Chapter XXXVIII: The Interrogation
The hallway outside the classroom feels colder than it should.
Aoto follows Dr. Aoshima in silence, his footsteps echoing against the polished floor of the Sadalmelik Building. The second floor is quieter—too quiet. Most students remain downstairs, filling corridors with noise and life, but up here, only the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant ticking of a wall clock exist.
Dr. Aoshima walks ahead with measured steps, hands clasped behind his back, white coat swaying slightly with each movement. He does not look back, yet Aoto feels as if the man is fully aware of every breath he takes.
They stop in front of a wooden door.
A brass nameplate reads:
Dr. Denji Aoshima, Behavioral Studies & Phenomenal Research
Dr. Aoshima unlocks the door and gestures inside.
"Please," he says calmly. "Do come in."
The office smells faintly of old books and brewed tea. Shelves line the walls, packed with journals, thick binders, and folders labeled in meticulous handwriting. A wide desk sits near the window, sunlight diffused through sheer curtains, illuminating scattered papers filled with diagrams, symbols, and handwritten notes.
Aoto steps inside, heart beating louder with every second. The door closes behind him. The sound is soft. Final.
Dr. Aoshima does not sit immediately. Instead, he walks toward a shelf and removes a thin folder, fingers brushing its spine as if greeting an old acquaintance. He places it gently on the desk before finally turning to Aoto.
"Sit," he says.
Aoto obeys. The chair feels colder than expected. Dr. Aoshima sits across from him, folding his hands, studying Aoto's face—not with suspicion, but with careful attention, as if examining cracks in glass.
"Aoto Abe," he begins quietly, "do you know why I asked to speak with you?"
Aoto swallows. "No, sir."
Dr. Aoshima nods once. "That is honest."
He slides the folder slightly closer to himself but does not open it yet.
"Tell me," he says, "what do you remember about your father?"
The question lands heavier than expected.
Aoto blinks.
"My... father?"
"Yes."
Aoto's fingers curl against his knees.
"He was... busy," he says slowly. "He worked late. He always said it was important."
Dr. Aoshima watches him closely.
"And beyond that?"
Aoto hesitates. Memories surface—fragmented, blurred by time and grief.
"He liked tea," Aoto says.
"Black tea. No sugar."
A pause.
"He always checked the locks before sleeping."
Dr. Aoshima's eyes sharpen slightly.
"Did he ever speak about his work?"
Aoto shakes his head. "Not really. He said it was complicated. Confidential."
Dr. Aoshima leans back. "Did he ever mention... being followed?"
The word sends a chill through Aoto.
"No," he answers quickly—then stops.
"...At least, not directly."
Dr. Aoshima's voice remains even. "Indirectly, then."
Aoto stares at the desk.
"He asked me once," Aoto admits quietly, "what I would do if someone tried to take something from me that wasn't mine."
Dr. Aoshima tilts his head. "And what did you answer?"
Aoto exhales. "I said... I'd protect it anyway."
Silence stretches between them.
Dr. Aoshima opens the folder. Inside are photocopies—police reports, blurred photographs, handwritten notes. Aoto recognizes one image instantly. The crushed car. His breath catches.
"Two years ago," Dr. Aoshima says, "your father is attacked on his way back from work."
Aoto's hands tremble.
"The assailants," Dr. Aoshima continues, "are described as four individuals wearing dark clothing. Hooded. Riding motorcycles. No identifying marks."
Aoto clenches his jaw.
"They ask him a question," Dr. Aoshima says softly.
"Do you know what they ask?"
Aoto's voice is barely audible. "They ask about a ring."
Dr. Aoshima looks up sharply.
"So you do know."
Aoto's chest tightens. "I... heard it later. From my aunt. From police whispers."
Dr. Aoshima folds his hands again.
"Your father denies knowing anything. He is beaten severely. The assailants flee when sirens approach."
He slides another photo forward. A small object rests in a plastic evidence bag. A button. Dark metal. Strange symbols carved faintly into its surface.
"This," Dr. Aoshima says, "is recovered at the scene."
Aoto leans closer despite himself.
"It emits an energy signature," Dr. Aoshima continues, "unlike anything cataloged by standard forensic equipment."
Aoto's heart pounds.
"This is not an isolated incident," Dr. Aoshima says. "It is part of a pattern."
Aoto looks up. "A pattern of what?"
Dr. Aoshima meets his gaze.
"Rings," he says. "Artifacts. Phenomenal conduits."
The room feels smaller.
"Your father," Dr. Aoshima continues, "is not a random victim. He is targeted."
Aoto shakes his head. "He's an office worker."
Dr. Aoshima nods. "Officially."
Aoto's breath stutters.
"What... what are you saying?"
Dr. Aoshima stands and walks toward the window.
"I am saying," he says slowly, "that your father studies things most people pretend do not exist."
Aoto's vision blurs.
"He keeps records," Dr. Aoshima adds. "Research notes. Observations. Possibly prototypes."
He turns back.
"And I believe," he says, "that those records still exist."
Aoto grips the edge of the desk. "Then why didn't they take them?"
Dr. Aoshima's expression darkens.
"Because," he says, "they don't know where to look."
Aoto's pulse roars in his ears.
"And because," Dr. Aoshima continues, "your father hides information very well."
Silence presses down.
"I want you," Dr. Aoshima says, "to investigate."
Aoto stiffens. "Me?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"His room," Dr. Aoshima says. "His office. His workplace. Anywhere he spends time."
Aoto's voice shakes. "What if I find something dangerous?"
Dr. Aoshima steps closer, placing a hand on the desk.
"Then you already live in danger," he says quietly.
Aoto swallows hard.
"Why tell me this now?" Aoto asks.
Dr. Aoshima's eyes soften slightly.
"Because the hooded men are active again," he says.
"And because you are no longer just a witness."
Aoto's fingers curl into fists.
"What happens if I don't do this?"
Dr. Aoshima straightens.
"Then others will," he says.
"And they will not be as careful."
The words hang heavy. Dr. Aoshima closes the folder and slides it toward Aoto.
"You are not alone," he adds. "But knowledge begins with you."
Aoto looks down at the folder. At his father's legacy. At the unanswered questions that have haunted him for years. He nods.
"...I'll look."
Dr. Aoshima exhales quietly, relief barely visible.
"Good," he says. "Because the past is not finished with us yet."
Outside, the bell rings. But inside the office—
Time stands still.
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and then Add to home screen.