Archive of Our Own

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« By wanting to forget too much, we remember constantly. »

- V. H. Scorp -

Tomorrow, it would be six years.Six years that he thought only of him, six years that he devoted himself body and soul to the one who was his greatest rival.But when we think too much about a person, when they become our only center of interest, we end up missing them. No matter how much we hate them.This feeling of lack, as if he were forgetting an important detail of the face painted under his eyelids, Edgar Allan Poe had begun to feel it barely two years ago: When he was still totally obsessed with his revenge - don't get me wrong, he still is, but he's less extreme about it - a reporter had shown up on his doorstep. Edgar had never liked journalists, and this one was no exception: in a cold - but still polite - tone, he asked him what he wanted, to which the man replied with the following sentence.- Do you know the japanese detective Ranpo Edogawa
?The mere mention of the name of this show-off had made the writer's annoyance rise, and he had slammed the door in the reporter's face, spitting out a hateful "No."He remembered locking himself in, leaving his pet - a raccoon named Karl that he had recently taken in - in a state of incomprehension. The little pet had subsequently tried to comfort his owner but to no avail, his common sense was as if plunged into a pool of ink, a sticky and dirty liquid in which it was easy to get lostIn an uncontrolled movement, like a rush towards a lifebuoy, Edgar had grabbed a blank book, and, almost breaking his pen, had scribbled, crossed out, framed, assaulted, in short, written with rage this name that haunted his thoughts day and night: Edogawa Ranpo.Since then, whenever he needed to let off steam, whether about this subject or another, he would grab the book and start writing again in all its forms, those two little words. Small sketches - based on his memories - even ended up seeing the light of day, and there were not just one or two. About a year later, he unfortunately came across the last page of his "novel"Conscientious to finish it according to the rules of the art, he decided to write the first sentence that came to his mind in calligraphy. A first stroke, then a second, an arabesques, a wave, another, a point, a trait... Contemplating the beauty of his own work, he was all the more surprised that the sentence that wrote itself on the paper happened to be « I miss you ».In amazement, Edgar let go of his pen, and the drops of ink that spread over his work only embellished it.He gently closed the book, a bad feeling had set in, as if it could harm him. Then, heading towards the large fireplace that stood in his living room, he placed the writing there and grabbed a pack of matches. But at the same moment, Karl came to stand between the hearth and him, ordering him to give up his future action.Touched, Edgar took the small raccoon in his arms and retrieved the book, whose emerald front cover he later began to embroider with gold thread, a few arabesques and the name of the person who occupied it, intentionally omitting his own.Reading it even today, he sometimes came across pages containing his feelings from that time.Precisely, today, what had become our dear writer's desire for revenge ?Well, after thinking carefully, considering the fact that Ranpo would surely come out of his novel unscathed, Edgar had found another form of revenge, a more destructive one, which would make him feel what he had done to him.So, when Fitzgerald, the head of the organization he worked for, announced that he was leaving as soon as possible for Japan and was looking for members to help him in his quest, he saw the opportunity to put his plan into action: that's how Edgar, almost a year later, was on a train to Los Angeles where he was to board a ferry with his boss and colleagues.The reflections of the passengers' faces, distorted by the windows, fed his macabre imagination. Having nothing to do, the brunette reread, for the thousandth time perhaps, the now three years old book but whose condition had not deteriorated.He absently traced the outlines of the embroidered title with his fingertip, letting his gaze drift from the text to the outside.The carriage was now passing near a magnificent forest with reddish colors, wich reminded him of his hometown, while the tear-soaked window reminded him of his childhood.He soon dozed off, believing he could deceive boredom with sleep. Sleep... Edgar never really understood what it was for, except to feed his inventiveness during his nightmares.It's a young employee who had the misfortune to wake him up, gently pulling his book out of his hands in order to make him react. The maneuver paid off because a few seconds later Edgar was up and almost screaming at the poor boy not to touch it.Scared, he had run away apologizing while the brunette stammered weak excuses.Half awake, groggy, he then headed towards the dock.- Good morning, Mister Poe, said a sufficient
voice behind me.- Good morning, Mister Fitzgerald, he answered him in a more hushed tone.They greeted each other with a handshake and began a rather one-sided conversation, heading towards the ferry.Except that it was not a boat that presented itself to him; it was a giant mechanical whale that majestically came out of the water before his astonished eyes.Fitzgerald politely invited him to come aboard, and he discovered a spacious and sparkling interior.On the order of the meeting, Edgar sat at a large table, between a man with the appearance of a pastor and a young girl with two enormous braids of crimson hair.After a long summary on their mission in Japan, on the tripartite system that reigned in Yokohama and on the different known members of each organization and their capacities, they finally arrived to speak of the Armed Detective Agency.
Edgar carefully memorized each member and their ability, down to the last one, the most important, his rival: he had an ability that allowed him to solve any mystery –"doubled with an ego far too big for his small body,” he added mentally– and was very attached to the boss of the agency.
That was all they knew about the great Ranpo Edogawa.
The meeting ended, and, frustrated at not having more information, the brunette headed to the dormitories.
If he hadn't known that the MobyDick was the result of a power, his first glance into the small room would surely have scared the shit out of him.
The only details that told him that it wasn't his real room were simply the absence of papers scattered everywhere on the floor and his personal library.
Breakfast, forgotten in the haste of leaving, as well as treats for pets were placed on the bedside table.
Edgar sat down and, after feeding his raccoon, slowly drank his cup of tea, while thinking about how he would approach Ranpo.A few minutes later, seized by a strong migraine, he decided to leave the small room and familiarize himself with the ship.He had barely opened the door that he was blinded by the light, much stronger than the dim glow that filtered lazily through the curtains of the previous room.
Having a hard time getting used to it, he slowly glanced outside: the corridors were not overcrowd but people wandering around were noisy enough. He quietly, almost like a ghost, walked through the labyrinth that was the MobyDick.After a while, oppressed by the ambient tumult, Edgar began to worry. No room seemed quiet enough to allow him to calm down, and his own seemed terribly far away. He quickened his pace in the hope of finding somewhere to breath freely, until a large door stood before him. He opened it hastily and rushed into a huge silent room, probably the front of the ship.Edgar was captivated by the beauty of the place; it was literally the void beneath his feet, as if he were floating, and he could see, through the immaculate clouds, the sea, a calm and beautiful blue plain. Despite he being a fan of nocturnal forests, cemeteries and their dark chapels or tearful landscapes behind a window, this view touched him particularly, differently.

- Do you like it, Mister Poe ?
The room, which at first seemed empty, was in fact inhabited by an old man, sitting on a very basic chair in the center, a pipe in the corner of his lips.
He quickly realized that he had surely disturbed him, and, answering with a simple "yes", he apologies.The man – Herman Melville – was very talkative, a little too much even. But out of politeness and to thank him for letting him relax in this place, Edgar listened to him with a distracted ear, leaning against one of the pillars, and so on until he saw the sun set on the horizon, or in other words, until they arrived in Yokohama.After receiving quick instructions, an apartment was assigned to each of them, in which they were to remain until further orders, without being noticed. Disembarking from the ship, the first general observation was that the port city looked more like a zoo than the promised quiet city, so Edgar began to walk quickly, already feeling homesick."It hasn't changed much in six years," Edgar though.The city traffic was dense, and people kept talking loudly, between this blond man who was strangling another covered in bandages – both from the A.D.A. according to his memories –, those two redheads, an elegant woman in a kimono and a dwarf visibly on edge, this doctor who seemed gaga over a little blonde who looked like a spoiled brat...In short, several rare specimens of idiots of all kind.Yet, without knowing why, he suddenly stopped in the middle of the crowded street.A presence bothered him, and, as he looked to see who it could possibly belong to, he felt it pass very close to him. Quickly turning around, he barely had time to see a short man with messy black hair, dressed in a strange way. He was speaking in a confident and playful voice to a woman with dark purple hair, in which was attached a butterfly-shaped hairpin.By the time he recognized his rival, he was already far away in the crow.Edgar went back into his new apartment and quickly poured himself a large glass of iced water, which he had needed since he had set foot on the pontoon.
"I can't wait for this mission to end, I can't stay here forever... And, of course, I had to run into Ranpo on the first day..."
Suddenly, a realization struck him: since the beginning of the day, of the mission, his mind had literally gravitated non-stop around the young man.How could he compete with someone who monopolized his attention?Was there even a chance that the detective would remember him among all of his opponents?

Would he succeed in defeating him ?

Would he even be
enough
?
Air.Edgar needed air.He was gradually sinking into his endless questions, which stuck to his skin and pulled him down without giving him the chance to escape.Although the crowded alleys scared him, he decided to go out, and having seen a coffeeshop on the corner of a street, he decided to go there, hoping that the place would be quieter. Once there, he was warmly welcomed by the owner, ordered a coffee and sat down on one of the benches at the back.As he quietly began to drink, a small group settled behind him, chatting happily about everything and nothing. Recognizing members of the Armed Detective Agency, Edgar discreetly listened to their conversation.- You're paying close attention to our conversation, tell me, said the mummy man he had seen a few minutes earlier.He turned around slowly, looking for a plausible excuse.- I-I heard you talking about ability, I'm really interested in that subject, he stammered in very approximate japanese and with a strong american accent.The man stared at him for a long time, and Edgar thought he had made a mistake that would have deceived him.- You're not from here, are there any nice and painless suicide techniques in your country? he asked him, looking really interested.Stunned by the question, he remains silent for a second, but before he could answer, the suicidal man was knocked out by his bespectacled colleague and an argument broke out.
- Easy Kunikida-kun, Ranpo is coming soon and he'll tell the boss if you hurt me, he threatened him in a painful, exaggerated tone.At the mention of the fact that the guy was heading in the next few minutes, Edgar hurried to finish his coffee. Noticing his agitation, the so-called Osamu asked him the following question :
- What is your job, friend ?
-
I'm a novelist, Edgar answered before quickly slipping away, at the moment when the handle of the other door was loweredIf he had stayed a few more seconds, he would have seen a young man overflowing with joy opening the door with a great crash and happily greeting his colleagues."And I would have been given a look of disdain or disgust, or he would have simply ignored me... Maybe he wouldn't have even noticed me, like most people...", thinks Edgar, bitter.But all that would soon change.In just a week, he would begin his revenge, and in the end, Ranpo would be so broken, so destroyed that he wouldn't even be able to glue the remaining parts back together.
"I would come out victorious and avenged. And he would only have himself to blame for not having been smart enough."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"There is always a little perfume left in the hand that gives the roses."

- Confucius -

As so often lately, the best detective in Japan – and probably in the whole world – was bored to death. He thought back to that afternoon at the coffeeshop, when he had made a thunderous entrance, but no one had noticed him. Everyone was immersed in discussions from which he felt terribly excluded.
Keeping a very slightly forced smile, Ranpo had advanced to their table, forcing himself to keep his usual attitude.- What's going on ? he had asked, a bit annoyed by everyone's behavior.- Oh, Ranpo ! We were discussing about a stranger who left in a hurry about thirty seconds ago, had answered a little blond with the country airs, but it hadn't been enough to reassure him.Ranpo hesitated between what was worse in this situation, being offended or ignored.What right did this person have to monopolize the attention of his friends, to the point of distracting them from him, him who desperately needed their smiles and their congratulations to continue moving forward ?
- And you need my genius to understand who he is, don't you ?
The members of the A.D.A. stared at him for a few seconds with a strange look, then turned their attention back to the stranger. For him, the silence clearly meant "We don't need you and your so-called ability, we can manage on our own", in other words "You are useless".Even if he was clever enough to know that they didn't really mean it and that it was only his interpretation of the facts, it had hurted him more than he let on, and he felt inferior, he who was not a gifted.So he sat down on the bench behind them, and waited with difficulty. A discreet smell of honeysuckle hovered around him. Several times Ranpo hesitated to add his two cents to their discussion, but he understood quickly enough that his colleagues hardly needed his opinion.He scanned the room - it had become a habit of his - and noticed nothing unusual, except for this little green book.A book with his name embroidered on it.As soon as the information reached his brain – which was surprisingly slow compared to his usual reactivity –, he grabbed the book, slammed it against the table and opened it to the first page that passed under his nose.His eyelids were half-open, he was so surprised – and uncomfortable, I must be said that it is rather creepy to find a work that contains only your name in all possible and unimaginable fonts and sketches of you, what's more without the book being signed by anyone – and he quickly leafed through the "novel", looking for any clue to understand what it was doing here, and by what coincidence it was only talking about him.Having noticed his confusion, Yosano tried to look over his shoulder, but Ranpo immediately closed the book with a characteristic snap.- This stranger, did he say or do something odd, he asked almost immediately.- Not really, he just seemed not to want to linger here, given the speed at which he left, Osamu replied in an indifferent tone.Even though Ranpo knew he was intentionally omitting some details, he just sighed loudly to express his displeasure and didn't ask any more questions, remaining perplexed by the fact that his intuition told him that this person and this book had a connection, even though it made absolutely no sense.The next day, sitting in his favorite chair, while all the Agency members had left, Ranpo was still examining the book from every angle. Even though it was a work that exuded aggressiveness – as well as a kind of unhealthy need, to be honest – and which writing had probably spread over several weeks or even months, he couldn't discern the author's true feelings through the lines.

"No! How is it possible to be so slow-witte ?! What if someone finds it ? What if that someone turns out to be Ranpo and he manages to discover my intentions ? How stupid of me, I knew I should have left it home..."
Edgar's careless mistake turned him into a nervous wreck, he was sick in his stomach at the thought that Ranpo would see through him before he even meet him for the second time. He was also very embarrassed because his rival had a piece - very personal, it must be said - from his collection in his hands. He was so glad he had thought about removing some pages.But if by misfortune the detective came across it, the quality of the paper as well as the type of ink he used as a writer would fool no one, especially not him.All this had the merit of nibbling at the nerves of the poor writer who was pacing back and forth in his tiny living room. He didn't even know where he had forgotten it, it could have been at the agency's coffeeshop or the book could have simply slipped out of his bag in a moment of inattention, and he could neither go back to get it nor leave it there, wherever it was.The internal fight he was waging for and against himself was starting to drive him completely crazy, and, carried away by his madness, he banged on a wooden piece of furniture.The dresser was fine, but he felt a pain sharp enough to make him forget his Cornelian dilemma for a few minutes. His sore hand hanging limply at the end of his wrist was reason enough to stop thinking about his problem, and the kind attention of his raccoon who came to lick his wound managed to bring his tension down.Edgar stroked his head as a thank you, then went to get something to bandage his fist. "I'll have to go see a doctor... I hate doctors..." he said to himself before looking for the address of the nearest clinic and calling to make an appointment. A woman's voice answered him, and after a good ten minutes he hung up and sighed; this secretary had been unbearable.So he had an appointment with a student under the responsibility of a certain Doctor Yosano. From what he remembered she was also the Agency's doctor, and Poe cursed himself inwardly for having injured himself the day when the only available practitioner was linked to his rival, whom he wanted to avoid at all costs.The next day, when he arrived at the clinic, the secretary from the day before greeted him, looking at him slightly askance, which Edgar took relatively badly. "They really have no manners here, when someone's appearance astounds us or we don't like them, we hide it, it's the least we can do !" he thought, gritting his teeth, giving her a hated glance, invisible under his thick fringe.In the waiting room, he felt the eyes fall on him and hang on like leeches, so much so that he was grateful that the Japanese doctors were less late than the American ones.Crossing the corridor following the assistant of the clinician of the armed detectives, Edgar heard a slight argument in a neighboring room, and after a while recognized the voices of Ranpo and the woman who accompanied him the other day in the street. He listened attentively, so much that the assistant had to remind him of reality more than once.
- You... not the center of the world !..

- ... know !.. just want to know.... stranger...

- ... don't have... tell you everything... secret... just had to be there...

- If you don't want me, say it directly !

He had heard this last sentence very clearly – perhaps because it was one of the sentences that kept going through his head when he was talking to the average someone –, in any case better than the others of which he had only understood bits and pieces.A door slammed, making the assistant jump. Edgar therefore deduced that this kind of scene must not be common.Light footsteps quickly resonated in the corridor, emitting a soft melody, a mixture of anger and rejection. Others more hurried, which clicked like heels, were heard a few seconds later.- Ranpo, wait, said an almost pleading voice.The assistant looked in the direction of the voice with empathie.Once the meeting was over, Edgar came out with a prescription for medication to calm the pain in his hand and some ointment, it was nothing serious.On the contrary, when the doctor had measured him and then put him on the scale, six feet tall for only about sixty kilos and the fact that the only things he ate - or rather drank - were tea and coffee, he had also prescribed him a treatment for anorexia and advised him to go see a psychologist when he returns to America, because this disease could bring anxiety disorders, obsessive compulsive disorders or even addictions or personality disorders. Well, lot of disorders.Edgar knew it very well, but he didn't care at all, the food was bland and sickening, to the point that he couldn't eat unless he forced himself, and this for several months now.However, unlike some other anorexic people who often found themselves too fat and were therefore more or less content with their condition, he did not like his own more than that, he often compared himself to a corpse with his skinny body and his huge dark circles from sleepless nights of writing.To enter the clinic, he had had to leave his pet outside, and Karl had waited patiently. As soon as he saw his master, he jumped on his shoulders, and they both went to the pharmacy.As Edgar told him about the conversation he had intercepted, his raccoon stiffened, came down from his perch and looked in the direction of a small alley. He started running towards an unknown destination, and Edgar had no choice but to follow him. Arriving at a turning point, he finally heard the rustling of paper coupled with annoyed sniffles.Curious, he crouched down next to the wall and took a look at the source of the sounds: Even if he suspected it a little, Edgar was surprised to discover Ranpo sitting there, on a bench that had no place in this narrow little alley and most certainly abandoned, leafing through a book.As soon as he recognized the cover, the author blushed.He put a hand over his mouth to avoid screaming or making any noise, and slid against the wall, trying to calm his breathing that had become far too fast and noisy. And there it was, he could only hope, pray that the young detective would not use his ability.Suddenly remembering why he had initially come here, Edgar calmed himself down with difficulty and looked for Karl, without finding him. Worried, he inspected the surroundings as best he could before hearing murmurs that seemed to come from Ranpo.
- At least you don't judge me, huh...
As he began to wonder if those words were not ultimately intended for him, he noticed that Ranpo was petting something to his left. He could not directly see what it was, but he deduced that his pet was this "something”.- You are surely too intelligent for your species too, I hope that you at least have someone who understands you,
he murmured, too low for Edgar to hear.He continued until Karl greet him with a nod and left, trotting, towards the corner, behind which his owner was hidden. Edgar was surprised that the raccoon had let himself be touched so easily when he was usually so fearful and wary with strangers.Once far enough, Edgar scolded him severely for having almost made him discover, but quickly stopped by remembering that it was not his raccoon who had forgotten a more than compromising element in a totally random place.For his part, Ranpo felt a little relieved. After his argument with Yosano, he had almost run away; he had the impression of being back to the time of his fourteen years, before meeting Fukuzawa, when no one wanted him and when he thought he was nothing but a monster.The doctor clearly explained to him that she found him too self-centered, too curious and indolent, and instead of simply calmly explaining to him the subject of the discussion at the coffeeshop, she had preferred to avoid the subject.He knew that she did not completely think what she had said, yet her words had hurt his self-esteem. The brown and black mammal's eyes, empty of negative thoughts –well, most likely empty of any thoughts– had comforted him, and contrary to what he had expected when he had seen it approach, it did not give off an unpleasant odor, and its fur was soft and silky.Ranpo had first thought that it was tamed, before remembering that it was forbidden in Japan. The hypothesis that the owner of this raccoon was a foreigner seemed obvious to him, and he immediately thought back to the one who had left the coffeeshop in a hurry. As if to confirm his theory, the scent of the raccoon was the same as the discreet one he had smelled the day before.The owner of the raccoon was the one who had monopolized the attention of his friends far from him, but perhaps not the author of this book, the pages did not have the same smell at all, it smelled more like ashes and old books. It’s with this idea in mind that Ranpo returned home, eager to know more.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

« The most beautiful stories always start with wreckage. »

- Jack London -

The letter Ranpo had received was simple, correct, and in a beautiful and neat handwriting.However, it was absolutely not the same as in the green book, so he ruled out for good the theory that this stranger and the book were linked.He had remained in awe, more captivated by the presentation of the text than by its content.He had not understood the first kanji, which read "dear", followed by his name, but had guessed that it was simply a foreign polite formula.And then, there was this air of defiance that hovered around this piece of paper: the author was proposing a confrontation, a duel that relied on intelligence.Frankly, Ranpo was bored, it seemed really simple, almost like a trap, and he did not want to make the effort. But the font intrigued him, it was not common to receive letters written in the style of a novel. So, driven by his insatiable curiosity, he went, with the help of Yosano –because despite his intelligence, his sense of direction left to be desired–, in front of a large building. The walk was made in the greatest silence, some events still too recent.Inside, Edgar, who had been waiting since the beginning of the day in a dark room, anxious and impatient, was nervously cracking his fingers. While the confrontation between the organizations was in full swing, he was sitting on a chair waiting for the enemy, moreover to give him information that would put the Guild's mission in loss.
And to top it all off, he had done absolutely nothing, one could almost have believed that he was not part of the American organization at all.Feeling useless is a detestable feeling.
"But, hey ! it's nothing new, I'm used to it now... ”
During the first week that Fitzgerald had asked them not to draw attention to themselves, he had been content to gather as much information as possible about Ranpo and the armed detectives, based on the gossip and rumors he heard in the coffeeshop or on the streets. Some of it was very useful while on the contrary there were some things that Edgar would have preferred never to have heard.When footsteps echoed in the corridor, and the first part of the heavy door moved, his anxiety redoubled in intensity and he immediately came out of his thoughts. The little self-confidence he had melted like snow out in the sun and he had only one desire left, to lock himself in his own story or disappear underground.But he had to hold on.Suddenly, the door opened completely and the writer held his breath. He met his rival's gaze and, despite his thick fringe, their pupils locked for a moment.Some, shining with malice like two aventurines, almost seeming to be able to read the other as in an open book.The others, elusive, hidden, but of a dark gray resembling the nuances of the stormy sky.Edgar's lips trembled, no word wanted to escape; he did not expect that seeing his rival would shock him so much. The tiranesque image that he had made of Ranpo had faded a little, but not enough to make him change his mind.As for the detective, his memory was infallible. As soon as he saw the face of this man that he had not forgotten despite the years, his first reaction was defensive, expecting anyone but him, the coincidence of the raccoon on his shoulders inciting him even more.A tense atmosphere settled, and after sizing each other up for a few seconds, the taller of the two men began to speak.
[...]
The experience was very peculiar, but Edgar had played his acting game wonderfully, even if he only had to hide certain details and to rant about all the hatred he felt towards the detective. Still a little annoyed by the fact that he had left his story so quickly, Edgar had taken it upon himself and continued his act.Apart from these few small details, the scene that took place before the eyes of the agency's doctor was authentic; somewhere, the writer really forgave his rival –the fact that he had not forgotten him was the main cause–, but that was without counting the resentment that was slowly eating away at him from the inside.The first part - but also the easiest - of his plan was completed when Ranpo asked him to come back to see him with another novel. As he left the dark establishment, Ranpo breathed a long sigh of relief, under the incomprehensible gaze of his friend.- Is everything okay ? she asked after several minutes of silence.- Yeah, I just didn't expected to see him again after six years and especially not in those conditions. But thanks to me and my ability, we have valuable information on the enemy's HQ, he declared in a tone that was more curt than he had hopeThis time Yosano avoided pointing out that he wasn’t a gifted, not wanting to dampen the mood even more than at the beginning of the walk.Walk during which Ranpo immersed himself in intense reflection on the following subject: what was that feeling of well-being he had felt when the writer had seemed to forgive him ?Relief over the fact that he had one less enemie ?Nah, Ranpo had many enemies and one less wouldn't change anything, and besides, it wasn't the first time this kind of thing had happened to him.The joy of having made a new "friend” ?Of course not, he already had some and one more wouldn't make a difference, and again, he had never felt this kind of feeling at those times.An idea then crossed his mind, but he quickly judged it as stupid as the other two and chased it from his mind as quickly as it had crept it.
- Ranpo, I know you don't like working but we're all overwhelmed and the boss is not going to be happy.
Kunikida's voice, both angry and pleading, pulled him out of his daydreaming, and indeed, since he had come back, the whole agency, even Osamu, was sweating body and soul, partly because of the Guild, while he was staring at the ceiling and nibbling on cookies.Reluctantly, Ranpo looked away from the beams of the partition to the pile of boring paper that was crumbling on his desk."With a bit of luck, this will clear my mind." he thought without really believing it himself.After that, he would have to plan the attack on the MobyDick with Dazai, and frankly, even doing that would be more interesting than the mission reports he was currently completing. There were no more pleasant investigations to solve these days, since for a while now they had all become too easy and boring for the detective. Fortunately, the novels that Edgar would now write for him might be able to get him out of his routinAfter barely ten minutes, Ranpo went back to staring at the ceiling, pretending to have a passing migraine and now thinking about why he couldn't find the answer to his previous question.The next morning, shortly after noon, while Atsushi had been infiltrating the enemy for a few hours now, and the whole agency was moping about the uncertain outcome of the fight while he already knew the end, Ranpo was walking through the streets of Yokohama, looking for the new daïfukus store. He wanted to buy some for Fukuzawa, who was relatively stressed by the events, just to relax him, and for him because apparently these pastries were delicious.He arrived without too much trouble at the store, and after having his shopping done, the detective decided to take a small walk in the tiny park next to the agency.
"Mmh... I'll have to remember to thank Osamu for lending me Kunikida's savings...”
The young man, under the incredulous gaze of the other children, sat on a small rocking duck, one of the pastries he had buy in his mouth, staring at the clouds that were passing in the sky.
"It's weird though, Edgar had a funny look when I talked to him, like he was afraid I'd bite him, and that way he stuttered, is it because he doesn't speak Japanese well? He really devoted six years of his life to such childish revenge? He was, what... twenty-two maybe, I think I was twenty at the time... Des that mean that for six years, he was torturing himself for something so stupid? People are dumb sometimes... Yeah, no. Not sometimes, often.”
He rocked back and forth on the children's game, which, if it hadn't been so light, would surely have broken a while ago.A little further away, a man was sitting and watching him, half-amused and half-frightened by this behavior that was too childish for his taste. He too had guessed the end of this story, and felt a little guilty and selfish for having contributed to the imminent loss of his own organization out of pure personal interest.He was hesitating between going to see Ranpo –which he only half-wanted to do at the sight of the noisy detective– or staying seated there, with Karl for only company –that was more than enough for him–.In the end, he didn't even have to make a choice because Ranpo called out to him :
- Hey, Poe! Come over here, would you ?
Being exposed like that in front of everyone in the park didn't please him too much, but to accomplish his revenge he had to get as close to Ranpo as possible. He stood up and walked towards him, still keeping a good meter between them.
- Good morning Ranpo. How are you since the last time ? he asked, trying to sound as friendly as possible.
- I’m good, whatever, would you like to push me on the swing ? Ranpo replied, almost ignoring his question.Forced to accept, Edgar found himself playing the role of a nanny in a park intended for under-ten year-olds, listening to Ranpo's countless and oh so unbearable praises of himself. The only reason that pushed him to have a minimum of empathy towards him was the scene he had witnessed in the small alley.For his part, Ranpo was in no way ashamed of the situation, having another "pusher" than Yosano or Fukuzawa was really fun. Moreover, despite his timidity, Edgar was firmer in his gestures than the other two, being younger than the boss –who had not lost his former reactivity, don’t get me wrong– and stronger in constitution thanks to his status as a man –even if the doctor did not lack brute force–, and therefore allowed the young man to rise higher in the air. His hands were bigger too.Edgar almost got hit in the head by the seat several times, because of the other's enthusiasm. He could sometimes see his face, which was painted with a real smile of joy, not one of those he reserved for the members of his agency.They stayed together for the rest of the afternoon, and as the sun began to set on the horizon, and they had gone around all the children's games to the great displeasure of the writer and his pet, the smallest received a call from his boss who announced Atsushi's victory, while Poe received a call from Twain, who informed him of their defeat.The two sighed, it didn't matter to them since they already knew.- Are you going back to America? Ranpo suddenly asked, not very envious of the idea of losing his new friend.- I don't think so, the MobyDick is destroyed, the helicopter to take us back has already left with Steinbeck and Twain, and I can't stand the boat... he hurried to invent.
- And the plane ?

- I'm afraid it might be too expensive.
- So you're staying in Japan ? Ranpo asked with a hint of happines.
- Yes, I guess...

"What a bummer... I would have preferred to go home... Instead I'll have to pretend to be the perfect friend of this little egocentric...”

- Oh, I'm thinking about it, we're celebrating our victory tomorrow at the agency, would you like to come ?
- Well, I'd like to, he lied, but will the others agree ?- You're not really part of the enemy, and whatever I do they'll agree so we don't have to care ! Ranpo replied proudly.
[...]
The party had started well, even if Edgar had arrived a little unexpectedly. But as Ranpo said, all the members of the agency accepted him, except Yosano, who had some suspicions at first.
"Is this really that overprotective woman I heard yelling at Ranpo last time ?”
Lucky he, the alcohol was a valuable help for her to forget and allowed the writer to be around the one she considered her big-little brother despite their disagreement. Relieved that she didn't interfere more in his plans, he still chose to be wary of her, just in case. Despite this hitch, he managed to forget his reprisals for the evening, and to enjoy it –if enjoying meant sitting in a corner and watching them have fun.Edgar felt very clever when it was time to sit down at the table: while everyone was eating in peace, he remained still, staring at his plate.
- Is something wrong, asked a young man with silver hair, who was the first to notice his confusion.- I-I... I don't know h-how to eat with chopsticks... he answered, his voice dropping to a whisper in his embarrassment.
While he was expecting to be laughed at and criticized, Edgar was given a lesson on "how to use chopsticks" orchestrated by Kunikida and Kyoka. Although the entire Agency was amused by the situation, Ranpo was the only one to openly make fun of him, which earned him a reprimand from his father figure.Edgar was somewhat annoyed, because this was the first interaction the detective had with him, having ignored him until now.
"But if that's all it is, I can handle it.”
He forced himself to eat a mouthful or two to make a good impression, and held back his urge to throw up when he swallowed the first one.By the end of the evening, most of them were drunk. Only Atsushi remained, who didn't have a strong taste for alcohol, Kyoka and Kenji who were too young, Ranpo who had been forbidden to touch it by the rest of the Agency due to a certain incident, and himself, who had only had a small drink, wanting to stay sober. The two youngest were already asleep, the remaining ones carried the drunkest to the agency's dormitories, only Edgar was getting ready to go home.- You don't wanna stay ? Ranpo asked, already half asleep. I'm sure we have some extra rooms available.- No thanks, I prefer to sleep at home... he quickly answered so he could leave as soon as possible.He slowly walked towards Ranpo to greet him with a handshake as he usually did in America, but, to his surprise, the other hugged him.
"Strange way to greet...”
He hesitated to return the hug but finally put his arms around his shoulders –their height difference prevented him from doing better anyway.
- Go home safely then.
Through the semi-darkness, he could see his rival's soft smile.- Good night, Ranpo, he told him as the other stood on tiptoe to ruffle his hair.Edgar left in the direction of his apartment, his raccoon in his arms. When the door of the agency’s basement closed behind him, he sighed in relief.
"Air, finally."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

« Leave my loneliness unbroken. »

- Edgar Allan Poe -

Ranpo was much more intrusive than expected.
Not only did he jump on the poor writer as soon as he saw him –literally and figuratively– but he also spent his days calling him on the phone, to the point that Edgar regretted giving him his number.
He had to change his ringtone to something more discreet, because crows calling to wake up to at about six in the morning and to hear all holy day was not the most pleasant thing ever.
Contrary to appearances, Ranpo was a very early riser, which had surprised Edgar.
Well, morning was a big word, he spent the few hours before the start of his work staring at the ceiling or doing various activities on his cell phone.
Edgar himself rose relatively early and went to bed quite late, often immersed in reading or writing a short story.
At first he was happy to receive a few calls and have some company, but this company –even sound – had quickly become unbearable and cumbersome.

- R-Ranpo... If you call me every hour like that, I will never be able to finish the volume you asked me to, he tried after two days of telephone harassment.- But Poe, I've never had anyone nearly as smart as me to talk to except that other idiot Dazai,
Ranpo lamented in a largely exaggerated melodramatic tone. Well, if you really want it... On the other hand, I want the new novel in less than a week !
After quickly nodding, he hung up.

"Finally peaceful..."

The only problem was that he had less than a week to finish a book he had barely started.
Putting up with the energetic detective was truly the most exhausting thing he had ever done.
Yet it wasn't a sigh of fatigue or anger that escaped his lips; it was a sigh of joy, of relief: everything was happening almost as he wanted, and luckily Ranpo had quickly latched onto him.
"How ironic." thought Edgar as he stroked Karl who had just taken up residence on his lap.
The tip of his quill rested on the blank page, but despite his best efforts to concentrate, his mind was elsewhere.
He sighed again.

"I feel like my thoughts are attached to him like a magnet, even though I do everything to avoid that... Well, as that dear Mr. Coulomb said so well, two opposite charges are bound to attract each other."

He stood up, and as his raccoon climbed on his shoulder, he put on his long black coat.
As Edgar left his small apartment, on his way to a place that would bring him peace and open-mindedness, he passed a large house with a sign that read "for sale."
The building –or rather the manor house given its size– was magnificent and sumptuous, all curves and arabesques, of a light marble –almost beige–, entirely to his taste, and despite what he had said to his rival about his rather limited means –which was obviously totally false– Edgar could not help but imagine himself writing in the immense residence.
The only thing it lacked was a location much further away from the noisy city, but you can't have everything.
Edgar eventually moved on, silently promising himself that he would buy the house as soon as he had the chance.
He walked for a long time through the streets, having learned to avoid the crowded ones over the days spent in Japan since the dissolution of the Guild, before arriving in front of a small wall of white stones like the foam of the calm waves that could be seen slightly below.
Edgar walked through the field of tombstones until he found an empty spot next to a tree that generously provided shade.
In the background one could see a large white building –a chapel perhaps ?– and even further away one could make out the port, the large bridge that connected the two banks, the five skyscrapers of the Port Mafia and finally the Ferris wheel.
"It must be an even more breathtaking view than I have right now when we're at the top." he
thought, sitting down on the soft grass.Finally able to give free rein to his imagination, which had been restricted by the tiny Japanese dwellings, Edgar closed his eyes.
- It's quiet isn't it?

Edgare jumped, that voice was vaguely familiar to him, but he didn't remember hearing it in America or in the Guild.
He soon realized that it was coming from the other side of the tree, where someone was leaning against the grave of one Oda S.
- Yes, it's the most beautiful view I have seen since I arrived here, he replied in English as well.

- Hum... Excuse me, but can we continue in Japanese? I'm not very comfortable with your language.

- Of course. I've seen you somewhere before, haven't I ? Are you one of Ranpo's colleagues ?

- Yes, I wanted to talk to you about him.

"It's like a parasite, even in such a beautifully peaceful place it comes to disturb me..."

- A problem ? Is he sick ?.. Edgar asked, pretending to be worried.

- No, on the contrary. I wanted to thank you, Ranpo only talks about you! Lately he had lost his smile, and we found him a little distant...

- Really? I'm glad to be useful, he
smiled in a tone he hoped was natural. .
- But otherwise tell me, what are you doing here ?

- I'm looking for some peace to write, what about you ?

- I'm dwelling on my past and my problems with my best friend... he replied with a hint of nostalgia.
A big blank followed, not an embarrassing one, rather one that allows to refocus on ourselves and reflect.
Edgar dipped his quill into the inkwell he had placed in the grass beside him and began to write, his quill moving in time with his thoughts, following their twists and turns, so that he had quickly finished half of it.Unfortunately, blank page syndrome –comparable to the plague among writers– caught up with him, and he had to put an end to his writing, which seemed to be at its peak.

- Another novel for Ranpo ?

- Yes, I promised it.

- Your ability is awfully practical, it's worthy of the Guild.

- Did he tell so much about me ?

- Oh yes, as if it was the first time he's made a friend haha ! We could have written an entire encyclopedia with everything he told us !

Edgar looked down at the still fresh lines, a hint of bitterness in his eyes.

"He plays his game well, too... Making everyone believe that he likes me when I know very well that he only sees me as an underling... Despite everything, it's nice to have someone who likes me so much..."

He unclenched his teeth, and while he had tried for a few seconds not to let see anything, his lips relaxed into a slight smile.

- One last thing.

- Yeah ?

- Don't do anything bad to Ranpo, we're happy to see him like this.

- Of course, what interest would I have in harming him, he said as innocently as possible.
- None, but I'm telling you so that you don't have the whole Agency on your back, he's its pillar, replied the "stranger" in a suddenly very cold tone.

- Thank you for letting me know, I will be careful...

Ranpo smiled, his fears about the American were unfounded.
He put his phone away after thanking Osamu.
In fact, he wanted to check that he was not one of those false friends who showers you with praise and flower petals to gain your friendship and then boast about it.
Ranpo didn't want to deduce the truth, he wanted concrete proof –even if he trusted his deductions completely–, something he would hear directly from Edgar.

"I'm getting paranoid, the fact that he doesn't want me to call him for some quiet time is just his introverted personality after all !"

Her suspicions had arisen a few hours earlier, when Yosano had come to apologize. Ranpo had simply answered absently that it was okay, as he always did.
She then had sat down next to him, and brought up the subject he absolutely did not want to talk about with her; Edgar.

- I find him false, you should be wary of it.

- You're not my only friend, you know? I can have others.

- That has nothing to do with it. Besides, I can't claim to be your only friend, all the members of the A.D.A. are too, she had decreed.

- They are not my friends, they are my colleagues.

- The Ranpo I know wouldn't have told me that, he changed you in the space of a few days.
- Don't involve him in all this ! He has nothing to do with it, he answered, more coldly.
- Oh really ? Then why did you suddenly change your way of thinking, it's a bit of a coincidence.

- You don't even consider me one of your own, just because you think I have no ability!

- But you don't have any ability, damn it
! she got carried away in turn. And for the love of whatever is above us, open your eyes ! He's toxic, he doesn't even hide it, he's reluctant to see you or talk to you, he only wants revenge!
- He's already accomplished his revenge, we're friends now ! Stop thinking you're my big sister, I don't need to take lessons from someone who sends people to get killed again and again !

She had touched the sensitive chord, and he added the straw that broke the camel's back.Yosano stared into space, turned her back on him, murmuring "don't come complaining afterwards" like the hero's best friend in romantic-tragic films.
At that moment Ranpo knew he had gone too far, that this time they were not going to reconcile anytime soon, yet he did nothing to catch her.For now he needed two things: to prove her wrong and to blame someone.
Those someone happened to be her and Edgar, because despite everything, the doctor's arguments made sense.
So he had called Osamu to ask for his help, he needed someone neutral that the writer had only seen a few times.Ranpo knew that at this time he would be at the entrance to the cemetery, and suspected that the lover of macabre mystery would also go there to find inspiration.
He had bet right, and had heard their entire conversation through Osamu's phone.Now he was reassured, and despite his explicit request to leave him alone, Ranpo had a mad desire to go see Edgar.
It was in some ways his way of thanking him for not being the hypocrite her "best friend" described.Ranpo didn't even need to get lost to stumble upon Edgar's apartment by the greatest of chances, because he showed up at the same time as Osamu at the offices of the armed detectives.
Osamu had guessed that Ranpo would see his friend, so he had pretended that his leg hurt and he couldn't walk so that Edgar would carry him to the agency.Even though he felt uncomfortable, with all those looks fixed on his skin, Edgar discreetly greeted the members before Ranpo pulled him a little further away from the rest of the group, so that they could chat quietly, without the curious people who could disturb them.

- Thanks.

- For what ?

- For nothing, I just wanted to tell you.

- Oh, you're welcome then, he said with a half-smile.
Ranpo returned his smile, then quickly pestered him with questions about his upcoming novel.
Edgar refused, knowing that with the slightest clue the whole subterfuge contained in his lines could be discovered before he had even finished them.
His rival's intelligence was such that it almost terrified him.
He reached into his bag, grabbing something.
- I noticed you didn't have any in Japan, so I thought you might like it... he said, handing him a small bag of M&M's.
He had had some delivered from America a few days earlier after visiting various confectioners, having discovered Ranpo's fondness for sugar.
Coaxing him with treats like a wild animal was a strange technique, but it seemed to work, even if it wasn't so necessary anymore since Ranpo already trusted him, but reinforcing this trust couldn't do any harm.
Edgar smiled as he saw Ranpo's eyes widen and sparkle with joy as he opened the bag to taste one.

- Wow, it tastes amazing !
- Glad you like it, I wasn't sure, Edgar explained, scratching the back of his neck.
Ranpo's eyelids closed –much to the chagrin of Edgar, who found his pupils more than magnificent, bewitching– and he smiled again.
- Well, you bet right ! A little more and I told you that your talent for deduction is equal to mine ! Unfortunately for you, it will probably never happen haha ! Ranpo exclaimed, patting his shoulder.Ranpo Edogawa worked like this, he had two ways of thanking: to mock, or to thank for real, but unlike most people he used the first more commonly, while he reserved the second for the most sincere thanks.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

« A single ray of sunshine is enough to dispel millions of shadows. »

- François d'Assise -

- Poe, this is the fifth time you've been eyeing this place instead of listening to me, when are you going to decide to buy it?

- Hmm? Oh, uh... I'm not sure I can afford it...

- Stop lying to me, it's useless. But hey, I can negotiate the price, I'm good at that too, Ranpo
said.
- I don't doubt it for a second my dear.
- Huh ? Speak Japanese I don't understand your language, it annoys me .
- "My dear" is an affectionate nickname in America, sorry it came out by itself... Edgar apologized.

His attention was once again drawn to the house, and Ranpo puffed out his cheeks, crossing his arms over his chest to show his displeasure.As much as he had a hard time admitting it, the fact that Edgar's interest was directed towards something else than him irritated him to a point he wouldn't have even thought possible.
Karl jumped from his owner’s shoulders to the beret below him.Although Edgar still had a hard time leaving his precious pet in someone else's hands, he trusted Karl’s judgment and figured Ranpo, despite his clumsiness, wouldn't hurt him.
It was a pretty cute picture from his point of view, and Edgar couldn't help but chuckle and smile. Ranpo's pout grew, and he gave his friend a small slap on the top of his head, scolding him for making fun of him.In order to match Edgar's size, Ranpo had to stand on tiptoe, which only made Edgar's shy smile stretch a little wider.

- Tss... you're lucky to be cute when you smile, otherwise I would already have left you there and took Karl over !

The tone of his sentence was kind, it was just a simple joke.
Yet the writer almost tore his pet from Ranpo's arms, almost yelling at him not to touch it.His eyes widened in surprise, revealing his beautiful pupils, dulled by fear.
- Ranpo, wait I- Edgar began, sorry for his too brutal reaction.An angel passed by.

- Haha you got me ! I really thought you got mad !

Soon that veil had disappeared, replaced by the bright smile that Ranpo displayed most of the time.How could Ranpo ignore it so easily ? Edgar was shocked by this sudden change, he didn't make a remark.
"- Mood swings or uncontrolled changes, close to bipolarity."

It was one of the harmful effects of anorexia –and unfortunately not the only one–, Edgar was aware of it, the doctor had written it down in black and white.Noticing his disorder, Ranpo decided to cheer him up and handed him some candy, which he kept in his pocket in case of unexpected hunger.
- No, thanks, that's nice, but I'm intolerant to sugar... the writer apologized, awkwardly pushing his hand away.
- I made a monumental effort to offer them to you, so you have no right to refuse ! Plus I know you're lying to me again...

With that Ranpo grabbed Edgar's wrist and forced him to take them, which surprised him because he thought he was too attached to these sweets to share them.He nodded and slipped them into his pocket, waiting to throw them away later.

- You should eat them right away, firstly because they will melt and because eating them really wouldn't hurt you, you're so skinny !

A blank settled, Edgar was hurt by Ranpo’s words, even if he knew that Ranpo was a person who spoke openly, saying what he thought or simply making a remark without bad intentions or judgments.
- I-I have to go, goodbye Ranpo..!As he walked quickly towards his apartment, the words of his late family came back to him, cornering him from all sides.
"- Useless, besides being ugly ! "
"- Impossible to marry, who would want that ?"

"- He won't even be able to procreate, he's so weak, or in the best case his offspring will die at birth, due to lack of strength !"
"- He's not even a man, he has neither muscles nor charisma, he's just a little girl, I wouldn't be surprised if he was a faggot !"

"- Why did he have to be our only male descendant ?! Even our daughters would be more capable of continuing the line than him !"
"- You're the eldest, take responsibility for goodness sake !"

"- Edgar, it's high time you got married, you're almost twenty !"

His family had always been very wealthy, partly due to their abilities, but he was the first to possess literary ability, which made him the Poe's outcast.He had never really liked them, and one day, without any kind of warning, they all died one after the other, victims of a tuberculosis pandemic, while he had remained locked in the manor's library.
Rare survivor of this massacre, he lived alone from then on, his mother having rebuilt her life with her share of the inheritance.This woman –her name was Elizabeth Arnold Poe– had never really took her role as a mother, letting the “dirty work” of raising her son to the maids, while she sent her second son and her daughter to their uncle’s house at their births: Edgar never got to know them, their deaths therefore did not affect him more than that.
Unfortunately, even if he did not consider Elizabeth as a mother, she kept a share of authority over him.
Another part of the inheritance was intended for her grandchildren, and since she had none left, this part was likely to end up either in the bank or in her son's pocket.Having already reached menopause, Elizabeth –who was still very intelligent– placed her hopes on Edgar's frail shoulders, who was the only one who could provide her with grandchildren; she would only have to help herself until they had reached the age of majority.
She had tried to force him into marriage, but he had fled to Japan. When he returned, and during the seasons that separated him from his next journey, she introduced him to many women.He refused them all, being neither ready for it, nor tempted by any of them, although he was not very demanding in this matter. He wasn't fooled, he could see the disgust in their eyes, the same disgust he had seen in his rival's eyes during their first confrontation.Edgar would much rather focus on his revenge than deal with a woman he neither knew nor loved in any way.
Sometimes, after explaining his thoughts to his mother, he would run away, hide –often in the library of the mansion he had bought– and wait for her to calm down, or simply wait for his anxiety attack to pass.It was in those moments that he would have needed someone cute and affectionate like Ranpo –despite everything Edgar did not want to admit that he appreciated the presence of his rival– to comfort him, to tell him that he was not as useless and bad as she said.
Edgar had managed to forget, or rather to put aside in his head all these events but the remark of the little detective that he had left standing had made everything resurface.When he arrived in front of the door of the building his whole body felt heavy.
Edgar wanted to open it but the world around him blurred, and he spun around in search of a foothold.People were walking strangely; they were getting closer, moving further away, and getting closer again, to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
And suddenly the landscape turned, very quickly, so quickly that he only realized it when his eyes closed in anticipation of a shock that did not come, or that was slightly less brutal than expected, surely thanks to the rush of adrenaline.His name was shouted several times without him paying attention, totally absorbed by the contemplation of the ground next to him.
Edgar felt like he was floating, cuddled by soft, warm, invisible arms, as if under the influence of a drug.Moreover, the warm against his temple urged him to sleep, and –obedient as he was– that's what he did, or rather he fainted, without caring about the people who were gradually gathering around him.

[...]
His blood had only made one turn in his veins when Ranpo had seen his friend collapse, even if he had expected that it would happen. As soon as Edgar had been far enough, he had hurried to follow him, and had arrived just in time to see him fall from the height of his six feet two.
He ran towards him calling out to him but got no response. Ranpo
pushed aside the passers-by, almost shouting at them "Go away, there's nothing to see !" and carried him on his back as best he could to his house, where he hurried to check if he was bleeding or injured.
Why had he taken him home instead of to the Agency - which was closer and where there was an infirmary and someone probably more capable than him to take care of an injured person?Ranpo didn't know himself, probably because he didn't want to have to explain himself or see this person again, even less impose on his poor Edgar the treatment he would have the right to with her.
It was the first time he was worried so much about someone other than Fukuzawa, and it felt weird to react like that. When he saw Edgar straighten up after slowly opening his eyes, Ranpo had a hard time stopping himself from jumping on his neck and shouting how happy he was that he was okay, which he knew was a completely irrational reaction given the minimal magnitude of the situation... Edgar, who was swimming in total incomprehension, didn't take long to notice Ranpo.- W-we're at your place ? he asked in a hoarse voice.
Ranpo nodded.
- I thought you lived at the armed detectives' offices.

The strands of his fringe parted revealed one of his eyes, under which one could see large dark circles dug by the frequent lack of sleep.
- Edgar, do you sleep enough..?

The person concerned didn't answer, the answer was obvious anyway.Something bothered him though: Ranpo had used his first name instead of his last name as he usually did. He deduced some interest in the question, and he just lowered his head, embarrassed that Ranpo was worrying about him. Ranpo smiled at his reaction and left, returning a few minutes later with a glass of fresh water.
- Thanks, but there's no need to do that much...

- Maybe, but know that I have no idea how to take care of a sick person, Ranpo decreed, half-joking.
"How can such an intelligent person be so devoid of common sense? Or maybe he's lost without his ability ?"

- And, uh, he cleared his throat before continuing; sorry for my remark earlier, it was out of place...Edgar was flabbergasted; he recognized his mistake and he apologized ? Between that and Ranpo sharing his sweets with him, this day had been full of surprises!- My... my behavior was too, excuse me, he answered softly.
A small smile appeared on their respective lips.
"I definitely did well to come back here, even if all this is fictional, just a comedy, it feels good to feel appreciated..."

Later that night, Ranpo had to fight with his guest to finally deign to eat the only edible and non-sweet thing he had at home: instant noodles.It must have been about a week since Edgar had swallowed anything other than water or hot drinks.
Even though he knew that this snack would do him a world of good, Edgar couldn't help but feel nauseous at the thought of swallowing solid food, and he had to force himself to please Ranpo.At the end of the "meal", Ranpo had simply let himself fall into his bed fully clothed, telling the writer to sleep wherever he wanted, emphasizing the word "sleep".
Edgar quickly cleaned the small sofa and settled down comfortably with a pled and a cushion.He didn't have too much trouble falling asleep, lulled by the smell that the apartment gave off –surely Ranpo's scent, but he was too tired to think about it– and the relaxing atmosphere that reigned there.
When Edgar woke up early the next morning, the first thought that crossed his mind was to go back to sleep, but the absence of a certain animal was stronger than his laziness. Confused at first, he remembered that Karl had been on his shoulders when he had fainted.
Edgar knew his pet was fearful but intelligent, which meant he had simply jumped from his perch before impact and was –hopefully– curled up on his landing.
He quickly scribbled a note to let Ranpo know he was leaving and hurriedly set off for home.Luckily Karl was there, and one of his friendly neighbors had kindly taken the initiative to put out a bowl of cat food for him.
- Oh Karl, if you knew how sorry I am, exclaimed Edgar when the raccoon jumped into his arms.The little animal recognized his owner more when he spoke in his native language, so as soon as they were alone together Edgar began to speak English to him.
For his part, Ranpo, who had woken up shortly after he left, was just standing there staring sadly at the note he had left him.He knew that Edgar had gone home to take care of his pet, but he would have also liked to spend a little more time with him, at least to make sure he was eating and sleeping properly...

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

« If I told you about the darkness inside of me, would you still look at me like I'm the Sun ? »

- Harman Kaur -

Why did Ranpo love being transported into his writer friend's novel so much ?
Firstly, because it took him out of the boredom of his usual routine and made his gray matter work, he sang it to whoever wanted to hear it – or not, he didn't care.
The second reason was more personal, since it was simply that these fictional stories allowed him to escape from reality. Like a drug in some ways.
Sometimes, before solving the mystery, he would visit the place, talk to people and have fun leading them on, those who knew nothing about him, those who could only marvel at his talents, his "ability".
So when Edgar knocked on his door with his new book, Ranpo rushed to open it.
He really needed to leave, to forget his problems and as soon as possible. Lately, the members of the armed detective agency –some of whom he considered his family–
were not as nice as before with him :It was selfish, of course, but the fact that no one offered him sweets anymore, that his boss no longer offered him praise in exchange for work, or that no one praised him anymore hurted him.
He knew it had something to do with his fight with Yosano and his relationship with Edgar, but their lack of attention was pushing him to spend even more time with him, and so on until a vicious circle was created.
That morning, however, everything had become clear, Fukuzawa had told him explicitly : He couldn't stand it anymore, Ranpo had gone way over the edge.
When he had arrived at the Agency, it was not the familiar benevolent smiles and admiring glances that greeted him, but the tense faces of his "friends" where anger and disgust were mixed.
Even Kenji and Kyoka –usually so friendly– seemed to resent him.
Ranpo had then stepped forward cautiously —he felt even smaller than usual— knowing full well that this was the consequence of his actions —his behavior, his supposedly haughty remarks— that brought about his imminent sentence.
Arriving in front of Fukuzawa, his mouth had gone dry : the only thing he feared more than finding himself alone was that his adoptive father would disown him, which amounted to almost the same thing in the end.
Ranpo had felt the weight of the accusing gazes hanging on his shoulders, and all he wanted now was to disappear, erasing all his mistakes.
His boss had started talking, and Ranpo had to do everything he could to just stand there, still, listening to him. The most difficult thing to do was to silence the loud echos of his own heartbeats in his ears.According to Fukuzawa, all Ranpo did was to cause chaos in his affairs and sow discord within the Agency, in addition to spending most of his time eating without the slightest politeness and using his intellectual superiority over his colleagues to make them do his chores for him, as if work was just a game to him.
And to top it all off, Fukuzawa found him simply insufferable, arrogant and narcissistic.
One by one, all the members of the A.D.A. without exception had complained, and the biggest reproach that was made to him was that through his fault, Yosano was once again tormented by his past.
"Well she's not the only one !" He wanted to scream it out of his lungs. "I don't even remember my parents' faces, the last time they told me they loved me before they died !"
But in order not to make things worse, he had kept quiet, as always when uncomfortable, and had put on a neutral face.
Ranpo had been so hurt and frustrated that it had prevented him from thinking properly, and he had been at a loss to respond to his colleagues' accusations.
- So I guess I'm fired ? He asked, making a monumental effort to keep his voice from shaking.
- No, I can't do that, at least not permanently. I'm just temporarily removing your status, you'll be forced to toil like the new employees, Fukuzawa had answered in a cold voice.

"Of course you're not firing me, my abilities are too valuable. People are really only interested in that..."

It wasn't the first time someone had made this kind of remark to him, but it was becoming more and more frequent and he couldn't hold it in any longer, he wanted to throw everything away.
Ranpo had left without saying a word, had started running once he had left the Agency and had sprained his ankle in its corridors, then had locked himself in his small apartment which was located just above and had taken refuge in a corner of his room, his arms folded around his legs that he would be against his chest, his head buried in his knees.
And there, only there, he let himself go, here are we.
He cried, he talked about his fears and anxieties to a stuffed animal or to the wall, when he thought the stuffed animal was looking at him askance.
The throbbing pain that bit into his leg was nothing compared to the anarchy that reigned supreme in his head and the knots in his gut that only tightened with every breath he took.
Ranpo knew this, he resented the others for not understanding him, but how could they ?
He never talked about his feelings, he never went to cry in someone's arms, he never complained about his feelings of rejection, his problem with emotional dependency –or when he did, his tone was so light that others took it at face value.
Yes, it was selfish of him to hold it against them, but he couldn't help it.
For a moment Ranpo thought that Edgar would be the ideal person to talk to, but he quickly dismissed the thought : he could see that the writer was already struggling to cope with his personality, so talking to him about what was on his mind would only make things worse.
The writer in question, who was planning to bring him his new novel and thought he was at the Agency, just came across a gloomy atmosphere, everyone was looking at their feet with an air of regret mixed with something indescribable.When he entered, Edgar was given dark looks, which wasn't exactly common in this place.He didn't bother to understand and immediately asked where Ranpo was, to which he was answered with a curt "Not here, figure it out yourself."
Without bothering to greet them —why would he be polite after the pitiful reception he had received ?— Edgar headed toward the candy store, then passed by the pastry shop, not forgetting the park, but nothing.
He finally called Ranpo to find out where he was.
When the detective felt the vibrations against his thigh, he ignored them
He did the same the next two times.
It was only after the fourth that he decided to look at who was calling him.
Sa surprise fut courte mais lui réchauffa tout de même le cœur.- Ah, Poe, it's nice to get one of your calls, Ranpo said in a voice he hoped was as close to his usual tone as possible. Any reason ?

- I was planning to bring you my new novel, but apparently you weren't in your favorite places, so I called you to find out where you were.

- Well, I'm at home ! Well, the Agency's home. Hurry up and come, I can't wait to read your book !

With that he hung up and wiped his eyes, so that his friend wouldn't ask him too many questions, although that would have pleased him.
It wasn't so much the mystery that interested him, but rather its author; the mere presence of Edgar and his striped animal greatly boosted his morale.When Edgar arrived at the detective's house, the first thing he noticed was the way he was behaving : he seemed –no, he was– tense, the underside of his eyes was very slightly red, but enough for him to notice, and he was getting confused in what he was doing. For example, when he offered her tea, he handed him a cup of coffee.
He was limping too, and Edgar suspected that it could only be a mistake of inattention.
Yet, as he knew him, Ranpo never made such clumsiness – despite being clumsy as can be – and next to his usual intelligence these little actions stood out enormously.
- Are you feeling okay Ranpo ? He finally asked him, placing his hand on his shoulder.
Ranpo jumped, pushing his hand away with a sharp gesture, like a reflex. Surprise immobilized Edgar in his gesture a handful of seconds

"A trauma ? Was he beaten when he was younger ?.."

Ranpo lowered his head, slightly ashamed of his reaction.

- It's nothing, just a passing headache...

Edgar stared at him, as if to read through his words –the detective was always amazed at his ability to do it so well.After what seemed like an eternity, he looked away and simply sat down on a chair and patted his thigh, as if to beckon him to come and sit down.
Ranpo therefore came and sat down obediently, his back to him; he had total confidence –and even a little too much blindness in the eyes of some – in Edgar.
The latter placed his hands on his back and began to exert light pressure while making circular movements around his shoulder blades.
His hands then moved up to his trapezius muscles, where they closed to let their phalanges massage, then gradually moved down his spine, always performing the same gestures that relaxed the dark-haired man's back muscles.
Finally, he moved his skillful fingers up from his hips to his ribs, to loosen the top of his pectoral muscles, being careful not to go below his collarbones.Ranpo expected something like that, but not for it to calm him down this much.Les massages étaient quelque-chose de si basique, si usuelle qu'il avait presque oublié leur existence, et contrairement à ce qu'il aurait pût penser, sentir les grandes mains de l'américain sur son dos n'était ni désagréable ni embarrassant, juste apaisant.They stayed like that for several minutes, until the Japanese man got up and changed position, so that he was sitting facing his friend, the head of one resting on the other's shoulder, arms dangling.
Edgar was surprised, the tiny distance that separated them was not helping matters, and he stuttered a few words, before Ranpo buried his head even more in his neck, implicitly asking him not to say anything.
So he simply placed his hands on her head and back, gently stroking his straight hair.
Again they stood there, without moving, without making any noise, just breathing interrupted by tiny sobs, closer to hiccups than tears.
When Ranpo was calm, he straightened up and briefly thanked Edgar, embarrassed to have shown himself so vulnerable in front of someone.
- If you need to talk or just a hug, I'm here, you know that, don't you, Edgar reminded him, also slightly embarrassed to show so much affection.
Ranpo didn't answer and just nodded silently. Edgar then took out a book with a midnight blue cashmere cover, the title and author embroidered with gold thread. No matter what type of work, he liked to do it in lace, especially when it came to handicrafts.
- Don't you want to sleep before we start ? You look like you really need it.

- Of course not ! A genius detective doesn't need rest !

Edgar smiled for a moment then raised his hand to the younger's face, and stroked his closed eye with the tip of his finger.
- Before, I would have a whim to submit to you... Ranpo said in a tone that Edgar did not know. Could you speak to me in English? I like your accent, your language is pleasant to listen to.

- Everything you want honey, and, by the way, don't worry, I'll always be here for you.
Ranpo just listened, focusing on his words so as not to think about the events of the day.
He didn't understand a word but guessed well over half of it, so he listened to Edgar ranting to himself –without, to his great surprise, his usual stuttering– for a good half hour, before Edgar stopped, cause of a lack of ideas.
- Even the best detective needs sleep, my dear Ranpo, said Edgar to conclude his tirade, stroking Ranpo's almost invisible dark circles.

- Not until I solve your mystery, I really can't wait any longer !

Ranpo had finally regained his joviality and slightly superior tone.
As he was impatiently stamping his feet, Edgar decided to end his suffering –sometimes he would have liked to be able to use his power on himself, alas– and transported him to one of these worlds, entirely created by his pen and his imagination, all thanks to his ability.
As Ranpo disappeared into a bright golden light, he just had time to hear her whisper a shy "good luck."
- Don't worry about me, try not to get too bored while I'm gone, Ranpo had replied before disappearing completely.
The book fell gently to the ground, the illuminated pages already beginning to scroll on their own, driven by the strange power of the writer.