Chapter 162: Showa Year Forty-Four

“Back then, Missy was really… full of childlike innocence.”

“Ah……”

As they spoke, they arrived at a Tea Room.

The Old Butler knelt on a cushion, brewing tea for them.

Yuki Asahi, seeing this, naturally sat opposite the Old Butler and helped hand over the tea utensils.

The Old Butler glanced at him, a trace of approval flashing in his eyes.

“Lord Yuki is truly a gentle young man.”

“For Missy to have a friend like you, this old one is very gratified.”

“I…”

Yuki Asahi was about to say a few modest words, but Jiang Jian Yue interrupted him.

“Shima-sensei.”

Jiang Jian Yue got straight to the point.

“Have you worked here for a long time?”

The Old Butler’s hand paused as he brewed tea.

“This old one was employed by the Master of the House in… Shōwa 56.”

Shōwa 56.

Yuki Asahi had no concept of this year, but Jiang Jian Yue’s heart suddenly sank.

Shōwa 56 was 1981 in the Gregorian calendar.

A face flashed through her mind—her father’s, looking at most thirty years old.

“1981? Then… my father… how old is he this year… really?”

The Old Butler’s clouded pupils contracted slightly.

He put down the tea whisk and bowed his head slowly.

“Missy, the age of the Master of the House… this old one dares not presume to speak.”

He paused, as if weighing his words.

“Moreover… this old one is already aged, perhaps the year is mistaken.”

“Please have some tea.”

He raised the tea bowl and handed it to Jiang Jian Yue, his posture respectful, but unmistakably ending the topic.

Jiang Jian Yue and Yuki Asahi exchanged a glance, both seeing deep confusion in the other’s eyes.

After finishing the tea, the Old Butler led them through a deeper corridor to an isolated side courtyard at the back of the mansion.

It was even more quiet here, even a bit cold.

A small Buddhist hall stood silently in the courtyard.

“Please.”

The room was very dark.

At the center, on the Buddhist altar, a plain white memorial tablet was enshrined.

There was no photo.

The symbol on the tablet had no name—only the word Meiguan was written.

The Old Butler lit incense and handed it to Jiang Jian Yue.

Jiang Jian Yue took it, bowed mechanically, and placed the incense in the burner.

Blue smoke curled upward, carrying a faintly bitter sandalwood scent.

She stared at the tablet, feeling no emotion—only a slight curiosity as to why the word “Meiguan” was written on it.

Yuki Asahi stood behind her, imitating her gesture and bowing respectfully.

Though he had no idea who this tablet commemorated.

When the ritual ended, Jiang Jian Yue straightened her body.

“Shima-sensei.”

“Yes.”

“My… mother.”

She chose her words carefully.

“Why… isn’t there even a single photo?”

She had never asked this question before.

In her chaotic period, she wouldn’t have asked.

After awakening, living in luxury, she couldn’t be bothered to ask.

But now, she was curious.

The Old Butler was silent for a moment, his aged face showing a trace of difficulty.

“Missy, forgive this old one’s bluntness.”

He sighed.

“In fact, this old one… has never seen Madam, either.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

The Old Butler lowered his gaze.

“When this old one was hired, Madam was already living in this side courtyard.”

“She never stepped outside her room. All her meals were delivered to the door by special staff.”

“The Master of the House would come to visit, but… none of us servants ever saw Madam’s face.”

“Until the year you were born…”

Jiang Jian Yue frowned.

This didn’t sound like seclusion.

It was more like… imprisonment?

A living person, locked in a room, dying there of childbirth?

“Then… her… belongings?”

Jiang Jian Yue pressed on.

“There must be… something left behind, right?”

A faint light appeared in the Old Butler’s cloudy eyes.

“Ah, speaking of that…”

“After Madam passed, the Master of the House personally sealed her room.”

“However, he moved some of Madam’s boxes to the Storehouse in the rear courtyard.”

“The Master said those were… unimportant old items. Perhaps… you might find what you’re looking for there.”

Jiang Jian Yue turned immediately.

“Take me there.”

The Storehouse—a type commonly found in Japanese mansions, used to store valuable items.

Its walls were thick, usually with a single heavy iron door.

The Old Butler shakily pulled out an old set of keys and unlocked the large brass lock.

“Clank—”

The heavy door was pulled open, and a wave of camphor mixed with dust poured out.

Yuki Asahi couldn’t help coughing twice.

It was dark inside, lit only by the light from the doorway.

Inside, various boxes were piled high, along with some furniture covered by white cloth.

“Madam’s… ah, the late Madam’s belongings should be over there.”

The Old Butler pointed to several Kiri Wood Boxes sealed with tape in the corner.

Jiang Jian Yue walked over. The tape had long since yellowed and turned brittle.

She tore it open and opened the first box.

Inside were some old clothes, with styles so odd that they didn’t match the era as she knew it.

Yuki Asahi also crouched down to help, opening the second box.

Inside were… some business ledgers?

Yuki Asahi flipped one open casually, and the date on it made him freeze.

Shōwa 38 (1963).

That was almost half a century ago.

“Yue, look at this…”

Jiang Jian Yue ignored him, struggling to pull an unlocked wooden box from under a pile of canvases.

She brushed off the dust and opened the lid.

The contents were a mess.

A few flowers, long since dried and blackened.

A child’s drawing, wobbly lines, looking like… a robot?

And a stack of old photos.

Jiang Jian Yue’s heartbeat skipped.

She picked up the stack.

The first was a landscape.

The second, also a landscape.

The third…

Her breath caught.

It was a slightly faded color photograph.

In it was a woman, her face in profile to the camera, vivid red pupils staring at something outside the frame.

Her long white hair was pressed beneath a bright red helmet.

On the side of the helmet, two large English letters—ML—were spray-painted in white.

Though wearing a helmet, the eyes, the flirtatious tilt, the curved eyebrows…

“Yue…”

Yuki Asahi leaned over, looking at the photo, then at Jiang Jian Yue, murmuring.

“It’s similar. Really similar.”

Jiang Jian Yue said nothing.

She only noticed the exaggerated arc stretched across the chest of the woman’s T-shirt in the photo.

What the heck!

Did this gene mutate halfway?

She felt a blow to her soul.

This… this woman was her “mother”?

Yuki Asahi carefully pulled the photo from her hand, his finger brushing the back.

“Yue, there’s something written on the back.”

Jiang Jian Yue snapped back to herself, grabbed the photo, and flipped it over.

On the yellowed back, a line of elegant Chinese characters was written in ballpoint pen.

Taken in Shōwa 44.

Yuki Asahi repeated in a daze.

“Shōwa… 44?”

He counted on his fingers.

“That would be… 1969?”

Jiang Jian Yue was seventeen this year.

A woman in a photo from 1969 gave birth to her thirty-seven years later?

The timing didn’t add up.

But to say she had nothing to do with the girl in the photo felt off, too.

They looked too alike.

The woman in the photo was practically an adult version of Jiang Jian Yue—though Jiang Jian Yue felt she’d never develop to that level no matter what.

“This is… Yue’s mother?”

Yuki Asahi asked quietly.

It was only when questioning the Old Butler earlier that Yuki Asahi realized this memorial was for Jiang Jian Yue’s mother.

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

Yuki Asahi blinked, confused.

“I’m not familiar with her. She died in childbirth. Today… is her death anniversary.”

Jiang Jian Yue stared at the photo, lost in thought.

Yuki Asahi’s mouth opened slightly.

So… today was Jiang Jian Yue’s birthday?

It was such a sorrowful day of life and death—Yuki Asahi didn’t know how to comfort her and could only say softly:

“My condolences.”

Condolences for what!

Do I look the least bit sad?

Jiang Jian Yue couldn’t muster any sorrow for someone she didn’t know at all.

“Can I go… see her room…?”

Jiang Jian Yue shoved the photo into her pocket, then into her storage space, and turned to the Old Butler.

The Old Butler hesitated, then bowed slightly.

“Whatever Missy wishes to do, there’s no need to seek this old one’s permission.”

The two left the Storehouse and walked to the door of the side room.

The edge of the veranda showed no dust—evidently, Shima-sensei had not neglected its cleaning.

Jiang Jian Yue tore off the yellowed tape, symbolizing more than a decade of sealed history.

She hesitated not at all, pressing her palm against the cold wooden door and pushing hard.

Creak—

A deep, drawn-out scraping echoed through the silent side courtyard, making Yuki Asahi tense up instinctively.

As the door opened, a wave of dust, mold, camphor balls, and some… indescribable smell rushed out.

Yuki Asahi couldn’t help but wave a hand before his nose.

It was dark inside.

The heavy Fusuma blocked out the light.

The Old Butler did not follow them in.

He bowed at the door, then silently retreated, as if the space no longer permitted his presence.

Yuki Asahi groped along the wall and found an old rotary switch.

Click.

The light did not come on.

“…Is the power out?”

Yuki Asahi’s voice echoed hollowly in the empty room.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She stepped inside, the Tatami underfoot creaking.

She walked to the window, stretched out a hand, and pushed open the heavy wooden frame and Fusuma together.

“Cough! Cough!”

Years of accumulated dust were stirred by the inrushing air and danced in the sudden sunlight.

Yuki Asahi coughed, and Jiang Jian Yue stood in the light, dust settling on her black skirt and hair.

Light finally illuminated the sealed space.

Yuki Asahi waved away the dust, eyes wide as he finally saw the room clearly.

This… this wasn’t a woman’s bedroom.

Not at all.

The room was large, but devoid of any signs of daily life.

No dressing table, no soft bed, not even a wardrobe.

Instead, rows of tall metal shelves were crammed with all sorts of parts and tools that Yuki Asahi couldn’t begin to understand.

On one side was a massive wooden workbench, littered with all kinds of precise tools—a soldering iron, welding gun, Oscilloscope, and strange metal components.

A few yellowed blueprints were spread across the table, covered in German and English annotations—complicated circuit diagrams and mechanical schematics.

“What is this place, really?”