“Aren’t you coming?”
“No need. You’re ready to go on your own now.”
The cat gave him a glowing smile.
“Go ahead, Rintaro Natsuki.”
“That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”
“You’ve earned my acknowledgment. The twisted soul is strong—”
The cat paused.
“But you are stronger.”
Powerful words of encouragement, which could only have been uttered by a true friend.
As Rintaro nodded, he felt an unpleasantly cold sensation trickle down his back. But he didn’t want to run away. He couldn’t run away.
“Will I see you again?”
“Quit it, will you? That’s way too cliché for a farewell speech.”
The cat was back to his old self. Almost.
“Farewell, my brave friend.”
The perfect parting words.
The cat bowed its head respectfully to Rintaro, who returned the gesture. The boy turned his back to the carriage and began to walk. Ahead of him, at the end of a narrow street, was a single yellow streetlight. Huddled beneath it was a little old house. Rintaro strained to make out the wooden sign hanging over the wooden latticed door. It read NATSUKI BOOKS. It was a perfectly detailed re-creation.
Undaunted, Rintaro marched straight ahead. No matter how cleverly done, a fake was still a fake. There was no moon in the night sky, and below it no trees or grass. There were no lights on in the neighboring houses. Never had he seen a more comfortless scene.
Rintaro cut straight through the chill of the night, up to the stone steps in front of the bookshop. Beyond the familiar latticed door shone the only clear light in the whole scene.
A voice rang out.
“Come in!”
It was a woman’s voice, perfectly calm. At the same moment, the door began to open.
*
“Welcome, young Rintaro Natsuki.”
The voice was flat. Rintaro looked around. He was in Natsuki Books but it looked very different from usual. There was not a single book on the shelves that lined the walls, making the place feel empty and cavernous. In the center of the room were a pair of matching sofas, facing each other—something that had never been there before. Seated on the sofa facing the door was a slight figure. Rintaro was surprised to make out a thin, elderly woman dressed in a formal black dress. She was sitting on the large sofa with her legs crossed and her long, white hands resting on her knees. She stared at Rintaro in a way that made her seem utterly helpless and defenseless, but at the same time there was a strangely gray aura about her that made her look unapproachable.
“What happened to your cat attendant?”
Besides her lips, not a muscle in her whole body moved.
“It told me to go on alone.”
“How cold. What an unfeeling friend you’ve got.”
She brushed her long fingers across her cheek.
“Someone as powerful as I am deserves a little more respect,” she added.
A chill ran down Rintaro’s spine as he looked into her dark, emotionless eyes. He took a step backward. His breath felt constricted, entangled in a myriad of invisible spider threads.
There was no doubt that this adversary was operating on another level. Up until now, he’d sensed the presence of a soul in each of the foes he’d come up against. Or rather, each had had their own way of thinking about books. Finding that had been the clue, the way out of the labyrinth.