Chapter Three What the Tunnels Kept #3
"No assistants. No students. No university equipment that can be remotely tracked."
"You have considered this carefully."
"I'm responsible for everyone involved."
"You are responsible for the Ishida Family."
"In this matter, that includes you."
Minamoto laughed softly.
"I see why people follow you."
Haruki disliked the observation — not because it was critical, but because it felt too personal from a man he had not met.
"What time will you arrive?"
"Nine."
"Use the southern vehicle entrance. Someone will meet you."
"And if I decide this belongs to the authorities?"
"Then we discuss how to involve them without destroying the site."
"You assume I'll discuss it."
"I assume you care more about the chamber than proving you're in charge."
Minamoto went silent. Then he laughed again.
"Nine o'clock, Mr Ishida."
Haruki spent the evening completing ordinary work — a licensing renewal, two property disputes, a request from a local shopkeeper whose son had accumulated gambling debts at an unaffiliated betting room.
Haruki arranged for the debt to be frozen and sent two Family members to speak with the operator.
Not threaten. Speak. There was a difference, even when people pretended otherwise.
At seven, he ate dinner at his desk. At eight, Reina appeared in the doorway carrying his coat.
"You're leaving."
"I'm working."
"You are leaving this office."
"To go underground."
"That still counts."
She tossed the coat at him. He caught it.
"Did you tell Hiroshi?"
"He's handling the casino."
"Mother?"
"She knows."
"Of course she does."
Reina leaned against the doorframe.
"You could let someone else manage this."
"I could."
"But you won't."
"No."
"Because it was found on our property?"
"Because our people found it."
"That isn't the same thing."
Haruki put on his coat.
"To me it is."
Reina's expression softened.
"You don't have to carry everything just because your name is on the building."
"Yes, I do."
"No. You believe you do."
He checked his phone. No new messages.
"You should go home."
"So should you."
"I have somewhere to be."
"You always do."
For a moment, neither spoke. The office seemed larger after business hours — too clean, too quiet.
The chair opposite Haruki's desk remained empty.
It usually did. There had always been people around him — advisers, guards, Family members, employees who would answer his call at any hour.
He could not remember the last time he had been alone without being surrounded. There was a difference.
Reina watched him long enough that he wondered whether she had guessed where his thoughts had gone. Then she pushed herself away from the door.
"Try not to get cursed."
"I'll make a note."
"And don't touch anything."
"Everyone keeps telling me that."
"Because you look like someone who touches things."
"I'm deeply responsible."
"You climbed onto the shrine roof when you were twelve."
"There was a cat."
"You fell through the tiles."
"The cat survived."
"You broke your arm."
"An acceptable trade."
Reina shook her head and left.
Haruki switched off the office lights. For several seconds, his reflection remained visible in the dark glass — tailored coat, controlled expression, the name Ishida carried in every line of him whether he wanted it to or not.
Protector. Boss. Successor. Problem-solver.
People brought him disputes because they expected answers.
They brought him fear because they trusted him to hold it without showing his own.
The weight was not unbearable. That did not make it light.
He turned away from the glass.
The historians arrived at nine minutes past nine.
Professor Takeda stepped out first, carrying a hard case of equipment — younger than Haruki expected, perhaps in her early forties, with short hair and sharp, assessing eyes.
Dr Endo followed with two document tubes strapped across his back.
Dr Kameda carried sealed conservation containers and wore gloves tucked into her belt.
Professor Minamoto emerged last: tall, thin and silver-haired, dressed in a dark wool coat that looked older than some of Haruki's employees.
His gaze moved across the warehouse yard, taking in exits, cameras and security positions before settling on Haruki. Not a careless man, then.
"Mr Ishida," he said.
"Professor."
Minamoto looked towards the tunnel access.
"Is it untouched?"
"As much as possible."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the honest one."
Professor Takeda intervened before Minamoto could respond.
"Show us."
Haruki led them through the warehouse and down the service stairs.
The temperature dropped with every level.
Behind them, Family security locked each access door.
No one spoke during the descent. The historians' earlier confidence faded as the modern tunnel narrowed around them, their equipment cases bumping softly against their legs, the hum of ventilation replacing the sounds of the city above.
At the final checkpoint, Ken was waiting.
"Boss."
"Any changes?"
"Nothing."
Haruki introduced the team. Ken nodded towards the breach.
"Supports are stable. We've limited access all day. No one's touched the table, shelves or remains."
Dr Kameda's expression eased slightly.
"Good."
Ken handed out helmets. Professor Minamoto refused his. Ken held it out again.
"Wear it."
"I need unobstructed vision."
"You need an intact skull."
Minamoto looked at Haruki. Haruki shrugged.
"His tunnel."
The professor put on the helmet.
They moved towards the breach. The electric floodlight had been switched off to reduce heat near the old materials; only small work lamps marked the entrance. The chamber beyond remained dark.
Professor Takeda stopped before crossing the threshold. For the first time since her arrival, she looked uncertain, staring at the white lotus just visible on the far wall.
"What is it?" Haruki asked.
"Nothing."
Minamoto had gone very still beside her.
"You recognise it," Haruki said.
Neither answered. Dr Kameda opened her equipment case.
"We should establish a clean path before anyone enters."
"Professor," Haruki said.
Minamoto finally looked at him. There was no excitement in his face now. Only something much closer to fear.
"How many people have seen the journal?"
"Everyone who entered the chamber."
"Read it?"
"No."
"You're certain?"
"As certain as I can be."
Minamoto turned back towards the darkness. Behind the broken wall, the journal waited on the table where it had rested for centuries. The professor removed one glove, then put it back on.
"Seal the tunnel behind us," he said.
Ken frowned.
"What?"
"No one else comes down."
Haruki watched him carefully.
"You said you didn't know what this was."
"I said I would not guess from photographs."
"And now?"
Minamoto stepped through the breach. The others followed. Haruki entered last.
One by one, the chamber lights came on. Stone shelves emerged. The ancient maps. The bones. The white lotus spread across the wall.
Professor Minamoto stood before the journal, staring down at its cracked leather cover. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"This should not exist."