The phone ringing inside the apartment was my smartphone.
In the hallway, “Fujisaki Mio” was also displayed on the black device held by the fake police officer.
A call from the same person was coming in on both phones at the same time.
Nana grabbed my arm.
“Don’t answer.”
I rejected the call. The device in the hallway went silent at the same time.
Takase looked up at us through the peephole. Even though he shouldn’t have been able to see me, I felt as if our eyes met.
The younger man took off his uniform jacket. A patch resembling a police insignia had been sewn onto the shoulder. The two men picked up the box and disappeared down the emergency stairs.
I called the real police.
When I told them the names and affiliations of the two men who had come earlier, they said they hadn’t dispatched any such officers. There was a record of the call itself, but no officers had arrived.
“We’re sending official officers to you now. Lock the door and wait.”
When I hung up, a DM arrived from my wife.
<Their goal isn’t to hurt you.>
<Then what is it?>
<To register your voice in the phone inside the box.>
That was the reason behind Article Three’s warning: “You must not answer the phone.”
<What happens once it’s registered?>
<The phone will be able to generate the words you speak in your voice.>
The voice that had just played, saying, “Ren will kill me,” hadn’t been spoken by me. It was a fake created from a thirty-two-second call.
<To create fake emergency calls or a fake will?>
<That’s not all. If it’s your family, they’ll open the door when they hear your voice.>
I showed Nana the screen as well. She checked her own smartphone and warned her family.
“But why did they take the box?”
“Maybe they didn’t need it anymore because they got your voice.”
Something still felt wrong. Takase and the others had put the device in an evidence bag and carried it away. If recovering it had been their goal, there would’ve been no reason to make me open the box in the first place.
I reviewed the recording from outside the front door.
After Takase opened the cardboard box, the younger man removed something besides the black device. A transparent bag about the size of a fingertip. Even when enlarged, I couldn’t tell what was inside.
Just before that, I had seen a silver glint at the bottom of the box.
“Isn’t this a pendant?”
Nana pointed it out.
It was my sister’s keepsake, shaped like a white flower. It was identical to the one worn by the woman in the party photo.
What Takase and the others had stolen wasn’t the phone.
It was my sister’s pendant.
“Why carry it all the way to my door, only to steal it again?”
“Maybe they needed Mio to find it.”
“I didn’t see it. I didn’t even open the box.”
“But it was brought all the way here.”
Nana’s words made me realize something.
The shipping label on the box was dated five years ago, but the address was for my current apartment. Maybe what they needed was the fact itself that the pendant had been “delivered to my address.”
I asked my wife.
<What was inside the box besides the phone?>
It didn’t show as read for a while.
The real police arrived. This time, we confirmed with the police station through the intercom and verified their ID numbers as well. I handed over photos and recordings of the pair.
During the interview, one of the officers pointed to the bouquet of white flowers.
“Did the man leave this here as well?”
“My boyfriend, who calls himself Ren Asakura, did...”
The officer, wearing gloves, examined the bouquet. A small tracker was found between the stems.
It was a device about the size of a round button. I was told it could transmit not only location information but also the sounds around it.
Ren had been listening to my conversations.
“Have you ever given this man a key?”
“No.”
“Was there any situation in which he could’ve made a copy of your apartment key?”
I remembered the night last month when I’d had a fever. Ren had brought food to my door. When I tried to take cash from my wallet, I placed my keys on top of the shoe cabinet. For a few minutes, Ren and my keys had been alone in the entryway.
The officer recommended that I change the lock, just to be safe.
When I called the property management company, they said an emergency locksmith would arrive in about an hour. Until then, one of the officers would remain in the hallway.
“Even if someone named Asakura comes back, do not answer the door under any circumstances.”
“What if the fake police officers come back dressed as police again?”
“Ask for their affiliation and names through the intercom, then confirm with the police station. We will never establish a passphrase with you.”
I asked permission to photograph the officers’ IDs and uniforms. I wasn’t used to doubting people, but just for tonight, I had to abandon that part of myself.
Just before the officer stepped into the hallway, a one-line message arrived from my wife.
<The two officers this time are real. But only until two a.m.>
The clock read 1:13 a.m.
My wife didn’t answer what would change in forty-seven minutes.
I took a picture of the clock beside the front door with my smartphone. I had a feeling the exact time itself would be evidence. I had Nana save the same screen as well.
“When it turns two, we’re leaving.”
“Where?”
“I haven’t decided yet. But it’s better than staying in the place they predicted.”
I wasn’t running away. I told myself I was moving in order to step outside the sequence my opponent had decided on.
By the time the interview ended, it was past one in the morning. Nana said she would stay the night. We sat on the sofa and floor, scrolling back through my message history with Ren one conversation at a time.
Three months of messages looked like a record of kindness.
In just the first week, Ren had learned almost everything about my life. What time I woke up, where I worked, my route home, and the town where my mother lived. I was happy that he was interested in me, so I answered him willingly.
There was only one question I hadn’t answered.
<Do you have any of your sister’s belongings?>
I replied that my mother couldn’t bring herself to sort through my sister’s room. Ren changed the subject right away, but two weeks later, he was waiting near my mother’s house, pretending it was a coincidence.
<I happened to be nearby for work.>
I thought that was possible if he worked in sales for a video company. But his workplace and business card had both been fake.
I called my mother and sent her a picture of Ren. It was late at night, but she answered right away.
“Have you ever seen this man near your house?”
After a long silence, my mother’s voice turned hard.
“Yes. Wasn’t he at Kasumi’s funeral?”
“Ren was?”
“I don’t know his name. He stood outside the whole time without signing the guest book at the desk. He was watching you, so I thought he was someone you knew.”
Ren had known about me for five years.
“Mom, don’t unlock the door tonight. Even if you hear my voice, confirm it by phone.”
I didn’t have time to explain everything. I only told her I was consulting with the police.
When I hung up, Nana draped a blanket over my shoulders.
“Did you love Ren?”
“I still want to know how much of it was a lie.”
What hurt more than the anger of being deceived was the thought that even the time he’d spent being kind might become fake.
“What was he planning to do on tomorrow’s trip?”
I opened the booking confirmation email. The hotel in Hakone had been chosen by Ren. Its official website said it was closed.
There was no record even when I searched the reservation number.
When I looked up the address on a map, I found that it wasn’t a hotel at all, but a resort facility that had been closed five years ago.
In an old Street View image, a white flower symbol had been drawn beside the gate.
It was the same shape as my sister’s pendant.
<Were you busy today?>
<Did you eat properly?>
<Let me know when you get home safely.>
Now, every one of those messages looked like a check on my movements.
“This day,” Nana said, pointing at the screen. “Ren contacted you the day after you first met.”
<I don’t think you have to force yourself to forget about the sister you were telling me about yesterday.>
I hadn’t talked about my sister at the dinner gathering. I’d only answered Takase, “I had an older sister.”
That meant Takase had reported to Ren that same day.
“Ren approached Mio from the beginning as Kasumi’s little sister.”
It was a conclusion I didn’t want to accept.
A reply came from my wife.
<The box contained a phone and a white flower pendant.>
<Takase and the others took the pendant.>
<You must not give it to Ren.>
<Why not?>
<It contains a recording of your sister’s voice from just before she died.>
The pendant wasn’t an ornament. It was a recording device.
<Was Ren the one who killed my sister?>
My wife didn’t answer.
Instead, she sent me an audio file. It was one minute and twelve seconds long. Its title was “KASUMI_0815.”
Nana and I looked at each other, then pressed play.
The sound of wind and a train. My sister’s ragged breathing.
“You’re not really Asakura Ren, are you?”
A man’s voice answered.
“A name becomes real when the other person believes it.”
It was Ren.
“Stay away from Mio.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“She doesn’t know anything.”
“That’s why she was chosen.”
Footsteps. My sister started running. At the very end of the recording, Ren called her by another name.
“Kasumi, give me the pendant.”
My sister answered.
“I’m not Kasumi. I’m Fujisaki Mio.”
The audio ended.
Neither Nana nor I could move for a while.
Five years ago, my sister had given Ren my name.
Was that why Ren had approached me, thinking I was my sister?
My smartphone rang.
It was a video call from Ren.
My finger stopped just before I rejected it. In the preview on the screen, a woman was tied to a chair.
The woman from the party photo, wearing the white flower pendant around her neck.
Asakura Kasumi, who was supposed to be dead.