Vol 2 Chapter 1 Part 9

Someone who hates the owner destroyed his most valued treasure, the Chinese celadon antique? I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t, but it really did happen. In this locked room, the jar was suddenly—and audibly—broken. Who could’ve done this, and how? Thinking about those two questions was throwing me for a loop.

First, let’s think about “who.” Someone who would hate the owner. Shimizu, the producer, had just been the target of some harsh words from him. Yanagihara, a fellow appraiser, could possibly secretly dislike him. The ikebana teacher Hanamura and the Masamune duo…probably didn’t have anything against him. As for Akihito… I glanced at him. His face was pale, and he was shaking.

“What’s wrong, Akihito?”

“A-Aoi, this is bad. It might’ve been me,” he whispered.

“Wh-What? How did you manage that?”

“The sound came right after I fell down, right? What if the impact carried over…?” he whimpered, teary-eyed.

I had no words. Kaori and I exchanged glances. I guess it’s not so funny when his cluelessness goes this far.

“A fall like that isn’t going to break a jar,” I said, mildly exasperated.

“R-Really?” Akihito’s face brightened as if his life had been saved. Yeah, it definitely wasn’t him. Besides, Akihito admired the owner. He wouldn’t hate him. As for who would, the owner’s cousins were a possibility too. They were once his rivals.

As I frowned, puzzled, I noticed Yoshie in the corner of my eye. She looked pained. Suddenly, her words flashed through my mind: “Seiji’s passion for antiques is abnormal. There was a time when he was so obsessed with one that it made me want to break it.” What if…? Even if she didn’t hate the owner himself, she could hate the antiques that he puts above everything and everyone. That made her a suspect too. But if Yoshie’s suspicious, then the manager is too. He was dealing with all sorts of emotions, and it was possible that he hated the owner’s treasure. Come to think of it, he was acting strangely too.

But there’s no way it could be Yoshie or the manager. I can’t imagine either of them breaking a world-class antique, no matter how displeased they feel. But if it was one of them, it wouldn’t be strange for them to have a duplicate key… Argh! I can’t get my thoughts straight, and I hate myself for suspecting people I know!

Then, Holmes’s voice echoed through the showroom: “What’s the matter?”

“Holmes!” I was so relieved to see him. Behind him was the owner, who’d already changed into a kimono. We all stiffened.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the owner asked.

As the two of them were about to enter the showroom, Yoshie cried out and clung to the owner. “I’m sorry, Seiji! I broke that celadon jar! It’s all my fault!” she wailed.

“Huh?” We all gaped. W-Was it really her?

“I always hated it because you loved it so much! It made me want to break it. That’s why this happened. I’m so sorry!”

“What’re you talking about…?” the owner frowned. He looked inside the room dubiously. His eyes opened wide when they landed on the broken celadon jar on the table.

We all rushed to explain what happened:

“I’m so sorry!”

“N-No, it wasn’t her fault. We were in the party room, and…”

“It was me! I fell down!”

The owner snorted. “That’s not celadon,” he said resolutely.

Everyone froze. “What?”

“The shape, color, and luster of the broken fragments are totally different. It’s a fake.”

“H-Huh?”

“What’s the meaning of this?”

We were dumbfounded.

“Heck if I know what it means! Ask Kiyotaka!” the owner huffed, looking at Holmes.

“It must be nice to make someone else do all the work.” Holmes shrugged, exasperated. He walked over to the table, his footsteps echoing through the silent showroom. Tension ran through the air, and we all gulped in anticipation.

“Judging from your explanations just now, I believe that this case is not a matter of ‘someone sneaked into a locked room,’ but rather, ‘the real article and the broken fake were already switched when this room was open.’”

The rest of us frowned and exchanged glances.

“Th-That can’t be true. How could they switch them while we were here?”

“R-Right?”

“They probably distracted everyone when they performed the swap. The real celadon is most likely right here,” Holmes said, gently lifting up the white tablecloth.

Under the table was the celadon jar, in perfect condition.

“Th-The celadon! It’s not broken!”

“My assumption is that they drew the guests’ attention to either the chandelier on the ceiling or the paintings on the opposite side of the room. They would’ve switched the pieces during that time, and then immediately left the room and mimicked my father’s voice to call everyone to the party hall. And as they were leaving, they would’ve blocked the broken jar from view with their own body. Also, the sound of the vase breaking would’ve been an audio recording. They gauged the right timing to play it.”

We were baffled by his explanation. It did seem possible, but who could do all of that…?

“This was the work of a master of misdirection. The only suspects that come to my mind are the world-renowned performers, Masamune.” Holmes grinned.

“Huh?” We all turned to the duo in shock. They were looking back at Holmes with blank expressions on their faces.

Come to think of it…back then, Masataka got everyone to look at the ceiling by talking about the chandelier. Muneyoshi could’ve performed the swap during that time, then left and imitated the manager’s voice to get us to go to the party room. He could’ve quickly come back and acted as though he’d never left. The two of them would’ve blocked our view as we exited so that we wouldn’t see the broken pot. I don’t remember clearly, but I think they were at the back of the group.

The Masamune duo didn’t argue back against Holmes’s logic or make excuses. Shimizu looked at them, dumbfounded. He leaned towards them and asked, “Huh, it was really you guys? Why would you play such a mean prank?”

The duo’s faces twisted into grins.

“Could they perhaps be connected to the magician, Don Kageyama?” Holmes asked.

Shimizu shook his head. “No. They’re not in the same agency, and I’ve never heard of him teaching them.”

The Masamune duo smiled cynically. “We…were saved by Kageyama.” Saved?

“Yeah. We grew up in an orphanage and had no relatives. Kageyama regularly visited as a volunteer and put on magic shows for us.”

“He taught us magic too…and we aspired to be like him one day. He’s the one who gave us hopes and dreams.”

Everyone looked surprised at their words, but Holmes maintained his calm expression. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“So you wanted to strike back at the man who declared your savior’s treasure a fake?” Shimizu asked, leaning in even closer.

Holmes nodded. “That’s likely the case. Though it wasn’t broadcast, it still brought Kageyama shame. I heard that he was quite shaken.”

The Masamune duo smiled wryly at Holmes.

“We were in the audience during the filming. I’ll never forget Kageyama’s shocked face. More than anything, I wanted to know if Seiji Yagashira really could tell the difference between real and fake.”

“Yeah, I’ve always wondered how good his perception was. We were going to make him see his prized treasure broken, and if he got upset we were going to laugh at him and go, ‘That’s a fake!’ It didn’t work out, though.”

The Masamune duo clicked their tongues in annoyance.

“I’m sorry, but your attempt was simply pathetic. To us, those fragments were so blatantly different that it was as if you’d replaced a white jar with a black one.” Clearly exasperated, Holmes had a cold look in his eyes.

“What the hell?” Masataka leaned in, as though ready to start a fight. Everyone froze at the tense situation.

It was rare for Holmes to speak that way. He looked calm, but he must’ve been angry at them for causing a ruckus on the owner’s special day.

“Stop it, Masataka.” Muneyoshi immediately put his arm in front of Masataka, blocking his way. “You said your name was Kiyotaka Yagashira, right? If you think your eyes are so good, want to have a match with me?” Muneyoshi took a deck of playing cards from his inner pocket and plopped them down onto the center table.

“Cards?”

“Yeah, we’ll play poker. How about it?” he challenged.

“Fine.” Holmes sat down at the table.

“If you lose, you’ll have to grovel on the floor and apologize for shaming our savior.”

All the owner did was appraise a fake for what it was. Why would Holmes have to apologize? I was bewildered. It made no sense.

Nevertheless, Holmes smiled and nodded. “All right.”

Everyone started to murmur amongst themselves.

“Hmph, you act like it’ll be easy, but Muneyoshi’s card skills are world-class,” Masataka said, placing his hand on Muneyoshi’s shoulder.

Muneyoshi nodded and began by fanning the cards out face-up. He then quickly brought them together and shuffled them. His technique was amazing, as you’d expect from someone who performs across the globe.

The cards were dealt, five each. Muneyoshi looked at his and made a confident face. I felt the anxiety return.

Holmes slumped his shoulders without even touching his cards. “Ah, that’s unfortunate. It’s my loss.” He threw up his hands.

Everyone was startled because his cards were still face-down.

“Holmes, say that after looking. Besides, you’re allowed to discard and draw new cards in poker,” said Akihito.

“He’s right. You don’t have to grovel in front of someone like him!” I insisted.

Holmes smiled weakly. “Muneyoshi’s hand is a full house of two aces and three kings. Unfortunately, my hand is nothing. Even if I try, the best I can do is a pair or two. Winning is impossible.” He sounded disappointed, but he was still smiling.

Muneyoshi’s eyes widened. “H-How do you know that?”

“When you fanned out the cards at first, they were in a specific order, right? With your excellent training, you made it look like you were shuffling the cards, but I could tell that they were being returned to their original positions. You left the ace of spades on top and began dealing from the second card. And perhaps just in case, when Masataka put his hand on your shoulder, he slipped a card into his sleeve from your collar. It was so seamless that I thought I’d gotten to see a free show. I surely can’t win like this…but it’s not exactly a fair match, is it?” Holmes explained, still smiling.

The showroom fell silent. Everyone was speechless.

Holmes stood up without making a sound, and Masataka squeaked, “Wh-Who are you?”

“I’m just an appraiser-in-training. However, could you do me a favor and remember something?”

“Wh-What is it?” The Masamune duo gulped, as did the rest of us.

Holmes’s smile instantly changed to a sharp glare. “You’d best not make light of keen eyes.”

The Masamune duo gasped and froze in place, overwhelmed by the impact of that statement. The room fell silent again.

“That’s enough, Kiyotaka.” The owner put his hand on Holmes’s shoulder and looked at the Masamune duo. “I apologize for shaming Kageyama in a public setting,” he said, bowing deeply. The Masamune duo looked shocked. The owner continued, “I’m truly sorry for hurting Kageyama with my words. The antique he brought in was a rather elaborate counterfeit. Depending on the viewer, it may have seemed quite valuable. But, a fake’s a fake. No matter how good it is, you can’t call it real. The moment an appraiser does that, it gets recognized as genuine, and everything becomes warped.

“An appraiser’s mistake can distort history. It’s a very, very big responsibility we carry. I feel bad, but no matter how much money you have or how much you beg, I can’t say a fake is genuine in any situation. That’s my philosophy as someone with that perceptive ability,” he declared.

I felt inspired by his words, and I’m sure everyone else did, too. The philosophy of perception…

“We’re sorry,” the Masamune duo said remorsefully after a short time had passed.

“To be honest, we thought that maybe you didn’t like Kageyama and made something up.”

“And even if it was a fake, we didn’t get why you wouldn’t play along and say it was real. It was selfish of us… We should’ve known better. Kiyotaka was right. We made light of appraisers.”

The two looked down gloomily.

Holmes smiled gently. “I’m glad you understand now.”

“All right, that’s enough of that. There’s still tons of food and drink left. Time for another toast!” the owner exclaimed. Everyone laughed.

Then, the manager appeared. “Some new guests have arrived, and they’re looking for the man of the hour. Did something happen in here?” He looked puzzled. “Oh no, the celadon jar is broken!” he exclaimed. His face went pale.

“That’s a fake. Masamune was putting on a show,” the owner replied.

“A-A show?”

“Yep, a show. Anyway, people are still coming, huh? That’s great. Back to the party we go, everyone!” Looking cheerful, the owner headed for the party room, and everyone followed him, smiling.

“Okay, I really am scared of Holmes,” Kaori said, hugging herself as she walked beside me.

“Yeah, I got a chill down my spine too,” Akihito added, nodding.

I looked down, not saying anything. Holmes had been intimidating. I can understand why they’d say those things, but I…

“Aoi, do you have the key to this room?” Holmes walked up to us, startling Kaori and Akihito.

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I’ve been holding onto it all this time.” I hurriedly held out the key.

Holmes shook his head. “No, thank you for taking care of it.”

After checking that everyone had left the room, we locked the doors with a clack.

“I apologize for that unseemly display earlier. I lost my temper,” Holmes said to me quietly as we headed to the party room.

“No, you don’t have to be sorry.” I looked up at him, and my heart lurched at his pained expression.

“Did you also think I was scary, Aoi?” He seemed concerned.

“Huh?”

“I’ve done similar things in front of people in the past, which often made them look terrified.” His self-deprecating smile made my chest tighten. Holmes must’ve hurt many people in the past with his sharp observations.

“No… I wasn’t scared. I could tell that you were truly proud of the owner. It was admirable how you tried to protect someone you loved. You were really cool.”

Holmes’s eyes widened. The next instant, he had a carefree, almost childlike smile on his face. “Thanks, Aoi.”

I looked down. For some reason, it was hard to maintain eye contact. What’s going on? Something about him is just unfair today.

“Kiyotakaaa! Hurry up!” The owner’s angry voice resounded, breaking the silence.

Holmes shrugged, exasperated. “There’s really no winning against him.”

“He’s amazing, though. I was touched by his speech just now.”

“Yes, he is a respectable teacher. I’ll be inheriting everything from him, and one day, if I can surpass him…” Holmes murmured to himself before saying, “Anyway, shall we go?” He smiled and started walking.

“Yes!” I nodded and followed him.

The owner was standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by all the guests. The nationally certified appraiser, Seiji Yagashira, really was an amazing person, and Holmes would be following in his footsteps—inheriting his philosophy of perception and everything that came with it…

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