Human corpses are surprisingly not that uncommon — or so Raban knows.
In the capital and surrounding regions, there are a million registered residents.
Whether that figure is accurate is another matter — it's likely a conservative estimate.
Because of the head tax, a flat-rate levy on adults, people falsify records in various ways: claiming children were never born, declaring someone dead before adulthood, or even registering a man as a woman.
Forgetting to file a death certificate probably happens too, but there are likely more people without any registration at all.
In the imperial palace, including the rear palace ladies-in-waiting and the menial workers, nearly ten thousand people are employed.
The more people there are, the more often they witness death, and if anyone finds it remarkable, it's probably because they consider it ill-omened and hide the body away.
There are also cases of accidental death during training due to poorly aimed strikes.
According to last year's records, there were three such deaths, and eighteen cases where officers suffered lasting injuries that forced them to retire.
Those numbers seem low, so there are likely many unreported cases as well.
Civil officials, too, are driven by overwhelming workloads, and some are pushed to suicide.
"Last year there were seven cases."
Raban said this while gazing at the hanging corpse.
The hanged man was not a civil official but wore the uniform of a military officer.
"Is that a big teru-teru bōzu?"
"Adoptive Father, that is a corpse."
Rahan said something, as usual, that could have been a joke or serious.
The boy Shunketsu, who was nearby, had gone pale and was opening and closing his mouth wordlessly. That was the normal reaction.
"Lord Rahan, what shall we do? I can have the room cleaned up right away, but shall we conduct business elsewhere?"
Onso, his adjutant, asked Rahan.
"As long as it's cleaned up soon, this room is fine."
"Even if you don't mind, Adoptive Father, others will."
To Raban, a corpse was not a beautiful thing. Once a living being's vital activities ceased, it changed from a person into a thing, decaying with the passage of time.
Decay was far from clean, and to Raban, it was not beautiful.
"This room has great sunlight, you know."
Even in this season where the cold still lingered, Raban's top priority was securing a warm, sunlit spot for an afternoon nap.
A sizable crowd had gathered around—onlookers aside from Rahan and his group. To be precise, seventeen military officials, ten civil officials, and three court ladies had assembled like a pack of rubberneckers.
"By the way, who is this person?"
Rahan adjusted his glasses and narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to stare at the corpse, but he had to identify who it was. Today's work was probably a write-off.
"A military official that Lord Raban recruited about two years ago. According to Lord Raban, he was 'one of the Rooks.'"
Otomisao explained.
"The one who supposedly switched allegiances?"
"That's the one. Shall I bring out his service record right away? It's over a year old, though."
This was the Rook that had been captured on the shogi board Raban described yesterday.
Rahan had relayed the information he'd received, but he had no idea what the "Rook" looked like. Remembering faces was not Rahan's job—it was
Rikumago's
job.
"So that guy killed himself in Father's office?"
Rahan surveyed the surroundings.
The "Rook" was hanging from a beam in the center of the office.
The hanging bed
had been the reason he'd gone out of his way to choose a room with a high ceiling and multiple large beams for his office. But there was an irrelevant little detail: the man himself had been too clumsy to even get into the hanging bed.
The other rooms weren't designed in a way that would allow a noose to be hung from the center of the room.
A chair sat some distance away from the filth seeping from the corpse. It had been kicked over, lying on its side.
Raban's office appeared to have been left unattended during his absence. It had been cleaned, but not thoroughly. The long sofa that was Raban's favorite had been wiped down, but dust still lingered in the corners of the shelves.
"Hmm."
Rahan looked at the noose strung across the beam, the "Rook" hanging from it, and the overturned chair.
"Father."
"Hm?"
"Among those of you here, is there someone who killed 'Kōsha' — the man who was hanged?"
"Mm."
Rakkan pointed his chin toward the onlookers.
"Huh?"
The boy Shunketsu stared at Rakkan and the onlookers in shock.
"W-what do you mean?"
"Shh. Be quiet. The culprit will notice us."
Rohan gently admonished the boy Shunketsu. He had no intention of being kind to the man, but he figured some basic courtesy toward a boy who had taken his real brother's place was the bare minimum of manners.
Shunketsu clamped both hands over his mouth. An obedient child was easy to handle — nice.
"Which one?"
Rohan asked Rakkan.
"The white go stone."
It might look like a go stone to Rakkan, but Rohan couldn't tell the difference. Rohan squinted.
"Ah."
The onlookers were gradually dispersing. The culprit might slip away, but Rakkan's lieutenant Onsō had kept a solid lock on them. He wasn't quite on Rikuson's level, but this man was also the type who was good at remembering faces.
"Onsō."
Rohan, still thinking this was going to be a hassle, looked at Rakkan's lieutenant.
"Lord Rohan. You're not thinking of leaving everything to me alone and going off to attend to your business, are you?"
Onsō flashed a crooked grin and grabbed Rohan's shoulder. He apparently had some martial arts training — his grip was strong and it hurt.
Rohan sighed, wondering what to do, and looked at Rakkan.
"I want to sleep. But first,
Maomao—
I want to go see."
Rakkan's mind was built in a way that ordinary people couldn't comprehend. He could arrive at answers without formulas, but the steps leading there were completely opaque. No matter how high his accuracy rate was, building a case was difficult.
"Let me see..."
Rahan called over a subordinate who was nearby.
"Go to the medical office and
regarding the unnatural death —
have them conduct an autopsy."
"Isn't it a hanging case?"
"Call it an unnatural death. Come to think of it, since this is a rare opportunity, couldn't we also invite the apprentice physicians who've just returned to duty? There's a valuable fresh corpse on hand, so it should be excellent for their studies."
Rahan had said obliquely, "Bring Maomao." He wouldn't say it outright, but doing this would bring Maomao roughly eight times out of ten. If that happened, the listless Rakkan would probably shape up a little.
Rakkan would provide the answer, but an answer alone was not an explanation.
Rakkan would point to the culprit. Rahan and the others had to find the method and the motive.
And so, Rahan pushed up his glasses and sighed, lamenting that he would have to gaze upon unsightly things once more.