26

“P.S. I Love You” echoed around the dark-brown interior of Radio Club. In a spacious booth at the back of the bar, the one that was like a private room of its own, a quiet celebration was in progress. The participants were looking back over weighty events that seemed to have taken place only a moment ago, and were rejoicing in their safe conclusion.

“Amazing that such a place existed,” Torataro Shima said with an air of lament. “None of us knew about it. He must have been sleeping there the whole time. He must have starved to death in his sleep.”

Seijiro Inui’s emaciated body had been found in one of the forgotten detention rooms, in the second basement of the hospital attached to the Institute for Psychiatric Research.

“He must have been hiding there, building up his psychic power for the day of the awards ceremony,” Toshimi Konakawa said with a sigh of disbelief, slowly and repeatedly shaking his head. “He knew very well that it would ultimately destroy him, yet he was still wearing the DC Mini. It was embedded so deep in his skull that a layer of skin had grown over the base. Such was the depth of his malicious vindictiveness.”

“And you think he died just after that last confrontation?” asked Tatsuo Noda.

“Probably. There were no more appearances after that, until they discovered his body. Either in our dreams or in reality.” Konakawa nodded. “That last battle must have used up all his remaining energy.”

“I thought he’d gone mad for a moment.”

“He did go mad,” Tokita said before turning to Konakawa. “Did Osanai know the Vice President was down there?”

“If anything, I think it was Osanai who put him there. And I reckon they kept Himuro there as well.”

Morio Osanai had been charged with Himuro’s murder.

“Himuro. And Hashimoto. Poor blokes.” Tokita hung his head, revealing his inner torment. “They all went mad from the beginning. We all did, me included.”

The others showed a certain discomfort with that notion, and shifted uneasily in their seats. The residual effects of the DC Mini. No, that wasn’t all. The anaphylaxis effect, which could but increase. The immune hypersensitivity, which could but grow more hypersensitive. It was a fear they all felt but could not express. If only someone could make them forget it. Anyone.

“But at least Tsumura and Kakimoto are on the way to recovery,” Atsuko Chiba said cheerfully as she patted the back of Tokita’s hand. She felt proud, at that moment, of her ability to appear nonchalantly light-hearted for Tokita’s sake.

“More drinks, anyone?” Kuga stood beside Atsuko, a huge crescent-shaped smile occupying the whole of his face.

“That’s right! We haven’t had that toast yet!” Noda exclaimed, turning to Kuga. “Yes. The same all around, if you would.”

“The same all around. Coming right up.” Kuga bowed low in a state of great joy.

“And have you recovered now?” asked Shima.

Kuga gave another polite bow. “Oh yes. The collapse was only temporary. Now I’m just as you see me,” he declared, spreading his arms wide.

“He says he’s fatter than before,” Jinnai called with a laugh from behind the counter.

“By the way, it’s been known for married couples to win the Nobel Prize, but I don’t think two prizewinners have ever married each other before,” said Noda. “When do you plan to tie the knot?”

“Well, once all this hullabaloo has died down a bit,” Tokita said sheepishly. “Quietly, no press conferences or anything like that.”

“We’re really so very sorry,” Atsuko said with her head bowed.

They all laughed at the faintly immoral implication behind Atsuko’s words, which only they could understand. Drinks were brought. Jinnai and Kuga also helped themselves, whereupon all raised their glasses in a toast to Atsuko and Tokita, winners of the Nobel Prize and now engaged to be married.

“And that’s the end of Paprika, too,” Atsuko said emphatically, surveying the men’s faces as she did. “Whatever happens from now on, Paprika will not be working again.”

“True,” Shima concurred sadly. “Inevitable, really. So that sweet, lovely girl is really dead now?”

“She’s dead,” Atsuko said with a smile. “She no longer exists.”

“No, that’s not true,” said Noda, straightening up from the back of the seat. “Paprika is still alive. Just like any idol, she will live on forever in the hearts of those who met her. I will never forget her, for one.”

“But we won’t be able to meet her,” said Konakawa.

“Yes, we will,” Noda contended with some conviction. “If we want to meet her, we can always find her in our dreams. If we really want to meet her, we need only wish sincerely to see her, and she will always join us there. I really believe that. She will be an independent personality. She will smile at us and talk to us, just as she has until now. I’m sure she will. With her incredible beauty, her delicate gentleness, and her great intelligence coupled with unbending courage …”