Chapter 42

3. The God in the Fire

A spark burst again at the edge of my vision.

Between the gaps in the trees, a distorted round object writhed. Its surface was scorched and cracked in places, resembling dry soil.

At some point, Kirima and Kusakabe had walked a bit ahead. I quickened my pace to catch up and whispered into Kirima's ear.

"Hey, let's go back already. There's definitely something dangerous here."

"It's normal for our job to be dangerous."

Kirima replied bluntly and picked up his pace.

For a detective, he's dull-witted. Seeing something dangerous and having something dangerous come toward you are different. It's safe to see a tiger in a zoo, but not if you encounter one in the city.

The slope opened up slightly, and instead of trees, stones about knee-high were scattered around.

"What is this...?"

To Kirima's question, Kusakabe nodded.

"They're like graves. Some are for the missing, not the deceased. It'd be sad if they became unmarked souls somewhere, so we offer memorials just in case."

"These are gravestones...?"

"There's a rule that we're not allowed to make proper gravestones."

There was no point in asking Kusakabe any further. Kirima and I stepped closer to examine them.

The stones, worn down by wind and rain, were small and white, looking eerie as if bones were stabbed directly into the ground. Kirima squinted.

"Not a single name is written."

Now that he mentioned it, indeed, there were no characters on the surface of the stones.

"Maybe they got worn off with age. I heard there haven't been any missing persons recently."

"Then the newest one should still have at least some letters left."

Kirima turned around and asked Kusakabe.

"What about the one belonging to your grandfather's sibling?"

"Umm..."

Kusakabe's answer was as vague as ever.

"If we knew the name, we could search for it."

"We don't know it."

"You don't know?"

Kirima had his back to me, but I could imagine the deepening crease between his brows.

"You mean you don't remember because of the age gap?"

"I don't even know that. Whether it was an older or younger brother, or an older or younger sister."

"How is that even possible..."

I muttered and walked around to the back of the lined gravestones. According to Kusakabe, there should be a monument, but I didn't see anything that looked like it.

Beyond the graves was a grassy area. Amidst the dense grass stood something like a stone lantern, half broken.

"This..."

The moment Kirima turned around at my voice, the surroundings darkened as if someone had switched off the lights.

Thick darkness hung over us, making everything invisible. In the suffocating silence, only the sound of sparking fire could be heard. My heartbeat thudded in my ears like it was glued to my eardrums.

"U-yuu!"

Kirima's voice snapped me back to my senses. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw him approaching with his sunburned face pale. Though it was midsummer, a chill like a dead man's skin touched my neck, and I rubbed my arms.

"It's not like the sun went down, right...?"

"It wouldn't happen this suddenly. And where did Kusakabe go?"

Kirima furrowed his thick brows. The outlines of sharp grass like blades and vague stone fragments became visible again. This was the same graveyard as before.

"That's why I said we should've left. It really was dangerous. Or is this normal too?"

Kirima only looked down and didn't argue. He seemed uncomfortable.

From beyond the darkness, a burning smell wafted toward us. I covered my nose.

"It stinks of burning. And it's the smell of human hair burning."

"How do you know that?"

Kirima looked at me suspiciously.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I've never burned anyone's hair. And I haven't been burned either."

It was the smell I'd caught when a coworker of mine got caught by some dangerous people after messing up, and they singed his bangs with a lighter. I couldn't save him, but when I got punched, he managed to escape, so I guess we're even. I don't even want to remember it.

Kirima didn't ask further and lightly tapped my shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothing. Standing around won't help. Let's look for some clues."

Just as Kirima turned on his heel, a sound like a chorus of cicadas exploded all at once.

Along with the sound, a blinding red light swelled.

Kirima and I stood frozen, speechless.

Where the gravestones had been moments ago, right before our eyes, flames surged.

No, it wasn't flames. It was a crowd of people in funeral robes. Though I wasn't sure if they could be called people. Kneeling on the ground with hands clasped in prayer, their heads blazed like candle flames.

They looked just like the villagers I had seen.

"Kirima, do you see this too...?"

"Yeah..."

The swarm of flames scorched the night, dyeing it red. Their mouths were hollow, chanting sutras with single-minded focus.

Just as the sound, which seemed to invade from eardrums to the brain, nearly made me faint, Kirima grabbed my arm.

The hard sensation brought my awareness back to reality.

Kirima pointed past the dancing sparks, like butterfly scales. A roaring sound like a strong wind echoed.

From beyond the grass, a brilliance like a fallen sun approached.

It looked like a giant human engulfed in blazing red flames. Just like what I saw in the previous village—an incomprehensible and unbeatable existence, instantly recognizable.

That's the god of this village.

The god of fire stopped. Though it had no eyes, I instinctively felt it was looking at us.

"We're retreating."

Before I could respond, Kirima grabbed my arm and dashed down the slope.

My footing wobbled. It wasn't an illusion—the ground felt creepily soft, like it was lined with animal organs.

From both sides, sparks rained down like a shower. Muffled groans came from above the trees. I knew I shouldn't look, but I did. Countless limbs protruded from the branches, writhing in flames. It was the worst.

Kirima suddenly stopped and let go of my hand.

His wide eyes stared at the bottom of the slope. A massive monument resembling a gravestone stood blocking the path. Letters were engraved in the center.

"The God in the Fire...?"

Is that the name of that fiery giant? Kirima caught his breath and walked around to the back of the monument, his face growing even paler.

"What happened?"

I followed Kirima around to the back and gasped. A huge number of names were engraved on the back of the monument.

Among them, ranging from unreadable to ordinary names, one caught my eye.

"Kusakabe..."

It wasn't just one. As I strained my eyes, I saw the name Kusakabe repeated many times. Could it be connected to that family's role in the festival? The countless scratched-in characters overlapped with the candle-headed figures in funeral robes.

"I see..."

Kirima spoke while covering his mouth.

"They said the god here burns small, evil things."

"Yeah."

"They also said they didn't leave records because as long as people forgot about the evil things, it was fine."

"So what?"

Sweat trickled down Kirima's forehead.

"Maybe the God in the Fire erases not only the evil gods and the ones it burns, but also those who know about them. The disappearances and mysterious deaths were probably caused by the god. I know gods like that."

"You've got to be kidding me..."

I glared at the characters on the monument.

"Then what about those funeral-robed figures?"

"Based on Kusakabe's story, I think someone in the village takes on the role of the God in the Fire during every festival. They shoulder all the defilement of those who know about the evil gods and continue praying to burn them all together. Kusakabe's relative was the last one to take on the role..."

"Didn't he say the festival was no longer needed? Then why..."

"...Maybe it's because we came to investigate."

"What?"

"If we had just forgotten the god existed, it would've been fine. But we dug it up. That's why it came out."

A roaring sound of blazing fire erupted.

Even without turning around, I could tell from the intense heat radiating off the ground. The God in the Fire was right behind us.

Kirima grabbed my shoulder.

"You run. The responsibility is mine."

"What are you planning to do?"

"If no one knows the god, then it's fine. Just pretend you've forgotten. You're a conman—you can pull that off, right?"

With that, Kirima turned on his heel.

While I stood frozen, unable to turn back, Kirima's footsteps faded, and the sound of flames grew louder.

No way. But what should I do?

I remembered what Kirima said. What can a conman do?

A tree branch had fallen at my feet.

I picked it up, took off my shirt, and wrapped it around the branch. I pulled out my lighter and struck it repeatedly. My hands trembled, and I couldn't get it to light. Sparks flew—and finally, it caught fire.

Holding the branch like a torch, I looked up the slope. Kirima and the god were far away.

I started running.

The skin on my palm tingled and burned.

As I ran, I thrust the burning branch into the lanterns lining both sides of the slope. Even without candles, the flames caught one after another.

Kirima stood at the top of the slope, back turned, wrapped in red light. Ahead of him stood the blazing giant god.

I raised the torch high, like a foolish city dweller who came to join the festival without knowing anything.

Two eye-like holes opened at the core of the god's flame, slowly narrowing.

The moment Kirima turned around, the darkness vanished.

When I came to, I was standing on the slope at dusk.

Small gravestones were scattered at my feet. The monument beyond the grass reflected the red sunlight with a faded outline.

There was no trace of fire.

When I looked at Kirima, I could tell he was just as confused as I was.

"Is it over now?"

Kusakabe asked in his usual vague voice. It was a sunset as if nothing had happened.

Kirima and I nodded vaguely.

We parted ways with Kusakabe and headed toward the mountain path where the car was parked.

Walking ahead, Kirima spoke like he was talking to himself.

"What did you do back there?"

I answered while kicking the gravel at my feet.

"I lit a fire, made a torch, and pretended it was the festival. If it was our investigation that caused this, then we just make it look like we came for the festival instead. Like we had fun and left without knowing anything."

Kirima sighed with a look of disbelief.

"You really are a conman."

I shrugged.

The quiet sound of insects seeped out from between the trees. The cold air pierced my bare arms, exposed because I had burned my shirt.

Kirima spoke without turning around.

"Sorry. I should've listened to your advice."

I was at a loss for words and kicked the gravel again.

"Is apologizing part of a detective's job? Just get it together, will you?"

Kirima didn't say anything more and quickened his pace. How many years had it been since someone sincerely apologized to me?

Red light filtered through the treetops, and for a moment I tensed—but it was just the setting sun.

Did I really fool the god? Maybe I did. People believe the lies they want to believe. Gods are no different.

Even if being forgotten is what the god truly desires, deep down, it still wants to be believed in.

I could picture the god narrowing its eyes in joy at the fake festival.

Or maybe, it knowingly let itself be deceived.

Even with the evil gods and the terrifying truth of the guardian god, everyone pretends not to notice despite sensing it.

"The God in the Fire, huh..."

Kusakabe's relatives must still be there.

They keep lying, sacrificing themselves to protect the village. It's unbelievable.

Lies are supposed to be selfish—something you use for your own sake. At least, that's how it is for me.