Suspicion

Everything was looking up. It took two days for Shohei’s fever to break, but the weird reaction on his arm had subsided and the bruises now only hurt when directly agitated. Without the high doses of painkillers, Shohei was awake and clear enough to supervise the team who was working on using the extracts he had managed to produce before his accident, even if he opted to do it from a wheelchair since he still got exhausted quickly. No wonder—with so many places his body was working on, he needed more energy than usual, and Kyourin made sure he ate properly.

And then, three days later, an opportunity presented itself. Kyourin had to leave for a business trip, which took him away until late evening, negotiating some deals that couldn’t be handled by anyone else. Shohei assured him he was well enough to take care of himself. In fact, he was scheduled to return to work after the weekend anyway. Kyourin left him with a kiss and a promise to bring back souvenirs.

About half an hour after he’d left, Shohei got up to examine the wall opposite the door. It was filled with shelves containing books, decorative items, and a narrow wardrobe, which held a number of neatly hung up suits. Shohei operated the light switch next to the door, but only the overhead light turned on. The smaller lamps next to the bed had separate switches. The windows faced west, and even if the sun was at the right angle to penetrate them, there was another building in the way, so the room lay in twilight for most of the day, which Shohei had experienced himself that week.

None of these explained the light he had seen that night. Had it been the fever? A phone screen turned on in the dark? He pondered it for a while. No aquarium or something similar either.

Shohei felt along the edges of the shelves, into the crevices and behind the books, lifted objects and peered around corners. And then he saw it: A place along the side of a shelf, where the paint was worn out. He felt along the edges and pushed.

Like in the movies, the wardrobe slid to the side and light spilled out of the space behind it. Shohei was stunned. He hadn’t actually expected to find something.

“Do you actually want to see what’s behind there? Do you want to possibly ruin your relationship before it even really begins?” Shohei whispered to himself, finger still lingering over the button.

After a few long minutes of debating himself, he made his decision and walked into the light. It was a landing to a set of stairs leading downwards. The air was cool and smelled sweet.

Ah. So that’s why his clothes always had that cloying smell. Shohei would have to shower later… He walked downwards, about three floors, before he reached a door. It wasn’t locked. Behind it, a lab space not unlike the one he had been working in, complete with a wall of tanks, which housed rats in various states. They were connected to sensors showing the readings on small screens next to them. So far the same as upstairs. So why… Shohei looked at the handwritten notes on a desk nearby. They matched the records he’d seen from Ito’s team. He grew more and more confused.

There was another door at the back of the room.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Shohei said to himself.

As soon as he opened the door, the air was saturated with the smell of sugar. So that’s where it came from. The space behind it lay in darkness, except for the large tank situated in the middle of the room, from which light spilled out like a large aquarium, lit from above. It was absolutely filled with plant growth, which crowded the inside like an overgrown lake. Algae, water lilies, aquatic plants… even flowers and other shrubs one wouldn’t expect to be able to grow under water. They wrapped around something in the middle like a silkmoth cocoon. Shohei walked closer to see just what—

“The fuck?” he yelled, his voice echoing in the room.

It was a human. A man. He was floating like one of the rats, suspended in the thick fluid, torso, limbs, every part of him wrapped in vines, which covered his naked body. He was obscured so well, if his face wasn’t partially visible, it would’ve been hard to tell it was a human at all.

Shohei should’ve screamed. He should’ve recoiled in horror. Question the legality. Ask himself if this was a murder victim. Maybe even if there were others concealed like this.

He did none of these things. Slowly he walked towards the tank and placed both hands on the glass. It was cold. The water behind it laid still, serene. The man was framed like a work of art, a painting of Ophelia floating in the stream, flowers carrying his body. Yet he wasn’t dead. Not completely. Shohei could see sensors connected to his body, and one IV directly into his arm.

There were a few steps in front of the tank. He ascended and came directly face to face with the suspended man. This way he could see his hair, which had grown long and tangled with the vines. He could see the laughter lines on his face, which spoke to his personality. Skin as white as snow, having been concealed in this place for months or years.

And then he recognised him.

Ran Saikawa.