and the call ended.
“It's a recording,” I said. “I was supposed to go to Hakone with Ren tomorrow. But I'm not going.”
“Where is Ren Asakura now?”
“I don't know. He was here until a little while ago.”
The older officer began making inquiries over the radio. The younger officer tried to put the device into an evidence bag.
Just then, the elevator opened.
Nana came running out.
“Mio!”
I'd told her not to come alone, but she headed toward my apartment, breathing hard. The officers stopped her, and she finally came to a halt.
“She's my friend. I called her.”
After confirming her identity, Nana entered the apartment. I locked the door, and it was only when I saw her face that I could breathe a little easier.
“It was Takase.”
When I showed her the video recording, Nana went pale.
“No mistake. But why was he dressed like a deliveryman?”
“Our meeting was arranged, too. Takase knew about my sister.”
I showed her the old party photo.
Nana zoomed in on the white-flower pendant and knitted her brows.
“I've seen this woman before.”
“Where?”
“On the day of the dinner gathering. After we left the restaurant, she was standing across the street. She was watching Ren, so I thought she was someone he knew.”
“Do you remember her face?”
“She was thinner than in the photo. But it was the same person.”
According to the newspaper article, Kasumi Asakura had died five years ago.
If the woman in the photo was the same person, then Nana couldn't possibly have seen her three months ago.
“Maybe this is the woman claiming to be his wife.”
“But there's something else that's strange.”
Nana pointed to the background of the party photo.
The clock on the wall read 8:10. According to the article, the event had been held on August 17 five years ago—the day after Kasumi Asakura died.
“A picture taken after she died?”
“The date on the photo could be wrong. But this company's anniversary is on the same day every year. All its other posts are dated August 17, too.”
The obituary, the party photo, and my sister's fall. Three dates lined up one day apart.
August 15: My sister died.
August 16: Kasumi Asakura died.
August 17: Kasumi Asakura, who was supposed to be dead, attended a party.
And today was August 17 again.
I showed her the picture of the marriage license.
Nana stared at the screen for a while, then enlarged the edge of the document with her finger.
“Isn't something wrong with this date?”
The filing date was July 10 five years ago. It appeared to be fine.
“The bottom right. The acceptance stamp.”
A faint red stamp bore this year's date.
That meant a marriage license from five years ago had been accepted this year.
Was something like that even possible?
“A fake?”
“Or someone made it with a date from five years ago and filed it recently.”
The police officer knocked on the door.
“Ms. Fujisaki, there's something we'd like to confirm.”
I answered through the chain, and the older officer stood there with a grim expression.
“There is no one named Ren Asakura registered as a resident at the applicable address. And the company you gave us as his workplace has no employee by that name.”
“That can't be.”
I searched for his business card. I pulled out the card Ren had given me from my wallet.
The company name, address, and phone number. When the officer checked them, they belonged to a different company.
In the three months we'd been together, I'd never been to Ren's home. I'd never met him near his workplace, either. He had always chosen where we met.
“Then who was I dating?”
The officer didn't answer.
They said they would take the box and the device as evidence, then left.
The moment I closed the door, a DM arrived from my wife.
〈You gave the phone to the police.〉
〈They were real police officers.〉
〈I'll disclose Article Four.〉
One section of the blacked-out instruction manual became visible.
Article Four.
〈If you consult the police about him, do not trust the first two officers who arrive.〉
I hurried to look through the peephole.
The two police officers had stopped at the far end of the hallway.
The older man took off his hat.
When Nana saw the face beneath it, she gasped.
“Takase...”
The younger man took the black smartphone out of the evidence bag and turned the screen toward us.
The caller's name was “Mio Fujisaki” again.
This time, my smartphone inside the apartment began to ring.