Maomao stayed overnight at Jinshi's villa. A funeral was to be held at the Utsutsu residence.
Ideally, it would have been kept more discreet, but having been so openly exposed to everyone around them, the funeral could not be held quietly.
Jinshi, too, was to attend the funeral.
From Jinshi's villa, Maomao could see the Utsutsu residence, where women dressed in white were filing in one after another. With their black veils, they were surely professional mourners. Quite a large number had been arranged, Maomao observed. Floral wreaths decorated the house, and servants with heads bowed low greeted the arriving attendees.
Maomao, too, examined the clothing that had been given to her. A white outfit and a white veil—the garb of a professional mourner.
"Honestly, there's no job that suits you less than this."
The one who said that was—
Maosen.
But Maomao wholeheartedly agreed with the remark. A mourner's job was to weep and mourn the dead. There was no way it could possibly suit her.
It seemed Maomao was to play the part of a mourner hired by Jinshi. Several others had been hired as well, and she was to blend in among them.
(Well, that makes sense.)
Maomao's face was known to the Utsutsu family. Hiding among the mourners was the perfect cover.
On the table sat paper replicas of coins and household goods.
"Even wealthy people don't use the real thing?"
"That's what the nouveau riche would do."
A fair point. Besides, doing so at someone else's funeral would be in poor taste.
Even so, there was something strange about the emperor's relatives mourning the dead in this manner. Some people considered the emperor to be an emissary from heaven, a figure worthy of worship.
The material of the paper money was very fine—perhaps made by the village in the thicket. Maomao thought it was a shame to burn it, but skimping on that was probably not an option.
She glanced at Jinshi. His expression looked somewhat gloomy.
Every so often, he clenched his fists tight, digging his nails into his palms.
Normally he would have teased Maomao much more. But even if he had, it would have been unseemly, so this was probably for the best, Maomao thought.
"Shall we be going, then?"
At Jinshi's words, Maomao slipped into the group of white-clad women waiting outside. Jinshi, Maosen, and the guards came next, with the procession of mourners following behind.
The residence was visible right in front of them, yet a carriage had been prepared regardless. Walking would have been faster, but apparently that wouldn't look proper.
Maomao and the subordinates who hadn't boarded the carriages walked toward the Ukiyanagi residence on foot. A canopy had been set up in front of the residence, where people entering were being verified. Jinshi's carriage had likely passed through without issue, but this group of white-clad women apparently required all manner of procedures.
At the reception, they confirmed the number of professional mourners and handed out wooden plaques. Numbers were written on each plaque.
"Come on, let's go."
At those words, the mourners obeyed.
The Ukiyanagi residence featured a garden designed around a water theme.
As they proceeded along the stone-paved path, water flowed on both sides. Willows swayed coolly here and there, and crimson pillars supporting yellow roofs were visible everywhere.
Azumaya pavilions—
they dotted the grounds. A wide pond stretched out before them, its surface dotted with floating lotus leaves. Ripples occasionally appeared on the water.
(Fish?)
She peered quietly at the water's surface and saw something opening and closing its mouth.
It was too dark to see clearly, but they appeared to be carp.
It seemed these greedy fish had come swimming over upon hearing footsteps. They were clearly well-fed.
"Hey, let's go."
At the man's words—the same man who had brought Maomao—she silently returned to the group of white-clad women.
People had already gathered in front of the residence, and a different group of professional mourners was already crying.
Many of the mourners had faces she felt she had seen somewhere before.
Even if Maomao didn't specifically remember them, she had likely seen them while working at the court. Moreover, she realized she had better not let her face be seen, and pulled her gauze veil back into place.
The professional mourners Jinshi had arranged numbered five including Maomao, but the women already crying there exceeded fifty.
The other mourners might have brought their own, but it still seemed like quite a lot. Crying out loud was supposed to be the women's job, but they seemed to be holding back a bit this time. Otherwise, it would have been unbearably noisy. They really were just crying as work, she thought.
So Maomao had to blend in and put on a poor imitation of weeping, but she felt relieved to find someone even worse at it than herself. When you rounded up professional mourners from across the capital, some untalented ones were bound to mix in. Their voices still carried a tinge of embarrassment—perhaps they were new to the job.
Crying throughout such a long funeral must have been exhausting, as the women occasionally swapped positions, front to back. They were taking turns to conserve their energy. Whether the dead would actually be moved by tears from such efficiency-minded mourners was questionable, but Maomao believed there was nothing after death anyway. They probably had no choice if they wanted to eat.
When it was Maomao's turn and she had moved to the back, someone gently tugged at her sleeve. She looked to see who it was, and found it was the man who had guided her earlier.
"I'll explain—please come this way."
Maomao did as she was told and stepped back. The trees were thick enough there to provide ample cover. With this many mourners on hand, one person going missing wouldn't be a problem.
"I was rude earlier—my apologies."
"No."
He must have spoken rather condescendingly to Maomao. She didn't mind—she thought that was only natural—but the fact that he was now being so courteous suggested he might know who she really was.
Maomao decided to ask about the situation for now. She had already heard the details from Jinshi and Ma Sen, but hearing about something and actually seeing the place were quite different.
"I was also attending the banquet at the time."
With that, the man pointed toward a building visible from their perch in the tree. It was a tower with four tiers of roofing. Thanks to its height, it could be seen clearly despite the obstacles.
"She was hanging up there."
If someone chose to hang themselves in a place like that, they had to have considerable nerve. But then again, this was the kind of person who had attempted to harm her half-sister and then taken her own life—perhaps that kind of recklessness came with the territory.
As if putting on a display.
Thinking of how devastated Jinshi must be, Maomao couldn't even manage a bitter smile. With that kind of spectacle, neither Jinshi nor anyone else could very well continue to blame Uryū.
Normally, when a daughter caused a scandal, it was the parents who bore responsibility. But in this case, the victim was also their own daughter. Even if she had been a consort who entered the inner palace, if it came to this point, it would be treated as nothing more than a tragic family affair—and that could easily be swept aside.
(Making this merely a family matter would be a problem, wouldn't it.)
Before that,
Rifa
had also had the incident with her former head attendant. At the time, through Rifa's clemency, the former head attendant had simply been ordered to return home, and that was the end of it.
Honestly, just resolving an incident wasn't always enough. But you had to keep the final outcome within acceptable bounds, or things would get very messy.
As for Uryū's clan—apart from the children and those who had already separated themselves from the family—the fact that everyone else was executed was likely the compromise the Emperor and Jinshi had settled on.
They could have squeezed out more, so to speak, but digging any further into the wound risked bringing down the entire system of governance. From a layperson's perspective, Maomao thought it was a reasonable judgment.
For Jinshi, it was necessary to establish clearly whether his daughter had been the ringleader, even if she was already dead. And that was precisely why Maomao was here.
"It was a strange sight. A woman in white robes swayed as she hung from the top floor of that tower. It almost looked as if she were floating."
That was when Maomao had a question.
"She looked like she was floating? Even if she was wearing white robes, would she really be visible from that distance?"
"About that—since it was a birth celebration, the tower was brightly illuminated. There were lights set up throughout the garden as well."
If that was the case, it made sense.
Maomao pulled a piece of paper from inside her robes. It was a map of the Uryū estate that had been provided to her in advance. Since it was someone else's property, it wasn't drawn in great detail, but she tapped her finger on the tower where the suicide had occurred.
"So the claim is that the person hanging there was your daughter?"
"She wore the same garment at the celebration ceremony. A white robe with a red sash."
"Is there any possibility it could have been someone else?"
The man fell silent at that. He simply averted his gaze and spoke in a near-whisper.
"Can you say that to someone's face?"
There was nothing one could say in response to that.
"And the body found at the base of the tower was my daughter's."
"I was told Uryū confirmed it."
"That's right."
To ask Maomao to investigate something under these circumstances was truly unreasonable.
"So the body was found beneath the tower?"
"Yes. The body was crushed and burned. A torn rope was looped around the neck."
Falling from that height, it was only natural the body would be crushed.
"Everyone saw the hanging woman and rushed to the tower. But when they climbed up, all they found was a torn rope. And when they came back down, the body was there."
"Did anyone see the body fall?"
"The servants saw it. But no matter how much they searched, they couldn't find anyone."
The body was discovered because, while descending the tower, someone noticed a strange light. The torch fire had caught the robe of the corpse.
"The servants headed toward where the body fell, correct?"
"Yes, but since they saw it from a distance, they couldn't be sure. Still, they said timidly that it seemed to be floating softly."
(Floating softly?)
Combined with the white robe, they said it looked like a ghost.
"Come to think of it, they also said it was eerie because there are so many weeping women today."
(Well, of course.)
Fifty women who did nothing but weep would certainly be eerie.
"It seems the location will be moving soon, so I'll come again."
With that, the man went off somewhere, and Maomao returned to the procession with an unperturbed expression.
Flowers were laid upon the coffin, and flames blazed fiercely around it. A young man stood there, throwing spirit money into the fire. Others burned replicas of clothing and paper flowers. It was a custom to send objects to the world of the deceased. If this was being done by family, that young man was probably her brother. For Lady Risu, he would be a half-brother.
They moved on to the next location. Because crowds of women with covered eyes walked closely together, Maomao kept accidentally stepping on the hem of the mourner in front. When she walked a little apart, another woman stepped hard on someone, sending them tumbling spectacularly. With a clatter, a numbered token skittered across the ground. Maomao picked it up and handed it to the fallen woman.
“Thank you. I would have been in trouble without it.”
Her voice was still young. This must be how she earned a living as a professional mourner.
As they walked with a clacking sound, the koi gathered again, mouths opening and closing greedily. Just how voracious were their appetites? The moment a leaf touched the water’s surface, it caused a splash.
(Are they really being fed enough, with all this?)
They must be given food, but the pond was so vast there must be an enormous number of them.
Idly, Maomao looked toward the tower.
There was a pond around the tower, too.
And she looked at the mourners again.
Maomao took out the token she had been given.
(I see.)
Maomao’s lips twisted slightly. She stepped into the middle of the procession and proceeded to step heavily on the hems of the mourners’ skirts.
At the next location, the mourning duties were concluded.
Jinshi’s errand boy arrived, but Maomao gave him a one-word message and immediately returned to her post.
Maomao listened to the unskillful crying next to her while performing a half-hearted act of crying herself. She started slacking off halfway through and was poked by a different mourner beside her.
The mourners, having finished their work, were led out of the mansion by the servants.
And at the pavilion, they were to return their wooden tokens…
“Excuse me for a moment.”
The one waiting in front of the pavilion was Basen.
He wore a stern expression, watching the mourners present their tokens.
The surrounding mourners exchanged glances, looking curiously at the mourner Basen had stopped.
That mourner’s token bore the same number as the one Maomao had held.
And then…
Maomao approached that mourner and tore off the deeply draped veil.
There was a face there, heavily made up in a manner wholly inappropriate for a mourner.