Part One

The Price of Life.

“Hey, what about the value of a family member’s life?”

At Saki’s question, Mukai paused for a moment before answering.

“Hmm… for example, there’s a minister who died two years ago.
He’s in a special chamber now, but he offered five years of his wife’s remaining life to the underworld.”

“What happens to his wife?”

“It means her lifespan is shortened by five years.
But even so, five years of her life is only worth two years in the underworld.
So, if the minister wants to stay in the special chamber,
he has to offer another life this year.
Well… he could offer more of his wife’s life if he wants.”

“Yikes… even in death, he only cares about himself.”

Makino shuddered.

“That’s not all,” Tadokoro added in a lowered voice.
“There’s someone who offered up their grandchild’s life.”

“……”

Saki and Makino swallowed hard.

“Well, it was before the child was even born.
The man made a contract to sacrifice the unborn baby in his son’s wife’s womb—
and she miscarried.”

“That’s why some people say this country itself
is built on the underworld.
Monsters and spirits… they’re not the only ones bringing harm.”

With that, Mukai popped a piece of grilled chicken into his mouth.

“Ugh, that’s awful.”

Makino tilted his head back toward the ceiling and shook it.

This country held many other secrets.
Mukai only learned of them after he died
and was assigned to the Special Chamber.

Only a select few were allowed access—
even within the Underworld Investigation Bureau,
only the Dispatch Division could enter.

Even after death,
strict confidentiality was enforced to prevent information leaks.

Still, many—like Tadokoro—knew bits and pieces
of what went on behind the scenes.
After all, you can’t put a lid on a dead man’s mouth.

“By the way,” Tadokoro continued,
“Kishimoto from the Western Branch said recently
that most of the ‘special cases’ are people with no family ties.”

“Now that you mention it… I broke up with my boyfriend,
and I’ve got no parents or siblings.
Mukai, you too, right? What about you, Makino?”

“I grew up in an orphanage.
Kishimoto lived with his grandma, but she died,
and he said he died in an accident soon after that.
What about you, Tadokoro?”

“Me? My parents passed away a while back,
but I’ve got an ex-wife and a son.
Though after the divorce, she remarried,
so I haven’t seen the kid at all.”

“Don’t you want to see him?”

“I’d be lying if I said no…
but it sounds like he’s doing well with his new dad.
I don’t want to stir things up.
Besides, I’m already dead.
Even old Gen-san has grandkids and great-grandkids.”

“I see. But still—Makiko’s single too,
and she said she’s got no family either.
Guess that proves it—these ‘special cases’ are a bunch of loners.”

Makino sounded half convinced, half uneasy.

While sipping his drink, Mukai recalled the words of the King of the Underworld.

“Too few special cases?”

Mukai had once asked if it was possible to increase their number.

“The special cases aren’t chosen just by lifespan,”
the King replied.
“Those branded as unrecoverable—
and those whose spirits still cling strongly to their children or the living world—are excluded.

Especially those with deep attachments to loved ones or possessions.
Such people often cause trouble while still in the human world.
And when someone they cared about dies and comes here,
it would cause them pain and confusion.

So, when the spirits of those connected to special cases arrive,
we make sure they’re reborn as quickly as possible.

As you can see in the Special Chamber,
a certain level of emotional endurance is required.
The twelve who remain now—
they are the chosen specialists. Be proud.”

But how could one truly be happy about that?
The fewer attachments you had in life,
the higher your chances of becoming a “special case.”

Mukai couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone that.
He kept it to himself.