Chapter Nine: The Beloved King of Brightness

This was a very simple case, mused Muneyuki Uesugi.

All he needed to prove was that the elderly couple had died by mutual suicide, not—as the outside world speculated—that the husband, overwhelmed by the prolonged care, had ultimately snapped and killed his wife.

Very well, his task was clear: to clarify the truth.

Uesugi stepped forward once more. “There’s no doubt, Mr. Tanaka. The two deceased died together by mutual resolve. Mrs. Ishizaka likely passed away naturally in the morning and was found first. Afterwards, Mr. Ishizaka chose to take sleeping pills and ended his own life. The way their bodies were stacked created the scene you see.”

“Ah?”

“What?”

“Uesugi, are you serious?”

Uesugi’s words stunned the officers gathered outside discussing the case, especially Deputy Inspector Tanaka, who gaped in disbelief. “Uesugi, you’re a coroner, not a detective! Why are you not telling us the autopsy findings but instead trying to reconstruct the case? Are you a cop now? This goes against protocol—we invited you to examine the bodies, not to act as a special investigator for the Metropolitan Police!”

Tanaka instinctively wanted to put the rookie coroner in his place. “What do you know about investigation? When have we detectives ever needed a coroner to deduce and restore the scene?”

But before he could finish, he abruptly fell silent.

He had been burned once before.

Last time, it cost him twenty thousand yen, and on reflection, Tanaka suspected Uesugi’s approach bordered on a form of entrapment.

This time, he vowed not to be duped again.

He glanced at Officer Kuwabara across from him, who also seemed displeased but dared not voice it.

No matter—someone else would stand up. He wouldn’t lose out.

Tanaka decided to bide his time and watch the clouds roll by.

Sure enough, someone took the initiative—a certain officer hoping for a smooth few years without incident to secure a promotion.

Naitō, the inspecting officer, couldn’t hold back. “Mr. Uesugi, what nonsense are you spouting? We’re waiting for your autopsy report, not your detective theatrics! We need the autopsy results, understand? Even I can tell—the differing degrees of decomposition between the two bodies are the strongest evidence of murder!”

“Yes, yes!” A chorus of middle-aged women nearby chimed in, one carrying a shopping basket complaining, “I knew it! Caring for someone like that is unbearable. Mr. Ishizaka must have had no choice.”

“Oh, I can’t even handle caring for my own husband, let alone a dementia patient.”

“Mrs. Ishizaka gave out candy to anyone who came by, smiling foolishly whenever someone took a sweet. We just couldn’t stand it.”

“No children and not enough national pension, it’s only natural Mr. Ishizaka got so overwhelmed.”

“Exactly!” After their discussion, the ladies sighed in collective sympathy, tears tracing down their cheeks as they nodded in agreement.

The woman with the basket continued, “And if Mrs. Ishizaka truly died naturally, why didn’t Mr. Ishizaka bury her properly before killing himself? Clearly, he couldn’t bear it any longer.”

“That’s right!” The group echoed her, their voices swelling with a sense of righteous indignation and sorrow. They eagerly shared this story with passersby, over and over, finding a strange joy in the retelling.

“Yes, Uesugi-san, you coroners just handle the autopsy reports. We detectives have to consider a lot more,” Naitō said smugly, buoyed by the neighborhood’s support. “Just tell me the estimated time and cause of death.”

“Come inside,” Uesugi beckoned with a curl of his finger. “I’ll explain everything.”

Several officers hesitated at the thought of entering the scene.

“Come in. How else can I discuss what happened?” Uesugi insisted, inviting them warmly.

“Naitō, you’re the one with objections, right?” Deputy Inspector Tanaka spoke first. “We’ve decided—you’re going in!”

“Exactly, Naitō. It’s a perfect chance to discuss the autopsy results with Uesugi-san,” Kuwabara chimed in.

“Please, Naitō!” Policewoman Takasaka urged from a distance.

As for Officer Itō, he stood even further back than Tanaka, nestled among the crowd behind the yellow tape, arms loosely crossed, expression blank—like a man lost in thought, wondering who he was and what he was doing there.

Watching these officers, Uesugi felt a deep despair.

This was the kind of police force in Tachimoto: eager for menial tasks but lacking when it came to actual investigation.

And even based on the current autopsy, Mr. Ishizaka, the “Red Demon,” clearly died after Mrs. Ishizaka, the “Green Demon.”

So how could anyone claim Mr. Ishizaka killed his wife first?

If the local police were this inept, what hope was there for the metropolitan force above them?

In the end, only Naitō followed Uesugi inside.

“Explain it, Uesugi-san,” Naitō said impatiently. “The decomposition levels differ so much it doesn’t look like a double suicide. What’s your explanation?”

“It’s simple. As you observed, the bodies show different levels of decay,” Uesugi began, explaining the principles of green, red, black, and white demons—the forensic indicators. “According to traditional forensic methods, this difference suggests the two died at least a day apart.”

“So?”

“But!” Uesugi raised a finger. “Your assumption is that Mr. Ishizaka died first.”

“What you call our assumption is just Naitō’s own conjecture!” Tanaka, squeezed at the doorway, protested. “Don’t drag us into this!”

Uesugi’s words embarrassed Naitō momentarily, but he quickly recovered. “Could it be that the husband, as caregiver, died suddenly, leaving the dementia-stricken wife unattended, and she accidentally suffocated in her sleep?”

“How do you imagine an elderly woman with dementia lifting her hundred-kilogram husband over a blanket and pressing him down to suffocate herself?” Uesugi retorted coldly.

Naitō was silenced, then asked, “But why the differing times of death?”

“No, the time of death was the same,” Uesugi began his demonstration, pointing to the stacked bodies. “Decomposition depends not only on time since death but also on three other factors.”

“First, the rate of gas flow across the body surface; second, temperature and humidity on the body surface; third, the area of the body exposed directly to the environment.”

“Now, consider this: between Mr. Ishizaka, lying on top, and Mrs. Ishizaka wrapped in a blanket beneath him, whose body has greater exposure?”

“Obviously Mr. Ishizaka,” Naitō reluctantly admitted, glancing nervously at the curious eyes outside.

“Good. Now, second point,” Uesugi walked to the window and flung aside the curtains abruptly. “This apartment faces a certain direction. It’s April. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Using geography, we can calculate the sun’s altitude at noon and the apartment’s orientation.”

Uesugi spread his arms as the cloudy daylight filtered in, shining directly on Mr. Ishizaka’s body. “Mr. Ishizaka’s body receives direct sunlight for at least four hours daily. Mrs. Ishizaka’s body beneath the blanket receives none.”

At that moment, thunder cracked and lightning flashed outside, a pale bolt illuminating the room and highlighting Mr. Ishizaka’s form.

“Ah, that explains the difference in decomposition!” Kuwabara exclaimed.

“Impressive!” Takasaka gasped. “How’d he know the window was open?”

Tanaka frowned. “No one told him that.”

“So, it’s a double suicide—makes sense,” Uesugi told the stunned Naitō. “They died together. The husband found his wife dead in the morning, arranged the scene, then took poison himself.”

“But what poison?” Naitō had no counterargument but pressed on.

“Sleeping pills.”

“Why?”

“There are eye crusts on the eyelids and white foam at the mouth and nose. An autopsy would reveal lung congestion and swollen conjunctiva—typical signs of death from sleeping pills.”

“And Mrs. Ishizaka’s cause of death?”

“Natural causes—or illness. You’ve likely learned she suffered from over a dozen ailments. Given that, sudden death at any time is plausible. As for suspected suffocation, the lack of facial congestion means no strangulation. You’d only need to check for pulmonary emphysema.”

Uesugi fired off answers to all Naitō’s questions, concluding, “This is my judgment. An autopsy would confirm it. I’m one hundred percent certain.”

“That morning, Mr. Ishizaka did his usual early chores and tried to wake his wife, but she was already gone. Realizing this, he took the sleeping pills he’d prepared and died alongside her.”

“But if it wasn’t suffocation, why did he lie atop his wife? If it was a double suicide, why not have a proper funeral first, then die peacefully? Why let the bodies rot together in the apartment? Cremation or burial would be more dignified,” Naitō still couldn’t grasp it. Unaware, his questions had stepped beyond forensic science and investigation.

Uesugi said nothing. He simply stepped out of the apartment.

Outside, the crowd had grown. Neighbors chattered excitedly. Upon seeing Uesugi emerge, the throng buzzed with excitement. The woman with the basket pushed forward first.

“Hey, young man, what’s it—suicide or murder? I told you, those two were pitiful. Their children died, no relatives left, and Mrs. Ishizaka had dementia…”

“Love stained by lust, all beings are enraged; clearing obstacles within, purifying the Bodhi mind.”

“I say to all of you,” Uesugi’s face remained impassive. “Enough talking. Are you done?”

The crowd quieted, dozens staring at the cold young man in confusion. What did he mean?

It was the Ishizakas who died—what business was it of theirs?

“Do you know why Mr. Ishizaka chose to kill himself? Why he didn’t bury his wife before dying?”

Uesugi pointed at the gossiping women. “Because of you!”

“You pity them, sympathize with them, and every time you see them, you can’t help but share their story with others. You want to appear compassionate, loving—but you forget: Mr. Ishizaka did not want your pity. Your sympathy only deepened his pain.”

“He hated being pitied. He didn’t need your pity, nor did he want you to spread their suffering to every passerby. He just wanted to live quietly. He was exhausted. He hated hearing his name on your lips, hated his story told on the streets. But he couldn’t resist. As you said, they had no money or means to move away. He had no strength left to fight. Caring for his wife had drained him completely.”

Uesugi’s icy voice pierced the air. “He didn’t want another funeral—another performance of pain, sympathy, crocodile tears, and lamentation. Dying in his own apartment, together with his wife, was his final act of defiance. So, can you please stop?”

Without waiting for a response, Uesugi turned to Kuwabara and the others. “Wrapping his wife in a blanket, hiding her from strangers so no one would remember her—that was Mr. Ishizaka’s last pride.”

“But… why did he care for her like that? There must be a reason, right?” the basket lady insisted.

“The reason is love.”

“Outwardly fierce and violent, inwardly devoted and respectful.”

At that moment, the blue glow in Uesugi’s hand brightened intensely. The spirits of the Ishizakas appeared again—Mrs. Ishizaka frantically searching for candy, Mr. Ishizaka bowing gratefully to Uesugi.

Their bond was forged by a single candy.

In the postwar era, a time of extreme scarcity, the young couple lived in poverty and hardship. Their connection was symbolized by a small piece of Konpeitō, a precious sweet squeezed from the gaps between their teeth. They shared it, reluctant to eat it themselves, hoping the other would enjoy it.

After Mrs. Ishizaka developed dementia, she gradually forgot family, friends, and her past—sometimes even her husband. But she always remembered that candy. That’s why she kept a few candies in her clothes and asked others if they wanted some.

Every act of pity and sympathy inflicted pain on Mr. Ishizaka’s heart. Now, they were finally free.

A powerful force surged into Uesugi’s right hand. The blue gemstone’s radiant glow shifted to a passionate red, coalescing into a strange, divine form.

The Love-Controlling Wisdom King!

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