He took another leisurely sip from his teacup.
“I’ve discovered that my wife truly makes a wonderful cup of tea.”
He chuckled pleasantly in a way that made Rintaro feel warm inside. As he continued laughing, another voice came from Rintaro’s left.
“Have confidence, my young guest.”
Rintaro turned his attention to the left-hand screen, where the scholar from the second labyrinth sat watching him. Chubby-cheeked, he smiled at Rintaro, whose mouth had fallen open. His eyes sparkled.
“Weren’t you the one who fast-forwarded my Beethoven cassette tape? Remember the courage you showed then!”
He gave a gentle nod and smiled again.
“Walk with courage the path you have chosen. Don’t be one of those bystanders who complains that nothing ever changes. Continue your journey, just as Melos kept running to the end.”
The woman’s thin eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“Thoughts alone can’t change the world,” she repeated.
“But don’t you think we should give it a try?”
The voice came from the ceiling above Rintaro. He looked up to see the company president had gotten up from his chair and was addressing the crowd of men in suits.
“It’s not a question of logic. It’s about being proud of who we are.”
The president raised a surprisingly large hand to quell the voices of protest.
“Didn’t you all join this company because you loved books?” he asked them. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was energetic. The men immediately stopped their clamoring.
“Then put aside all this logic and rationale. Let’s talk about our ideals instead. First of all, it’s our privilege to publish books.”
The men in suits seemed to stand a little straighter.
Rintaro shifted his gaze from up at the ceiling and toward the woman.
“It doesn’t matter how slight or superficial it is, a change is a change.”
This time, the woman met Rintaro’s gaze without looking away. He looked her straight in the eye as he added: “Why is it that although we all believe in the power of books, you don’t seem to?”
The woman didn’t move. Rintaro’s words faded away and the two of them were once more enveloped in silence.
This time the silence was not easy to break. It was deep and heavy and filled the space around their feet like a silent blanket of snow. Eventually it became so oppressive that it was hard to breathe. This was the heaviest silence that Rintaro had experienced in this final labyrinth.
Finally, the woman closed her eyes.
“I hate this . . .” she murmured. “From time to time I come across people who talk this way. It means I can’t completely give up hope.”
As always, her voice was toneless and impossible to read. Yet there was a very slight inflection that hadn’t been there before. Rintaro was startled to see a soft light flicker a moment in her eyes. It was brief, and immediately faded back into the darkness of her pupils, but he was sure it had been there.
“Empathy . . .” said the woman to herself. “That’s not a bad idea.”
She turned, as if she had noticed something behind her. A light had begun to fill the bookshop, starting from the far wall and spreading farther and farther, illuminating the dim interior. The bookshelves and the screens began to take on a faint glow.
“Time’s up,” said the woman.
“What time?”
“I’ve done some pretty reckless things—I can’t go on like this forever.”