"The Tragedy of W Prefectural Police" and the Cheesecake for the Buddhist Altar

"The Tragedy of W Prefectural Police" by Aki Hamana / Audible

A book that keeps sweeping the legs out from under you while you walk.

On my way back from Pilates, my body is usually relaxed. My shoulders are down, and my stride is long. Even walking down the hill feels light. That was the state I was in when I started listening to this.

There is a female inspector. She is the first woman in the prefectural police to be promoted to superintendent, and she intends to change the organization from the top down. The police inspector she had given a top-secret mission to is found dead. Can it be covered up? Can it be made to look like an accident? That is as far as the introduction goes. I will stop the synopsis here.

The problem was that this book "sweeps your legs out from under you" with every chapter.

I am listening to the story smoothly. The characters are coming into view. Their positions are clear. A map is forming in my head of who is carrying what. The moment I start walking, trusting that map, the ground shifts at the end of the chapter. I realize that the place I was standing just a moment ago was not where I thought it was.

Once would be fine. But it happens two or three times. Since I was listening while walking, I stopped in the middle of the road. So that was what that was about earlier. I said "Huh?" without making a sound. I probably had a strange look on my face.

I won't write about the contents of the trick. It is the kind of book whose value would drop to zero the moment I wrote it down. However, I can say this much: when I thought, "I've been tricked," I didn't feel angry. Rather, there was a pleasure in being carried along by something so well-constructed. It is close to that feeling when you watch a magic trick up close and can't see how it's done.

I kept listening, intending to stop by 7-Eleven. But then "51% more" caught my eye, and my feet headed toward Lawson. On the way back from having my legs swept by a book, I was having them swept by a "more" promotion as well.

A large chocolate cream puff. A fluffy, rich cheesecake. My body, tired from Pilates, craves things like this. And it is 51% more. There is no reason to refuse.

Tomorrow is Father's Day. If I offer them at the Buddhist altar, it will be an act of filial piety. A brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.

However, cream is perishable. Offering them for an hour should fulfill my duty. When I take them down, I will say this with a solemn face.

"I am taking these down now... I will take responsibility and eat this cream puff and cheesecake on Father's behalf."

I will take responsibility and eat both. Every last bit of the 51% extra. My father is probably thinking, "You're the one eating it?" from the other side, but I will pretend I don't hear him.

The rest of the book is still playing in my ears. Before I make the offering, I'll listen for one more hill's worth. The cheesecake and cream puff can wait until then.