Chapter 4: The Chief Priest’s Motive

Takada Shōji’s eyes sparkled with excitement as his voice brimming with admiration. "As expected of Ōgami-kun! That’s definitely the truth!"

Ōgami Yōsuke scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. "It’s nothing, really. I’m just guessing. But don’t you think it’s strange? Natsuhime didn’t even notice the change in her own voice. That’s suspicious, isn’t it?"

"Exactly! You’re amazing, Ōgami-kun! You figured it out so easily!"

"Yeah, it’s like you’re a real detective or something!"

"It really feels like I’m reading a mystery novel!"

The room buzzed with excitement, but Yomikawa remained quiet, her attitude unreadable. She clapped softly, almost mechanically, as if humoring the group. When the others turned to her, expecting her to weigh in, she finally spoke, "If Ōgami-kun wrote a mystery novel with that idea, I’m sure he might become a best-selling author overnight."

Ōgami blinked, caught off guard. "Huh? Senpai, do you… disagree?"

Yomikawa tilted her head slightly, as though she were piecing together a puzzle only she could see. "Your explanation is perfect for an ordinary urban legend. But when it comes to the legend of Lord Mask-Taker… it feels a little off."

Behind his mask, Kagehara Tetsuya’s eyes narrowed. He had been thinking the same thing, though his reasoning was rooted in a deeper analysis of the legend itself. Yomikawa’s words, however, carried a strange certainty—as if she knew Ōgami’s theory was wrong but couldn’t quite articulate why.

The legend was clear: Hanako had wished to swap voices with Natsuhime on the night they exchanged identities, and the wish had come true the very next day. Yet, according to Ōgami’s guess, the voice swap had happened on the fourth day. Yomikawa, however, seemed to know something more—something that contradicted Ōgami’s conclusion.

As Kagehara mulled this over, Yomikawa’s voice broke through his thoughts. "What do you think, Kagehara-kun?"

Perhaps because they were wearing masks, or because the atmosphere had already warmed up, the other clubmembers also turned their gazes toward him. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking, "The problem with the legend of Lord Mask-Taker isn’t the story itself. Hanako’s seventh wish… it might not even matter. When you look closely, there are too many inconsistencies. Too many things that don’t add up."

Takada Shōji’s face darkened immediately, his lips tightening into a thin line. But before he could retort, Ōgami Yōsuke, seated beside him, spoke up, his voice calm but curious. “For example?”

Kagehara Tetsuya’s gaze didn’t waver. “For instance, why did Natsuhime agree to Hanako’s request to swap identities in the first place? If she wanted to help Hanako, she could have simply scolded the servants directly. Why go through such an elaborate charade?”

Ōgami Yōsuke hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Well…” He trailed off, unable to find an answer.

Kagehara pressed on,“And another thing—when the Chief Priest confronted Hanako, why did she break down so easily? She had made countless wishes to steal Natsuhime’s identity. If she had just held her ground, refused to admit anything, the priest might not have been able to prove a thing.”

Ōgami’s fingers tapped lightly against the desk as he considered this. “Maybe the Chief Priest, as a religious figure, held some inherent authority?” He paused, then shook his head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. If Hanako feared the priest, she wouldn’t have dared to steal Natsuhime’s identity in the first place.”

Kagehara’s expression didn’t change. He had expected Ōgami to struggle with the answers. His eyes shifted to Yomikawa, who had been silent throughout the exchange. “Those questions are strange enough, but what’s truly baffling is this: why did the Chief Priest later help Hanako cover up the truth?”

The room fell silent. 

“What are you talking about? The priest was Natsuhime’s father!”

“He helped Hanako hide information? 

"How is that possible? Hanako was the one who killed Lady Natsuhime!" 

This time, even Ōgami Yōsuke didn’t understand what Kagehara Tetsuya was saying. "Kagehara-kun, could you explain?" 

Kagehara Tetsuya looked at Yomikawa, who had remained silent. “Let’s consider this: if the story of Lord Mask-Taker is based on real events, who recorded it? Who passed it down through generations?”

Takada scoffed, crossing his arms. “Isn’t it obvious? The villagers, of course.”

Ōgami, however, didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to the table, his mind racing. Kagehara continued, “If it was the villagers who recorded the story, how did they know the exact details of Hanako’s wishes? The timing, the content—those are things only Hanako herself would have known.”

Takada opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. His eyes narrowed as he processed the implication. “Well, obviously, Hanako must have told the Chief Priest during their confrontation. He would have—” He cut himself off as the realization hit him.

The room was heavy with the scent of old wood and the faint tang of sulphur that clung to the inn’s walls. The dim light from the candle cast long shadows across the faces of the high schoolers gathered in a tight circle. At this point, Ōgami Yōsuke, who had already figured it out, his features illuminated by the flickering light, leaned forward, his voice low but cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Think about it,” he spoke up with disbelief, “If the Chief Priest hadn’t forced Hanako to reveal her wishes during their confrontation, this part of the story wouldn’t exist. It couldn’t have been passed down. Only Hanako knew the details of what she wished for. No one else.”

“But if the Chief Priest did interrogate her—and we know he did—he wouldn’t have stopped until he had every last detail. Every single wish.”

“The story says that when Hanako faced the Chief Priest, she broke. She couldn’t keep up the act anymore. By then, she’d lost the will to resist. So, logically, she would’ve told him everything. All seven wishes. Every detail.”

He leaned back slightly, “But here’s the thing. Only the first six wishes were passed down. The details of those six are known, but the seventh? Nothing. Not a word.”

“The Chief Priest was Natsuhime’s father. If he knew all seven wishes, why didn’t he tell anyone? Why keep the last one hidden?”

The room fell silent again, the only sound the faint rustle of fabric as someone shifted uncomfortably.

No one answered. The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken, like a secret too dangerous to voice. The candle flickered, and for a moment, the shadows seemed to close in around them, as if the inn itself was listening.

These thoughts swirling in Kagehara Tetsuya’s mind weren’t born of the moment. They had taken root months ago, after he’d stepped out of the juvenile detention center. While pondering the motives of the Makeup Hunter, he had tried to connect it to the legend of Lord Mask-Taker and had done quite a bit of research. 

However, during the Meiji Restoration era, Lord Mask-Taker’s shrine had fallen into disrepair, and all related rituals had ceased. It was impossible to consult the shrine’s priests, so he had discussed the matter online with many people, assuming the story was based on real events. 

Later, he concluded that the legend of Lord Mask-Taker was too supernatural, belonging to the same category as myths like the Snow Woman-Yuki Onna or the Crane’s Gratitude. Trying to analyze its logic from a folklore perspective was too demanding. 

And besides, he wasn’t a detective. The Makeup Hunter case wasn’t his burden to solve. Thus, he gave up on this line of research. 

But now, as he sat in the cramped room, the hum of his classmates’ chatter filling the air, the legend of Lord Mask-Taker had returned to haunt him. The face swap—his face, stolen and worn by another—had thrust him back into the shadow of the myth. The story of Lord Mask-Taker demanded to be re-examined. 

Takada Shōji blinked, finally shaking off the fog in his mind. His jaw tightened as he shot a glare at Kagehara Tetsuya, who had stolen the spotlight. "Maybe Hanako’s seventh wish just wasn’t important enough to record," he snapped, his voice edged with irritation. "Or maybe she died during the interrogation. Either way, claiming the Chief priest deliberately hid it is a stretch, don’t you think?"

Kagehara Tetsuya leaned back casually, "Think what you want," he said with a shrug, his tone dismissive.

But Ōgami Yōsuke, ever the methodical one, shook his head. "That doesn’t add up," he said, his voice calm but firm. "If we’re assuming the story is based on real events, the legend of Lord Mask-Taker was passed down orally through generations. Most villagers knew the tale. Even if some details were forgotten over time, cross-referencing multiple accounts would’ve filled in the gaps."

"The Chief priest only told the villagers about the first six wishes and the timing of the seventh. That’s the only logical explanation."

But the question lingered, unspoken: Why? Why would the Chief priest conceal the seventh wish? Ōgami Yōsuke didn’t have an answer, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

Kagehara Tetsuya, however, was already miles ahead. His mind wasn’t on the Chief priest’s motives—it was on something far more unsettling.

Lord Mask-Taker’s power was real.

In the story, after Hanako’s execution, strange incidents began plaguing the village. They only ceased after the Chief priest built the shrine to Lord Mask-Taker. Kagehara couldn’t help but draw parallels to the eerie events unfolding around him now.

He didn’t believe in ghosts. The idea of Hanako’s vengeful spirit haunting the village was absurd to him. Even if she had possessed some kind of ability in life, death would have erased it entirely.

So the real question was:

Did Hanako really die?

Was the person executed by the Chief priest truly Hanako?

Perhaps the Chief priest had harbored the same doubts. The fact that the strange incidents stopped after the shrine was built suggested a compromise—a deal struck in the shadows.

His gaze settled on Yomikawa, who sat at the head of the circle, her kitsune mask obscuring her expression. The mask’s sly grin seemed to mock him, as if it knew something he didn’t.

“Senpai,” Tetsuya began, “what do you think was the Chief Priest’s motive for helping Hanako hide the information?”

The room fell silent. The other members of the Folklore Club all turned their heads toward Yomikawa. The weight of their collective curiosity pressed against the stillness.

Yomikawa tilted her head slightly, the kitsune mask catching the light as she rested her chin on her hand. Her voice, calm and measured, broke the silence. “Huh? That’s strange, Kagehara-kun. Why are you asking me? I’ve never really thought about it.” She paused, her tone light but edged with something unreadable. “Besides, isn’t it just your speculation that the Chief Priest helped Hanako? There’s no proof, right?”

Yomikawa’s reaction left Kagehara Tetsuya even more puzzled. Was he wrong? Or did Yomikawa also not know the correct answer? 

Before he could press further, Takada Shōji clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Alright, alright, enough about that old, dusty story! Let me tell you all something really interesting. I heard this crazy urban legend the other day…” His voice rose with theatrical flair, and the others leaned in, eager for the distraction.

At 9:30 PM, Yomikawa stood, brushing off her yukata. “That’s it for tonight, everyone. Another successful gathering.”

Tetsuya rose quickly, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Senpai, wait. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. Do you have a moment?”

No matter what, he still wanted to talk to Yomikawa privately. 

But perhaps the invitation was too abrupt, as the other club members immediately turned their attention to him, and the atmosphere grew tense. 

Yomikawa turned to face him, the kitsune mask’s grin unwavering. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a light wave of her hand, she replied, “Hmm, I probably don’t have time today, Kagehara-kun. Let’s talk next time, okay?”

The tense atmosphere eased slightly. 

“Senpai, let’s go to the hot springs!”

Yomikawa nodded. “Sure, but I need to stop by my room first. You all go ahead.”

The two girls and Yomikawa exited the room first, their footsteps fading down the hallway. Kagehara Tetsuya lingered, he couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip away, but Ōgami Yōsuke, ever perceptive, had other plans. The boy suddenly reached out, his hand clamping down on Kagehara’s arm with surprising firmness.

“Kagehara-kun,” Ōgami said, “let’s head to the hot springs too. I’d like to hear more about the story of Lord Mask-Taker. You’ve got me curious.”

Given the current situation, Kagehara Tetsuya couldn’t risk anyone seeing what lay beneath his mask. Forcing a grimace, he clutched his abdomen. “Ah, sorry, Ōgami. I’ve got a bit of a stomachache. I need to hit the bathroom first.”

"It’s okay, I’ll go with you," Ōgami Yōsuke said, his curiosity exceeding all reasonable limits.

The bathroom was dimly lit, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Kagehara Tetsuya chose the stall at the far end, hoping to create some distance. But Ōgami, ever persistent, didn’t take the hint. He initially thought about standing outside the door to chat but then decided that might be too awkward and entered the adjacent stall.

“Kagehara-kun,” Ōgami called out, his voice echoing off the tiled walls, “can you hear me?”

Kagehara couldn’t afford to ignore him—Ōgami was too observant. With a resigned sigh, he muttered a vague acknowledgment. It wasn’t that he disliked Ōgami. In fact, compared to the bumbling Takada, Ōgami’s sharp wit made him far more tolerable.

The situation was spiraling out of control. Yomikawa had rejected his request for a private conversation, and time was running out. If Hanako’s wishes held true, their voices would swap tonight, and their identities would follow. He couldn’t keep the mask on forever. By tomorrow, the truth might be out.

And yet, here he was, trapped in a bathroom stall with Ōgami Yōsuke, who seemed determined to unravel the mystery of Lord Mask-Taker. Kagehara could almost feel the weight of Ōgami’s curiosity pressing against the thin partition between them, as if to say, "If you don’t discuss Lord Mask-Taker’s story with me, I won’t let this go." 

Kagehara Tetsuya even felt that if he tried to leave forcefully, Ōgami Yōsuke would definitely stop him. If the mask, which wasn’t very sturdy to begin with, fell off during the struggle…

After weighing the pros and cons, Tetsuya decided that he would have to play along.

Nearly twenty-five minutes had passed when Ōgami Yōsuke finally stepped out of the bathroom, a look of quiet satisfaction on his face. Kagehara Tetsuya lingered behind, waiting another minute or two before slipping out into the dimly lit hallway.

The second floor of the inn was cloaked in an eerily stillness as the clock neared ten. The only sound Tetsuya could hear was the rhythmic pounding of his own heartbeat, loud and insistent in his ears.

He moved cautiously, his mind sharp and focused. Yomikawa’s room was the fifth door on the left side of the staircase—room 221. He crossed the landing, his footsteps light, his breathing shallow. The numbers on the doors ticked by: 211, 212, 213, 214...

Then it hit him—a faint, metallic tang in the air.

Tetsuya paused, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. The smell grew stronger with each step, unmistakable now.

Blood.