女面 - Bungo Stray Dogs Fanfiction

第三十五話

"The President has already informed our client that you'll be the one conducting the infiltration investigation," the young detective explained. "She told the senior housekeeper that we're sending a new housekeeper, so they'll be expecting you. Remember, while you're in there, your name will be Fujiwara Erika."

"Okay," was the girl's response. She was no longer in her casual outfit, as she had to teleport herself back to her room to change into a white long-sleeved dress underneath her beige coat. Snooping around for information inside an extravagant house resided by high-status people would require more than jeans and sneakers, if she needed to be convincing.

Her partner then suggested, "If it gets too overwhelming or if you're in danger, you can teleport back to our office when convenient."

"Thanks for the concern. But I'm confident that I can handle it."

A wide grin broke out on his face. "Well, I did try to assure the President that you'll be fine, but that old man is a worrywart."

They stepped forward on the grassy land, standing a few feet away from the entrance of the large Minka house surrounded by Chinese elms and pine trees. One signboard at the top of the shoji door wrote "Musashi", and on the side was "Musashi Academy of Ikebana" written vertically, both in calligraphy.

Ranpo looked down at the girl next to him. "Are you ready for your first mission, Fumiko-chan?" he asked. In response, she nodded curtly. "Alright, good luck. We'll see you later!" He swiftly turned around and then skipped out of the courtyard, leaving the girl all alone in front of the huge building.

Fumiko took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Determined, she called out, "Excuse me! I've come from the Hamamatsu Housekeeper's Registry."

It wasn't long before she heard a woman's voice saying, "Yes, coming!" The shoji door slid open, and out came a middle-aged woman; her dark brown hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and her outfit comprised a white knee-length collared dress underneath a cream sweater. Judging by the white apron she adorned, Fumiko guessed that she's one of the housekeepers. "Do come in. Lady Musashi informed us that we're expecting a new employee."

The girl bowed before entering the genkan, where she removed her shoes and neatly placed them aside. Putting on the house slippers, she followed the housekeeper, walking along the timber-floored corridor. As they were passing by a room with its doors shut, Fumiko quickly glanced through the windows, seeing a group of people sitting around the table. One of them was Shiori, their client; the rest she assumed would be the stepchildren. The young girl need not be inside to know that it was tense between them, even though, ironically, they were sitting in front of the altar of the deceased Head of the Musashi house.

Fumiko soon arrived at the kitchen, where the housekeeper began bringing out tea cups for the masters.

Carefully, Fumiko knelt in front of shoji door, placing the tray on the floor. "Excuse me," she called out, announcing her presence. She slid open the door, put her hands together with the tips of her fingers touching the floor just in front of her knees, and bowed lowly. After straightening herself up, she reached the tray and then stood back. She quickly took this moment to glance around the tatami room. Right at the end of the room, behind where the eldest son sat, was Musashi Junichiro's memorial altar. He seemed like a gentle man, she thought, judging by his soft brown eyes complementing his mellow expression in the portrait. Next to it was a tablet, and the below level of the altar had plates of local sweets and fruits as offerings, along with incense and white candles. Large bouquets of yellow and white chrysanthemums and white lilies were placed between the altar.

"Who's this person?" questioned the woman, sitting in front of Shiori. Mika was her name, the oldest daughter of the deceased Musashi. She had brown eyes like her father, and her black hair was tied into a ponytail. Her attire was simple - a striped button-up shirt underneath a black cardigan, its sleeves folded outwards, tucked into a pair of white pants.