Jiang Xia held the receiver. "You're the only person surnamed 'Omura' at the banquet who could speak with Mr. Tachibana—think carefully. Did he leave behind any hints or clues before he died?"
"Mr. Tachibana's code was for you to come ask me?" President Omura was even more puzzled.
However, Jiang Xia's words seemed to give him some sort of prompt.
He followed that train of thought for a while, then suddenly remembered something. "Right! Now that you mention it, the day before the birthday banquet, I went to Mr. Tachibana to ask for the Original Manuscript of his new book. He gave this mysterious smile at the time. He didn't say whether he'd agree, but he told me something strange.
"—He said that if someone came to ask me a question I didn't understand, I should tell them, 'Ask Tokito and you'll know'... Ah—!! Who is it?! Y-you, what are you doing?!"
A dull bang came through the phone.
It was followed by a chaotic series of muffled thuds—the familiar sound of a club striking flesh.
Gradually, President Omura fell silent. The other end of the call soon became quiet.
Two kilometers away, at President Omura's home.
A burly man stood beside President Omura's lifeless body, a golf club in hand. He reached out, picked up the receiver dangling in midair, and hung up.
He wore gloves, a hat, and a face mask, his face concealed tight-lipped. His broad Trench Coat also hid his build.
After silencing him, the man cast a cold glance at the corpse on the floor, tightened his face mask, and turned to leave at a brisk pace.
After Jiang Xia returned to the car, Vermouth asked, "What happened?"
Though she couldn't hear anything from outside the telephone booth, its walls were transparent. Vermouth