“My father’s composition is still unpublished, so I don’t want anyone to hear it.”
Hmm… At first glance, this reasoning seems sound, but something feels off.
“Misawa-san, I can’t read your true intentions. Honestly, I don’t want to take on an ambiguous request.”
“Shiba-san…?!”
Shiba-san is trying to refuse this request. Considering the difficulty of the monsters appearing in the stream, it’s fair to decline.
It’s not my life on the line here. I can’t force my affiliated streamer to risk their life for something they’re unwilling to do.
“I see… that’s unfortunate.”
Did they give up surprisingly easily? Something’s not right. If I were in Misawa-san’s position, I’d go to any lengths to get my parent’s final work.
When a parent passes away, you can no longer create new memories. You have to cling to the few memories left in this world to keep going.
“Then, let’s change the request. All I need is for you to open that treasure chest at the specified time and let me hear the song during the stream. That’s all.”
“What…?”
I let out a startled voice without meaning to. What is this unsettling feeling? If that’s all they needed, why did they initially request the chest to be brought back?
“Of course, the payment remains 10 million yen. I’d also like to withdraw the request from the bounty site and officially make it an exclusive request to Shadow Stars.”
Suspicious. That’s not something you’d easily compromise on. Yet they’re backing down so quickly…
Am I being manipulated? Was the initial request to bring back the chest a decoy? Was opening it all they truly needed?
This feels like a psychological technique—start with a request designed to be refused, then lower the bar with the real request, making it easier to agree to.
Uh… what was it called again? “Door-in-the-face,” I think? There’s a psychological term like that.
No, if that were the case, they would’ve made the simpler request from the start. So, there must’ve been a compelling reason for wanting the chest brought back initially.
Does that mean Misawa-san’s current request is a compromise?
Shiba-san gives me a knowing look. I have a vague understanding of what he’s trying to convey.
“You’re right. It’s hard to decide right away. I’d like to take this back and discuss it with our affiliated streamers first. After all, we’re asking them to risk their lives; we can’t answer on the spot.”
“I understand. I’ll wait for your response.”
The video call with Misawa-san ends. Afterward, Shiba-san speaks to me.
“Eito-san, let’s rewatch the stream where we opened that chest. There’s something I want to confirm.”
“Confirm? Sure, no problem.”
Following Shiba-san’s suggestion, I open the stream archive on my computer.
“Skip to the part where the chest is opened.”
“Got it.”
I move the seek bar to the point where the treasure chest is opened, and the music begins to play.
Shiba-san closes his eyes, carefully listening to the music. What could be so significant about this music?
“…As I thought. Something’s off. There’s no way this is music composed by a professional.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
I don’t get it at all. I don’t know much about music, but does Shiba-san sense something I can’t?
“There are several slight discrepancies in the notes. Very subtle ones.”
“I can’t tell at all. Do you have an exceptionally good ear, Shiba-san?”
Daigo-san has a unique ability with his eyes, and Ikezawa-san has a special throat. Does Shiba-san have something special about his ears?
“Well, I used to dabble in music… but that’s beside the point. This isn’t an equipment malfunction; the discrepancies are intentional.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Look here. When I looked inside the treasure chest, I saw the music box. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be any defects.”
Indeed, there’s a scene of Shiba-san peeking into the chest.
“To be honest, if it were just a mechanical issue, I’d think repairing it would restore its value as a sellable item with beautiful music.”
But Shiba-san didn’t take the chest. That’s because the problem wasn’t with the music box but the composition itself.
“Frankly, this music isn’t worth 10 million yen. Even 1,000 yen would be too much.”
“That bad?”
“If this shoddy piece were released to the public, it’d be an insult to the composer’s memory.”
Shiba-san’s criticism is surprisingly harsh. That’s why he’s been suspicious of Misawa-san all along.
“But what catches my attention is the periodicity of the discrepancies. There seems to be a pattern.”
“A pattern?”
“Yes. It alternates between long and short sounds… the discrepancies only occur in two variations.”
Long and short sounds… there’s one thing that comes to mind.
“Could it be Morse code?”
“Morse code… That’s possible.”
“Misawa-san realized this music is encoded with Morse code. That’s why they wanted the chest retrieved—to decipher the code.”
Or perhaps they wanted to prevent others from deciphering it? Taking it back would serve that purpose… but then asking us to stream the music contradicts that.
“…? Wait, could it be both?”
“Both?”
Shiba-san looks puzzled by my comment.
“I mean, Misawa-san wanted to decode the music’s message. But at the same time, they didn’t want certain people to decode it… Perhaps the code reveals the location of some treasure.”
“In that case, monopolizing the chest to crack the code first makes sense.”
“And the people they’re trying to avoid aren’t just random. They’re specific individuals. By specifying the streaming time, they ensure those individuals can’t watch the stream. That way, they can decipher it first… How’s my deduction?”
“…It’s mostly sound. I agree.”
Phew. Glad I didn’t embarrass myself in front of Shiba-san.
“Honestly, I don’t want to take on this request. It feels like we’d be getting involved in something dangerous.”
“Dangerous…?”
“If this code is worth 10 million yen, the returns must far exceed that amount.”
“True… Paying 10 million to crack a code first doesn’t bode well.”
This feels shady, like some underground job. I don’t want to get involved either.
“So, what should we do? Refuse?”
“Yes. If we can’t trust the client, it’s better to decline. Probing too deeply into their circumstances isn’t wise either.”
That’s true. Clients may have their reasons, but if those reasons seem shady, it’s best to steer clear.
Honestly, I’m curious about the encrypted music and Misawa-san’s motives. But we don’t owe them anything.
“Let’s take some time to appear considerate, then turn them down politely.”
“Yes, I think that’s the best approach.”
The client might prefer a quick refusal, but it’s better to pretend we’re deliberating. That little act of consideration is necessary.
