Chapter 401: The Miyama Mountain Lodge Incident

A monotonous staircase that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

As I slowly ascended, I listened intently to her story.

I had gained extremely valuable insights into the brutal mob murder known as the Miyama Mountain Lodge Incident, which took place deep in the mountains of Nagano Prefecture.

The victim, Reika Shizukawa, was the very person involved in the incident.

I had been fortunate enough to hear her candid and unfiltered perspective firsthand.

As I listened to her story, I found myself lost in thought.

How people with shared ideals—came to hate one another.

"That was during the summer of our second year at university. It was incredibly hot.

Everyone was drenched in sweat, sticky and stinking. It was unbearable. Insects swarmed around us—truly the worst time ever.

Back then, we were dreaming. Dreaming of something wonderful.

We had boundless talent and limitless energy, and with that power, we could solve any problem in the universe.

That was our dream.

Me and my friends, we attended a certain arts university.

Our majors varied—drama, film, broadcasting, and so on.

I was in the drama department. Makes sense, right?

I loved reading scripts—still do.

I’ve gone off track, haven’t I?

What we were aiming for—well, to put it bluntly, might have been called a "revolution." It had a touch of the student struggles the United Red Army once carried out.

But our approach was completely opposite. They were too ascetic, too rigid.

"Nothing worth eating unless it's enjoyable."

From the very beginning, we had proclaimed slogans like that.

And we even became intoxicated by those slogans.

We believed that people are naturally drawn to "things that are enjoyable." If we could endlessly experience that "enjoyment," we were certain we could change the world.

But in truth, that was just empty rhetoric.

Our discontent was far more concrete.

The fact that one can't make a living through art.

That living off art in today's world is so incredibly difficult.

Do you understand?... Probably not, not at all, not to today's young people.

Art back then was dead.

Back then, theater, film, broadcasting, photography, literature, fine arts, music, and design—everything was controlled by aging, talentless old men.

It wasn't about skill—this was an era ruled entirely by connections.

No one rose to the top through merit alone.

No one could rise to power without sucking up to those in authority.

In the old days, a piece of paper printed with Fukuzawa Yukichi’s portrait held more authority than anything else.

So genuine talent was completely ignored.

Everyone with a conscience was being exploited.

All creative works were being violated.

That’s why we had to spread the truth to the world.

If we continue like this, joy will be permanently lost from the world.

First and foremost, what we tried to do was simple.

Terror. And preparation for it.

We seized a mountain lodge and began our training there.

About thirty people, maybe. But that was considered enough.

After all, if we spread the truth, the world would surely awaken.

Then, second and third generations would join us, and the world would change.

Yeah, yeah. That's right.

You're not studying hard, are you! I only realized later, but you've got exactly the same overly optimistic outlook as those student revolutionaries from the past! The way intellectuals think never changes, no matter the era! It's hilarious, isn't it?

Regret? Of course I do.

I spent ten years in prison myself. Looking back, I think those times were incredibly foolish.

In the first place, I shouldn't have entrusted the core of my own desires to someone else.

What we should have done was change the world with pens, not weapons.

But we didn't do that—we caused the incident.

Katsutake Katsuya was aspiring to be a voice actor.

He was stabbed one by one by his companions using ice picks.

He had a voice like someone submerged in a sewer, weighing over a hundred kilos.

"Unable to entertain others."

Ryohei Kondo aspired to be a film director.

He gave orders for multiple men to strangle someone with strength.

In his films, the joke scene was always the same—“Pfft, fart.”

That’s why “Unable to entertain others.”

Yuji Koda aspired to be a novelist.

He burned to death along with the manuscript he had written.

His novels were absolutely dreadful.

He'd insert line breaks right in the middle of dialogue, just for "easier reading," he said.

Isn't that exactly "unable to entertain others"?

Sakata Atsushi. Aspiring painter.

When they found him, he'd been tied up and left outside—his throat had been slit without anyone noticing.

His paintings... honestly, I didn't dislike them.

But then, isn't whether a painting is good or bad pretty abstract? If you really want to criticize it, you can always find something to complain about, really.

He was a skilled painter, but his relationships with women were messy.

In the end, he alienated his companions.

Koda Kazuko. Aspiring photographer.

Starved to death.

She was a safe, unremarkable person. She only took safe, unremarkable photos.

A single flower blooming in the field, a raindrop falling into a pond, things like that.

If someone as important as Sakata-kun had died, she should have died too.

Looking back, it might have been someone's personal revenge.

Ritsu Kassaya and her child. Aspiring comedian.

They severed his neck and secured his face with wire.

Smiling with a cheerful grin.

After all, neither of them has smiled even once since coming to that villa.

I asked.

And how exactly were you caught, I wonder?

We turned ourselves in.

We realized that what we had done was wrong.

For us to truly "entertain people," we needed to atone.

In the end, we received the death penalty.

Ultimately, we were consumed by jealousy over each other's talents, and that's how we ended up causing that incident.

We were young. We believed so strongly in our own talent.

That's why... we couldn't accept someone else's exceptional ability.

Adachi was unattractive, but his performance was superb.

Kondo would have been a genius if only he'd been allowed to make serious films.

Koda was exceptionally skilled at telling funny little stories that made people laugh.

Sakata's talent went without saying, and Kayata and Kasa, too—perhaps even the baby, surely had a wonderful future waiting.

But we lacked the ability to recognize that.

We believed with all our hearts that someone was the most talented of all."

I sighed, understanding dawning.

That's why.

That's why the rules of this "unreal kingdom" came to be.

Yet at the same time, I also feel sorry for her.

Even within this "unreal kingdom," the system she believed in—where talent was truly valued—still harbored connections and favoritism.

Just as she knew me only in a limited, superficial way...

Rika, the condemned prisoner (Rika Deadman), doesn't know the true nature of this "kingdom."

"...Hey, 'Nameless' person.

You might be surprised, but I've always been prepared.

If someone overcomes my trial and takes my place as queen, I'd willingly hand everything over to them."

That was the moment.

She suddenly stopped walking, her pace relaxed and unhurried.

A hidden warehouse located on a high floor of the obscure, once-unknown Avienia Castle—its contents long forgotten.

It seemed our destination was there.