Chapter 3.3

The last time Reiko had seen Natsuko, they had fought. It was over something silly, just like every other argument they had. Reiko didn’t even remember what it was anymore. All she wished was that they had spent more time together.

Looking now at the flight manifest, the guilt of that night, and every night since, returned. That guilt spilled out from her fingers and set fire to the page.

Reckless speculation filled her mind.

Was Lisa Everest the killer?

But Reiko watched Tanaka Arataki grinning at her from behind the gaps in the smoke. She steeled her thoughts and reminded herself that everything used inside the interrogation room carried an ulterior motive.

“The way I see it,” he said. “You have two choices now.”

“Oh yeah?” Reiko growled.

“The Americans will likely demand that you be extradited,” Arataki said. “So Option A, we turn you over to them, along with the rest of your team. You disappear forever. I look for someone else with the knowledge to ascend.”

“Option B,” Arataki continued, “Section Eight ascends. I promise clemency for the others and dismiss all the allegations in a public apology. It’ll ruin the Commission’s reputation, but who needs the NPSC when the country has an Egregore at its disposal?”

“You really don’t know how ascension works, do you?” Reiko smirked.

“Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“If I’m a failed candidate like you think I am, there won’t be any point trying the ascension again,” Reiko said. “You only get one opportunity.”

Arataki cackled. He leaned back and bellowed at the muted chrome ceiling. With the long sleeves of his woolen coat, he wiped tears fountaining from his eyes.

“Captain Nakamura, again you disappoint me,” he sighed.

“When did I ever say that you were the one I wanted to ascend?”

Fury overcame her, and Reiko charged out of her seat. The melted handcuffs burst like confetti. The two mages guarding the door snapped their wrists at attention and began an incantation.

But Reiko had no time for inane spells. Her eyes darted from each mage to the one way interrogation mirror on the opposite end of the room. Before they could even finish casting, the mages were yanked off the ground and smashed against the mirror. Reiko reached over the table and seized an unperturbed Tanaka Arataki by the collar.

“Where are they?” she screamed.

“You were wrong,” Arataki laughed. “I’ve known. I learned, on a night just like this, ten years ago, what it meant to ascend to Egregore, and what it meant to fail.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time.”

Reiko ignited the director’s coat. The old man howled. His body transformed into a burning effigy, but Reiko tempered the flames to not touch Arataki’s skin. Perhaps this was worse, because the fire could not consume and deliver him from her, yet held constant vigil at an excruciating proximity.

“Where are they?” Reiko hissed.

“I’m not afraid to die, Captain Nakamura,” Arataki gasped. “Burn me alive for all I care. It would be an honor. I would follow the fate of my grandparents. I have not prepared these years for Japan to witness its Egregore only to fail at the hands of a failure like you.”

The white filaments of the ceiling lights turned red. Sirens blared. A mechanism clicked into place inside the interrogation door. Reiko heard the screeching of heavy objects outside.

“Lockdown,” Arataki grinned through intermittent coughs. “Welcome to the Glasshouse, captain. By the time you see the outside world again, you’ll be gazing at the ascension of the world’s newest Egregore.”

“Don’t underestimate me, director,” Reiko dropped the old man on the floor, and pressed her palm to the floor. “Incant.”

The ground gave way beneath the interrogation room. Metal support beams, wires, and rusty pipeage strained and pulled apart until there was a fissure wide enough for Reiko to jump down.

She surmised that they had taken her to one of the interrogation cells near the top floor of the Commission headquarters, which meant she could use the public access elevator just one floor below.

But Reiko stopped speculating once she reached the level below.

Aside from the hole in the roof, she had landed into an interrogation room no different than the one above.

Director Tanaka Arataki set the television remote on the steel table. He leaned back in his chair. Mages guarded the door.

The gap that Reiko had torn sealed close.

“The days of you playing detective are over, Reiko Nakamura,” Arataki repeated.

“An imaginarium prison built out of a recurring illusion,” Reiko frowned. “How petty. You think this is enough to contain me?”

“You’ll find that the Glasshouse is as resilient as your body,” Arataki smiled. “You didn’t think I’d waste my time interrogating you all night? I’d like to tend to the moment of ascension personally.”

“So much for not being afraid to die,” Reiko scoffed. “Incantation.”

If this was an illusion, Reiko could lift the dam holding back the fire within her.

“Thus I Burn Eternally.”

Arataki and the mages did not move even as their bodies melted. The lights above burned red and the interrogation room alarm hollered anew.

An inferno tumbled through the glass and swarmed another chamber. It crashed through the door and threw itself upon another Tanaka Arataki, who was busy setting down the remote when the door pulverized him along with the mages standing guard.

The roof caved in and killed the speakers while the blaze erupted onto the upper levels. Then the floor below collapsed and the firestorm swirled into the gaps like a flood whirlpooling down a storm drain. Reiko followed, freefalling through twisted metal and burnt wool.

But after descending for several minutes through the exact same rooms, Reiko was forced to concede that Arataki had perhaps been telling the truth about the illusion’s resilience. She extinguished her flames and arrived in the same interrogation chamber.

“Congratulations, you’ve destroyed two hundred million, four hundred thirty three thousand levels of the Glasshouse,” Tanaka Arataki recited. “Impressive, only twelve trillion, nine hundred ninety-nine billion, seven hundred fifty-six million more levels to go before the Glasshouse experiences a partial loss of structural integrity.”

Reiko ignored him. The real Arataki was somewhere else. The illusory clones inside the Glasshouse were either remotely controlled or relaying prerecorded lines. Either way, Reiko couldn’t threaten him.

The mages no longer responded to her. They became frozen mannequins, abandoning any pretense that they were defending their fake director or anything at all.

“For an illusion, the imaginarium structure’s too robust,” Reiko murmured. “Someone’s helped the Commission build this thing.”

Reiko was, however, reminded of one irregularity. After she had seized Arataki the first time, she had heard discordant screeching outside the door. It sounded like someone dragging furniture to barricade the entrance, but neither the laminated steel table nor the chairs inside the interrogation chamber were heavy enough to induce that kind of unwilling scream from what sounded like wooden floors.

Besides, the floors inside the interrogation rooms were made of linoleum.

Reiko approached the door. As she expected, the mages came alive again and blocked her path. With a snap of her fingers, she vaporized them and pushed on the doorknob. When it refused to budge, Reiko melted the locking mechanism and pushed.

Another identical room awaited her.

“The days of you playing detective are–”

“Maybe it's violence that triggers the mirror effect,” Reiko shut the door. “Do I need Arataki's express permission to leave?”

She reopened the door into the next chamber and returned to her original seat. The interrogation started from the beginning like clockwork.

“The days of you playing detective are over, Reiko Nakamura.”

“What will it take for you to let me go?” Reiko asked.

“I have one condition. You’re to not interrupt the ascension.”

Could it really be that simple, Reiko wondered.

“Sure,” she lied. “I promise I won’t.”

“I’ll fetch a magical contract right away.”

I suppose not.

Reiko circled through half-baked ideas. A hidden key tucked on Arataki’s person. A secret compartment in the ceilings or a passphrase. None of these spy thriller solutions seemed likely to work.

She was running out of time. Reiko recalled an unsettling set of memories, the sight of Natsuko’s body, her eyes closed in a peaceful smile, the walls behind her splattered with her blood.

She recalled stems and petals ignited in pale fire. She recalled a blistering heat and the moment she was spared by a grace that she did not deserve.

If I can’t even save them, what did you save me for, Natsuko?

A knock on the door arrived.

“That my contract?” Reiko raised an eyebrow. “That was fast.”

The befuddled expression in Arataki’s eyes told her no.

Another knock. Arataki backed away from his seat and motioned to the mages to prepare themselves. Reiko wondered what he expected.

What, did the Tanaka Arataki next door stage a revolt?

At the sound of the third knock, there came a static crackle and the door flickered like a dying light bulb. Between each wink, Reiko spotted a short silhouette firmly pressing their hand against the door from a foreign room.

The electric sputters crescendoed and the interval between each flicker diminished until the door ceased to exist. Baba Yaga stepped into the room, followed closely by her personal guard and, to Reiko’s surprise, Kanna Samukawa.

Kanna looked at Reiko and grinned.

“I told you I had reason to distrust the Commission. Oh, and by the way, when we find him, Mamoru Fujimoto owes me ten whole city blocks.”