Book Girl and the Corrupted Angel

by Mizuki Nomura

  Beneath his placid face, Mr. Mariya had been watching our movements closely, all while frantic, writhing, and suffering.

  Mr. Mariya was Raoul and the Phantom!

  In a turbulent, quavering voice, he went on.

  “I received several messages on my cell phone and computer from Camellia with words like murderer and fallen angel. But still she wouldn’t come to me in person. She was in a mood to torment me slowly. I’m sure the angel was manipulating Yuka. The angel had taken her away from there.

  “Yes, everything—everything!—is the angel’s fault!

  “If Yuka hadn’t been drawn in by the angel—if she hadn’t betrayed me—

  “I wanted to save Yuka from the angel! But I wasn’t in time. Yuka had been dragged into the angel’s empire underground!”

  The sight of Mr. Mariya shouting, his pupils dilated, threatened to tear my heart open.

  I was sure that Mr. Mariya hadn’t meant to hurt Mito.

  The person he hated wasn’t Mito; it was the angel who had stolen her heart.

  Mr. Mariya probably didn’t know that Mito’s parents had committed suicide, either. Maybe he hadn’t even heard about the loans.

  So he hadn’t understood how Mito felt.

  Mito had wanted to continue her music even to the point of becoming an escort, and unable to comprehend that, he’d blamed the fact that she had changed on the angel and despised him.

  And wasn’t the reason he had gone to the hotel with Sugino because he regretted abandoning Mito there and just wanted to see if she was alive or dead?

  Hadn’t he tried to save her in his own way? That was why he’d stared at the table and muttered so grimly.

  That he wasn’t in time—

  No, Mr. Mariya wasn’t a bad person, and he wasn’t a fallen angel. He was—he was—

  Just then, a frigid voice echoed through the room.

  “It wasn’t me who betrayed her. You did that, Keiichi.”

  A high, clear girl’s voice.

  It was the masked boy who had spoken in a beautiful voice like ice, clothed in the torn costume and standing against the wall.

  “Yuka…!” Kotobuki whispered, her face taut. Shoko, too, was watching his mouth as if she’d seen a monster.

  Tohko pressed her lips together and stood firm, her expression grim, and I felt as if a cold hand was stroking my cheek.

  His voice sounded exactly like Mito’s, the voice I’d heard on the phone.

  A high, clear girl’s voice that no boy could have possessed after his voice changed—

  Mr. Mariya’s face twisted wildly, as if he was letting out a soundless scream of terror.

  Like the ancestor reawakening inside Turandot, the princess of slaughter, it was as if Mito’s soul had inhabited the boy’s body in that instant and he spoke to Mr. Mariya with Mito’s voice.

  “You killed me; my body is rotting in the cold ground.”

  A chill ran through my entire body.

  What in the world was happening? Was this real?

  “That’s a lie!” Mr. Mariya yelled as sweat poured off of him. “There was no body at the hotel! Yuka’s not dead. She’s alive and with the angel!”

  The girl’s voice reverberated coldly like sharp icicles.

  “You’ve always been like this, Keiichi. You try to justify your actions and stay clean. That day, too, you attacked me for being a corrupted woman, and you tried to kill me.”

  “I didn’t…”

  “Yes, you did,” her voice proclaimed coolly. “While you strangled me, your eyes glinted like blades with the hatred and murderous intent of your wounded pride. Just like they do now.”

  Mr. Mariya was speechless with surprise.

  “When I fell down and stopped moving, you left me behind and you ran. Afterward, when I woke up, I cleaned up the blood that had spilled on the floor…You can’t possibly imagine how that felt, since you thought only about protecting yourself.

  “Or how it felt to sneak out of the hotel.

  “Or how it felt to walk down the street at night, buffeted by the cold wind…

  “Or what I thought about as I passed away the next morning, drawing my last breath in my sleep…

  “The cause of my death was a contusion to the head.

  “Are you still going to claim that you didn’t kill me?”

  Mr. Mariya’s lips quivered, and he wrung a muffled voice from the back of his throat. But it didn’t form into words.

  Kotobuki watched the boy who told the story of her best friend’s death in the girl’s own voice with a frightened, confused look.

  Were the things he was saying true?

  Had Mito drawn her last breath the morning after she met Mr. Mariya at the hotel?

  My throat twitched, and the core of my brain grew numbingly hot.

  If that was true, what would Kotobuki do? She had been waiting for Mito, trusting that she would come home for Christmas!

  The masked boy slowly raised his slender hand and pointed at Mr. Mariya.

  Like Turandot, who sang that she would never forgive the crimes of men, he cold-bloodedly declared in a high, clear voice, “You are an arrogant Lucifer. Killing me is not your only crime.

  “You taught me the wrong way to sing, and you tried to crush my throat. Didn’t you, Keiichi?”

  The greatest shock of all ran over Mr. Mariya’s face.

  We all gasped in surprise as well.

  He’d tried to crush Mito’s throat! That—that would mean—

  “No! I was—”

  From behind the white mask, a knife blade of a gaze thrust into Mr. Mariya as he retreated, utter terror in his eyes.

  The voice, which made us feel its rage, railed mercilessly against Mr. Mariya, condemning him.

  “You weren’t jealous only of my relationship with my angel! You were jealous of my talent, too! You loathed me and the angel who made my talent bloom, loathed us more than you could bear, and so you killed me!”

  Mr. Mariya swung his head up.

  “That’s not true! I hated that Yuka was consumed with singing.

  “Yes, she had a good voice. But there’s no shortage of people like that in the world, and even if by some stroke of luck she succeeded, it would only be a temporary thing. She would lose it again soon enough and would be forced to experience heartrending disappointment. That much was certain. I was the same way!” he screamed fearsomely.

  He spoke, shaking, and his expression was tortured, filled with a fierce pain.

  “When I was a child, they called me an angel and played me up as a genius. But then my voice changed, and though my technique was excellent, as soon as I got my adult voice, people would blithely tell me that something was missing or that I’d lost the spark I’d had as a child.

  “Even so, I struggled until I bled! Believing that someday I would develop a voice even more magnificent than the one I’d lost—

  “That was when, during my study abroad in Paris, I heard the singing of a real angel.”

  What did that mean? Was there a singer besides Mr. Mariya who people had called an angel? But then, why a real angel?

  Mr. Mariya’s face warped awfully.

  “That voice…! A pure voice that could never have come from a man whose voice had changed, which seemed to send beads of light tumbling from the stage—the clear, high voice I had lost—

  “That voice—I realized as soon as I heard the song that what I desired was my lost soprano. That a tenor was nothing more than a parody of what I wanted.”

  Shoko cried out, her voice a scream, “How can you say that?! Your tenor was sweet and transparent and amazing! You even won competitions and managed to work as a professional. Everyone envied you!”

  For Shoko, who had sold her body to pay her school fees and had still been incapable of succeeding as a singer, who had gotten her revenge by corrupting her students—for Shoko, Mr. Mariya’s talk must have been such a shock that it couldn’t help but push her over the edge.

  For Shoko, Mr. Mar
iya must have been a symbol of talent, standing effortlessly at the pinnacle she could never reach.

  “I would have cast off that wretched tenor for anything. It was worthless! It was pure luck that I won the contests! If only I’d had my old soprano! If I could have sung the way I did then, but no—”

  Mr. Mariya furrowed his brows tightly in pain and forced the words out.

  “Even…even when I was a boy—I never could have sung like that. It wasn’t my tenor that was the parody, it was me. Confronted by a voice like that, I was nothing more than a counterfeit angel, and now that I was an adult, I would never be able to surpass that voice again. It was a complete defeat; there could be no better.

  “When I realized that, I felt as if I had been cast from a cliff.

  “Still I couldn’t stop myself from seeking out that beautiful voice! Frequenting the concerts, I heard that voice many times. And each time I despaired. I wanted it to pardon me already. That everlasting pain—the thing I hated most in the world—was the very thing that I couldn’t help but love more than anything in the world, and I wanted the voice to free me from it.

  “That was when an elderly musician slit his wrists and died at one of the angel’s concerts.”

  Why had the musician chosen that place to die?

  Had he also despaired when faced with true talent? Or had he wished to be enveloped in something beautiful in his last moments? There was no way to know that now.

  But that incident started something, and there was a succession of people who killed themselves while listening to the angel’s album of hymns. The angel’s concerts were suspended, and he put a stop to sales of the CD.

  Trembling, Mr. Mariya told us that the angel had removed himself from public view when that happened.

  I watched him with a burrowing pain in my chest.

  “The people who dream of being artists…they’re all very cowardly and have no confidence and are easy to influence.”

  “While they’re praised for their talent, they’re up against a wall, and it’s hard, so hard, and there’s no options left for them…Even so, I’ve seen a fair number of people who can’t give up, and their hearts grow sick.”

  He’d been talking about himself—!

  Shaking visibly, Mr. Mariya took off his watch. There was the mark of a blade there.

  Mr. Mariya had also attempted suicide while he listened to the angel’s hymns. But he hadn’t finished the job. He threw away the life he’d lived up to that point, and without telling anyone, he went on a trip.

  “I wanted to forget about the angel. But no matter how far I went from Paris, that glistening voice echoed in my ears and wouldn’t leave me. That voice pursued me everywhere. Ever since I first heard his voice, I was cursed. That had been no angel. It was the voice of a Phantom leading people to their destruction. When I returned to Japan finally—finally I thought I’d stopped hearing that song, but—”

  Bent forward, gripping his head, Mr. Mariya muttered in a frail voice, “When we started seeing each other, Yuka was a kind, cheerful, average girl. She wanted to be an opera singer, but she stagnated, and she would always sing despite her confusion. I loved her all the more because, like me, she wasn’t any kind of genius, just an ordinary person.

  “But then Yuka met the angel and she changed. She believed what the angel told her over me, and her singing changed.

  “When I heard that singing, I shuddered and felt nauseous.

  “Yuka’s singing was exactly like the angel’s.

  “Why?! What had I done? Why was the angel following me? Would he keep taking the things that were important to me? I tried to separate Yuka from the angel. But I wasn’t in time—”

  Suddenly, Mito shouted in an agitated voice, “That’s just an excuse!! It doesn’t change the fact that you strangled me and then ran off without me! You killed me! You killed me! You killed me!”

  Mr. Mariya covered his ears and shook his head. The cold voice repeated the curse that would continue into eternity.

  “You killed me.

  “You killed me.

  “You killed me.”

  At that point, I got the impression that Miu had appeared there and was jabbing a finger at me, accusing me.

  “You killed me, Konoha!”

  A wild pain shot through my chest. I was swallowed up in a pitch-black whirlpool, and unable to withstand the crushing terror, I cried out.

  “Stop, please! Mr. Mariya didn’t mean to kill Mito. He just wanted a peaceful life with her. He’s not really a bad person. He’s a weak, ordinary human being like us—”

  I wanted her to forgive him.

  I didn’t want her to drive him into a corner and attack him anymore.

  My plea wasn’t a defense of Mr. Mariya, but rather of myself.

  I hadn’t had the slightest intention of hurting Miu. I hadn’t wanted to do anything to make Miu dislike me.

  It wasn’t as if I had committed a crime that deserved a punishment equivalent to having my limbs torn off while I was still alive—to be glared at with those cold eyes, to be ignored, to be pushed away with the words “You wouldn’t understand!” Not because I’d wanted to!

  Even as I felt a dizzying despair at my own weakness and deceit, it took all my energy to keep my senses.

  Even though Kotobuki was right next to me!

  Even though she was still pale and trembling!

  How could I defend the person who had laid hands on her best friend for my own disgusting self-defense?! I was awful—awful!

  Then Mr. Mariya moaned in a low voice.

  “Don’t speak for me. What do you know?”

  I was silenced as if I’d been slapped in the face.

  Mr. Mariya’s cheeks colored with humiliation, and his eyes flared with hatred as he glared at me.

  “I never had even the slightest desire for an average, uneventful life. It’s only the surrender of the common man that makes them say there’s nothing better than a peaceful life…But that’s all you could imagine. How could a carefree high school student like you understand that regret, that misery?!”

  The warm days we had spent together—Kotobuki, Mr. Mariya, and I—

  The peaceful space—

  The time that had been so important; the memories all crashed down loudly around me.

  Mr. Mariya closing his eyes in a contented smile through a gentle cloud of cinnamon-scented steam.

  His sweet words like smooth, sleepy chai.

  “I wanted the time I spent at leisure with the person I loved to be more important than anything.”

  “So I can affirm that I have no regrets about my decision. So long as I have a cup of chai, life is wonderful, and an ordinary life beats anything else.”

  My heart emptied, and the strength fell away from my body.

  Had all the things he’d said to me been lies? Were the ugly words he’d spat out what he believed?

  Freedom that wouldn’t be taken away by anything, say. I’d been captivated by his gentle smile…

  “I didn’t want to have the supporting role of the rich and good-hearted Raoul! I wanted to be the Phantom, bursting with talent, even if I was called a monster! If I could become the Phantom by hurting people or killing them, I would have done whatever I needed to! But even when I killed Yuka, I remained Raoul wearing the mask of the Phantom!”

  Was this the truth?

  Was this for real?

  How painful. How ugly. How selfish.

  How fragile love and trust were—!

  With sorrowful eyes, Tohko declared, “Raoul isn’t a supporting role.

  “He’s the main character in the story where he saves Christine by unceasingly and forthrightly loving her. Phantom of the Opera wouldn’t work without Raoul. It’s in Raoul’s light that the Phantom’s shadow first stands out.”

  “What twisted logic…! Who in the world cares about that well-bred idiot Raoul? He’s just a paper-thin nobody who only looks good on the surface. Before a true genius, he’s a pitiable sham t
hat no one would look at twice!”

  Despair and madness spewed from every pore of Mr. Mariya’s body. His eyes gleamed like a beast’s; he howled fiercely, groaned, writhed, then roared again.

  “You don’t understand! You don’t understand how I feel! Nobody does!!”

  “You would never understand, Konoha.”

  The vision of Miu, which had been haranguing me just moments earlier, merged with Mr. Mariya and spat out a shower of strident words.

  “None of you understand the first thing about it! If Yuka hadn’t sung like that—if she hadn’t made me remember that voice, I might have been able to go on living, deceiving myself.

  “The angel, the Phantom destroyed that! He took everything! I hate the Phantom! I’ll never forgive him!!”

  Mr. Mariya couldn’t hear anyone else’s voice now.

  The words of the book girl didn’t reach him, either.

  He stabbed his finger at the masked boy and screamed, “You and that girl Yuka that you let into your confidence, you both need to die! You’re the ones who should be cursed!”

  His spiteful words painted the world in shadow.

  Despair like a black whirlpool convulsed my heart and pounded against my brain.

  He was right. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand how Mr. Mariya felt or how Miu felt! I didn’t! Not at all!

  The advice Mr. Mariya had given me had been so precious to me, too. I’d wanted to be like him.

  It really would have been better not to know the truth!

  I watched as if in a dream as the masked boy lifted his torn sleeves in loose folds and pulled a knife out of the sheath wrapped around his leg with a practiced grip.