Buying You on the Day You Were to Die, page 26
Table of Contents
Cover
Part 1: The Tragedy of That Color
Part 2: The Tragedy of That Age
Afterword
About J-Novel Club
Copyright
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Part 1: The Tragedy of That Color
“You wouldn’t happen to be for sale, would you?”
The voice came from above my head. The man I saw there was well-dressed, looking out of place in the icy February dawn at the construction site. He stepped into the dirt—more mud than dirt given the weather—in his fine leather shoes. I couldn’t even begin to guess at the price of his black slacks, yet he knelt down to meet my gaze. I had no real reason to care about him, but for some reason, I worried about the mud sullying his pristine white blazer.
Considering our surroundings, his careful movements felt awfully arrogant to me. His handsome face bore a fitting confidence. Completely unbothered by the wary stares pointed at him (mine included), he continued in a clear voice.
His gaze, now much closer than before, caught mine with its tactless frankness.
“I’d like to buy your—”
I thought his eyes looked like jewels. Those moonlike eyes, unblemished and striking, watched me with an intensity that made me want to flee.
His penetrating eyes, his voice, his smile, his very nature—I had always hated them, fearing them from that moment onward.
It was my first time seeing a three-story house.
That was all I could think about that day as I stood in front of his mansion. I didn’t want to leave room for anything else in my head, so I abandoned all other thoughts. I mean, his place had a larger footprint than my entire apartment building.
With completely white walls and a roof of the same hue, its beautiful appearance seemed totally unconcerned with potential maintenance costs. Somewhere far above, it seemed to have a spacious terrace... Or was it a porch? I noticed a table set above the wooden area, which jutted out from the large window on the first floor. Considering the footprint, there must have been a garden in the back.
Through a gap in the two-meter-tall front gate, I could see the front yard and its stepping stones that mapped a path to the building. Just getting to the front door was an entire journey of its own. Why? It was just the entrance to a private home. Who needed so much space?
I didn’t want to press the intercom button. Would a maid or butler come out to meet me? Having come in my dirty overalls from my construction job, I worried they’d shoo me away to keep me from ruining the white interior. But I had no choice but to press onward.
Even if this was a scam—or some human trafficking operation—this was the only hope I could cling to.
The man—or rather, the boy, since he had said we were in the same grade, meaning he had to be either sixteen or seventeen—had first appeared in my life that very morning. I had been working the graveyard shift, sitting on the side of the road with a few coworkers, taking a break while having my breakfast, when he’d walked up to me without hesitation. I had thought he wanted to ask me for directions, but he’d looked me straight in the eye as he asked me a question.
“You wouldn’t happen to be for sale, would you?”
When I sat there, too stunned to respond, he continued, “I’d like to buy your time—for two hundred thousand yen a month.”
It took me a while to process what he’d said. Even once I had, the meaning eluded me. It had to be a scam. Or perhaps he wanted me to sell something illegal.
Unconcerned by the fact that I had frozen in place or that my coworkers were steadily walking away—as if they were dissolving away—he simply said, “Do what I tell you and I’ll give you two hundred thousand yen a month.”
What does that even mean?
He continued explaining, unaware of his own incoherence as he thrust a piece of paper into my hand. On it was an address and the instruction to go there after work to speak with him.
It was beyond suspicious, but I wasn’t in a position to ignore it—not if there was a chance I’d make a killing.
Inhale, exhale. I steeled myself and pressed the button on the intercom. The response was immediate.
“Sakata Fumihiro-sama, we have been waiting for you. Please come in.”
I had yet to introduce myself, but the voice on the other side somehow knew my name.
I already hate this.
I got my loudly protesting heart under control and entered through the gate once it automatically opened. After twenty-three steps to cross the stepping stones and my ascent of the stairs, a set of double doors slowly opened in front of me.
Standing there wasn’t exactly the maid I had imagined; she was wearing a suit.
“Thank you for coming.”
A young woman with a kind smile curtsied at me. I recognized her voice as the one from over the intercom. Her polite mannerisms and gentle tone of voice invited me into the mansion without inspiring a drop of animosity in me.
I stepped into a pair of impossibly clean white slippers, wishing I could go home already.
After walking through the three-meter-long entrance hall, we passed through a hallway with paintings on both walls. It really did resemble the sort of “rich person house” you’d see on TV. Then we passed through a room that might have been the living room, judging by its size, and arrived in front of a closed door. When the maid opened it after a knock, the air carried the stirring sound of a piano.
I was no music critic, but I found the complex melody beautiful.
The grand piano had been placed in the center of the room. It wasn’t the sort of simple black piano you might see at school—it, too, was white, and it featured carvings of intricate patterns. The legs curled into snail shells, and the details extended to the piano lid.
On the piano stool sat the reason I was here at all.
“You really came!” he said with a big smile. He turned to me briefly, his fingers continuing their dance along the keys. I was impressed he could play without looking. He thanked the maid, told me to wait, and turned back to the piano so that he could focus on his performance. I sensed the woman exit the room, leaving us alone with the sophisticated melody filling the space. Not knowing what to make of this, I couldn’t help standing as stiff as a board.
He must have changed out of his clothes from earlier this morning into a white shirt. His perfectly ironed shirt was so pristine that it practically shone bright enough to hurt my eyes. Paired with his strange beauty, it was a sight out of a commercial for laundry detergent.
The man who had introduced himself as Nishikawa Kadzuki much earlier that day now sat there with the expression worthy of a carefree high school kid. Every time he glanced my way, he seemed genuinely happy to see me. Was he actually? I cast a suspicious gaze his way. The happiness was real at least, but its origins...?
Surely, he stood to gain something.
Ignorant of where my thoughts had led me, his performance continued. Suddenly, I heard something familiar in the melody. Searching my mind for what it might be, I frowned when I found my answer.
I’d heard it on the phone while on hold.
“I’ve kept you waiting long enough. Come! Sit, sit.”
Pulling his hands back from the keys, he motioned toward the corner of the room where a small round table with two matching chairs stood. I took my place in one of them.
“So, what’s this about?” I asked.
He nodded with a smile and got to business—or so I thought.
“How about we have some tea first?”
“How about no.”
“Not a fan of black tea? Would you prefer coffee? If you’re worried about the caffeine, we’ve also got rooibos.”
“I’m not thirsty. I just want to go home and sleep.”
“You’re not going to school?” he asked innocently, his face puzzled.
My spite surged forth, plain and clear. “I don’t go to high school.”
“But you haven’t officially dropped out.”
So, he had looked into me. A chill shot down my spine. Then again, for all his apparent innocence, I’d known from our first conversation that he knew more than he was letting on. He wouldn’t have made that offer if I were a mere stranger.
“Does it matter?” I grumbled. “If I don’t pass my classes, they’ll hold me back a year. Expulsion is just a matter of time.”
“Still—”
“State your business.”
Accepting his defeat, he moved from the piano stool to the chair accompanying mine, where he opened a drawer in the nearby sideboard. From the envelope he found within, he produced stacks of bills.
“Here’s one million.”
He placed the bills on the table with unbelievable ease. They felt like a prop.
Unbothered, he continued, “This should cover your living expenses for the foreseeable future as well as your mother’s funeral. What’s next? I can pay you daily, if you’d like. I’m also happy to cover the expenses of looking for your father.”
If he said anything else, I registered none of it.
The million yen sitting on the table formed a much thinner stack than I’d imagined. Paired with his frivolous words, it felt all wrong. I’d worked my ass off trying to make a fraction of
“I haven’t accepted your offer yet.” I felt dizzy.
“You haven’t?”
“Tell me why. I feel like I’m being kept in the dark.”
“I thought I told you?”
“Then tell me again—in excruciating detail.”
Several hours ago, he’d said that he wanted my time. It left me confused and overwhelmingly frustrated for the rest of my shift. What was it exactly that he wanted me to do?
He spoke as if he were making a casual suggestion.
“I have three conditions: One, you must go back to school and focus on your education. Two, you must get accepted into the same university as me and attend it with me. Three, you must act like my friend. We’ll renew our contract every three months for a full duration of five years. I’ll give you a million yen now and then two hundred thousand every month.”
The conditions were as bizarre as the deal itself. Noticing the unhidden suspicion in my eyes, he wasted no time in explaining.
“From now on, you will go to school every day and actually study. You will continue on to your senior year, take your college entrance exams, graduate, and attend the same school as me for the full four years. It all ends once you’ve gotten your degree. Then you’ll be done, free as a bird. That’s why it has to be five years. Five years and one month, to be precise. But that’s not a nice round number, so let’s start with a one-month contract first. Look, I’ve even got it printed.”
From the same sideboard, he pulled out a sheet of paper. Indeed, it had the word “contract” printed at the top and a space for my signature at the bottom.
“And why would you pay money for all that?”
“Thing is, I don’t really have any friends.”
“Huh?”
And why should I care? was the first thing that popped into my mind, but since I couldn’t pass up on this deal, I resisted the urge to say it. I was certain the sentiment was clear from my expression, but even sitting opposite of me, he didn’t seem to notice. His smile remained unchanged.
“That’s why I want us to go to college together and why I want you to act like my friend. Therefore, I need you to study, I need you to graduate, and I need you to pass the entrance exams.”
“Okay, but why me?”
If all he wanted was someone to play his friend, it didn’t have to be me. He could have chosen someone from his high school or even approached someone once he was in university. My question should have been an understandable one, but he didn’t respond. He wasn’t hesitating either. He sat there in silence with a smile, meaning he was watching for my reaction to make fun of me.
I knew I didn’t like him.
Once I let the silence stretch on, waiting for his resistance to crumble, he finally spoke after a while.
“Because I know you can’t refuse.” He handed me a sleek, expensive-looking pen.
He really did piss me off. After all, he was right.
I returned home with a creak of my front door.
The building must have been over sixty years old by now. The door opened to a narrow five-square-meter room with the kitchen, leading into the only other room, which was double its size. I called this place home. Now that I’d returned from the Nishikawa estate, it felt smaller than ever. It was likely smaller than his entrance hall alone. In the larger room, my futon and tea table stared each other down. If I put a piano in there, I’d have no space to sleep.
My father wasn’t around, my mother had passed away, and since I couldn’t live on my own at sixteen, I was nominally taken in by some relatives. They didn’t send me any money. They were there on paper, but I had to make a living on my own. And just like my father, they quickly disappeared from the picture.
I hadn’t been to school in a while. I had initially wanted to balance school with my part-time job, but that didn’t last long—I hadn’t lasted long. I needed stamina to make enough money to get by. At this rate, forget about college—I’d struggle to graduate from high school.
Which would be fine. It happens all the time.
Whenever I got home, I took a bath and went to sleep. I skipped dinner; I had to save money.
My musty futon felt so cozy, I could just about convince myself it was all a dream.
That morning couldn’t have been real. A servant inviting me inside a three-story mansion, impossibly huge and pristine on the inside... I felt like I’d traveled to an entirely different world and had only just returned to my own.
But of course, life wasn’t that simple. The million yen in my bag reminded me of that fact.
The sum that had always been out of my reach was suddenly mine to keep. Was it a scam after all? Was I playing with fire? I really didn’t care anymore.
Looking up from my pillow, I could see the urn, placed on a piece of fabric I’d laid out on the floor.
Inside was my mother.
She was still here, since I lacked the funds for both a funeral and a grave to place her in. Still, no matter how long it took, I wanted to give her a proper burial.
“This should cover your living expenses for the foreseeable future as well as your mother’s funeral.”
“I’d like to buy your time—for two hundred thousand yen a month.”
“Because I know you can’t refuse.”
He had come thoroughly prepared. On top of that, he’d made an absurd, frankly audacious proposal. He said this was a contract, but I knew he wouldn’t let me go, not even in five years’ time. I’d probably never see another yen from him, and before long, I’d be made an accomplice to some crime, likely blackmailed into it.
Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
My mother was dead. My father was gone. I had no family or education to speak of. Whatever future lay ahead of me, I wouldn’t be losing much by throwing it away.
What mattered most was having one million yen in my possession.
At least it meant I could give my mother the send-off she deserved.
“Do you even want to graduate?”
Sada’s tone was plenty intimidating. The school’s guidance counselor knew when to treat us like children and when to treat us like adults. He wore a stern expression this time, which of course he did, because without my ass giving him more work, he could’ve gone home early.
It was the first time I’d shown up at school in two months. After class, I was immediately summoned to the guidance counselor. Behind him, my homeroom teacher watched me awkwardly. For whatever reason, he couldn’t bear to look at Sada.
“I do, sir,” I replied simply. This was just another part of the ritual. As long as I went through the motions, it would be over soon.
“Good. You can make up for the credits you lost with an essay.”
“Yes, sir.” Straightening my back, I replied cheerfully, making sure it didn’t come off as forced. All of us would rather have been heading home now. United in our purpose, it should have been easy enough to accomplish.
Sada smiled sheepishly at me. “You’re welcome to work part-time, but remember your duty is to study. I understand losing your mother was a big shock, but you mustn’t lose sight of the big picture.”
Oh, please, tell me exactly what you understand.
What I was supposed to be doing was making enough money to get by, which was the only reason I showed up to school today at all. I wasn’t here to be lectured about my life choices, and I had no desire to be a model student.
His platitudes wouldn’t pay my tuition, would they? I wanted to both laugh and sigh, but I knew how to hide my feelings.
Smile, make it look genuine. Even knowing they get some sadistic enjoyment out of talking as if they know what’s best for you, you have to keep your ears down, show them your belly. Show no hostility, no malicious intent.
I didn’t have the power to stand up for myself—neither socially nor financially.
Don’t let it get any worse than it already is.
“Yes, sir.”
“If you’re tight on cash, tell your relatives. Ask them to give you a bigger allowance.”
