Chapter 390: Anomaly

The sightseeing elevator climbed at an agonizing crawl. It offered a panoramic view of the outside world, but beyond this mountain hotel, there was nothing but a thick, all-consuming fog. Tsukiyuki Kyoichi found himself wondering if they were even still in Tokyo.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

An irritating hum buzzed in his ears. Kyoichi grew uneasy, half-expecting the elevator cable to snap at any moment. This hotel, host to some elderly class reunion, was unnervingly strange.

“Pardon me.”

The elevator stopped at the seventy-second floor.

The young girl who had boarded on the seventeenth floor gave Kyoichi a slight nod. Her smile was serene and gentle, radiating a grandmotherly warmth. It was deeply unsettling. She looked no older than seventeen, yet the moment she reached the seventy-second floor, her lively, youthful aura had steadily matured into one of quiet, steady composure. Now, she seemed as benevolent as an old woman.

It was strange.

“Wait. Who are you, exactly? Have we met before?”

Kyoichi tried to detain her, but the girl merely turned back, smiling.

“You will remember.”

A wave of familiarity washed over him, so compelling that Kyoichi felt an urge to step out onto the seventy-second floor and stroll alongside her. He was an old man; he harbored no untoward thoughts. He simply wished to chat with her, to offer some grandfatherly life advice. Nothing more.

But the girl didn’t give him the chance. After a bow, she hurried away.

Disappointment flooded Kyoichi’s heart. That girl had reminded him so much of his daughter, Senju, and his granddaughter, Rio. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Perhaps it was her mannerisms, or maybe her appearance.

“The seventy-second floor…”

Kyoichi closed his aged, clouded eyes. Something had happened when he was seventy-two, something that had changed his entire life. But the memory was gone. The harder he tried to grasp such things in his old age, the more elusive they became. All he knew was that he was the Patriarch of the Tsukiyuki Family, duty-bound to lead his kin down the right path.

He felt so tired.

Just a little longer, he told himself. He had to hold on. At the very least, this body couldn’t rest until Tsukiyuki Rio was ready to succeed him as Family Head.

“Yoshida, this elevator is dreadfully slow.”

“Indeed, Master. Though, I am not Yoshida. I am Nakamura.” His personal driver, standing behind him, spoke up. “Have you forgotten, Master? Yoshida was your previous driver. He died taking a bullet for you.”

Kyoichi froze.

Just moments ago, in the car, the man had clearly introduced himself as Yoshida. How had he become Nakamura in the blink of an eye?

“Yoshida was with me for over a decade.”

“Yes, Master. Yoshida was a truly rare and loyal retainer,” Nakamura replied with the utmost deference. “If I am to die one day, I also hope it will be in your service, protecting you.”

“Don’t speak of such ill omens.”

Kyoichi watched the floor numbers tick upward. A fog was settling over his mind, and the dull ache in his waist returned, forcing him to bite back the pain just to stand straight. He was on his way to Jekyll Island, after all, to meet with elites from across the globe.

“Mind your words and conduct later. You must not bring shame to the family.”

“Rest assured, Master. Even if it’s a mere class reunion, I will be the picture of propriety.”

“Wait… aren’t we on Jekyll Island? The meeting starts soon.”

“You’re mistaken, Master. We are currently in Tokyo. You are here to attend a class reunion.”

“Ah, right, right. I remember.”

Kyoichi forced a bitter smile.

The elevator stopped again at the eightieth floor. The doors slid open, revealing a sign stating the last two floors were accessible only by stairs.

Resigned, Kyoichi stepped out, muttering “class reunion” under his breath, terrified he’d forget again. He was the Tsukiyuki Patriarch. He had clearly been overworking himself lately; his mind just wasn’t what it used to be.

But that was no excuse to lose face. He absolutely refused to be shamed in front of those old codgers.

The décor on the eightieth floor reminded Kyoichi of the Tsukiyuki Products building. A black corridor stretched into darkness, exuding a cold, oppressive aura, like being trapped in a cage. His footsteps echoed dully on the marble tiles.

It was a hotel, but many of the guest room doors were marked with “Under Maintenance” signs.

“Ah, Nakamura, I remember now,” Kyoichi suddenly exclaimed. “That major event when I was seventy-two… I’ve remembered it. Riko passed away from illness when I was seventy-two. I always remembered that, but today, my memory was just so fuzzy.”

He turned around. His personal driver had vanished.

They had stepped off the elevator together just moments ago. Now, Kyoichi stood completely alone in the hotel’s frigid corridor. Leaning on his cane, he glanced around, a suffocating sense of abandonment pressing down on him. Every part of his body ached, making him grit his teeth.

His driver’s unannounced departure was infuriating, but right now, Kyoichi had nothing to rely on but his cane.

“Anyone there?”

He called out loudly.

No one answered.

Utterly alone, the old man trudged forward. Just two more floors to climb. With no one watching, he could at least hunch his back. Holding himself ramrod straight all the time was utterly exhausting. The very mantle of the Tsukiyuki Patriarch was exhausting. From his office in the Tsukiyuki building, he had countless times gazed out the window, watching aimless old men wandering the streets below, and he had envied them fiercely.

After a life of toil, those ordinary elders could finally lay down their burdens near the end. They could leisurely watch the sunrise and sunset, nap or sip tea whenever they pleased. They didn’t have to maintain a stern facade, and could smile gently at their families.

But not Tsukiyuki Kyoichi. He was no ordinary old man. He was the Patriarch of the Tsukiyuki Family, the head of the Tsukiyuki Zaibatsu. He had a mountain of work, a never-ending stream of tasks.

“So tired…”

Gasping for breath, he finally reached the eighty-second floor.

Yet, it was no class reunion venue. The space resembled a church. He saw a young man with delicate features in a black suit. Beside him stood a girl of breathtaking beauty, wearing a white wedding dress, with black hair and crimson eyes.

“Where is this?”

“What brings you here, sir?”

Seeing Kyoichi, the young man immediately approached, leading the girl by the hand.

“And you are?”

“I am Gao Sijin, and this is my wife. We are holding a wedding rehearsal.”

“This place looks very much like the Karuizawa Kogen Church.”

“It was modeled after it. You are Mr. Tsukiyuki Kyoichi, correct?”

“Yes, I’m here for a class reunion.”

“Then you need to be on the fifty-third floor,” Gao Sijin said with a smile.

“Ah, I’ll head back down to the fifty-third floor, then.” Kyoichi felt dejected. That receptionist had given him the wrong floor.

“Sir, allow my wife to escort you down. I can only appear here on the eighty-second floor; I’m unable to go to the others. My wife is different. She can accompany you from the eighty-second floor all the way down to the sixty-seventh.”

“Why is that?”

“Because those are the rules.”

The young bride in her wedding dress, a girl with a hime-cut hairstyle and crimson eyes, stepped forward and gently took Kyoichi’s arm.