((Private))
Two years and Masaki had still been unable to find the murderer. He covered it up well enough, smuggling the body out by himself in the middle of the night and burying it far from his estate. No one had seen seen or heard him committing that act. Then began the investigation. He couldn't rely on anyone in the Ministry of Justice, but he did have full access to their files and resources. He scrounged up as much information about every single person who had been working at the Ito estate during the time of the murder. None of them seemed like possible murderers. It was a dead end. He'd dismissed those who seemed most suspect, but nothing could be proved. The true culprit went undiscovered.
Masaki slumped down into his armchair. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Why could he not find the murderer? He felt cursed by this whole affair. Somehow he knew it had something to do with his father. The man had attempted to murder the entire Privy Council. That was bound to draw violent individuals towards his family, either to target or intimidate him. He wished he had seen the signs before and stopped his father before madness could set in. He still worried that such a thing was hereditary. His nightmares seemed to be only getting worse, scenes of such a graphic and violent nature. Another problem he was unable to deal with.
Takeo, Masuki's longtime manservant, entered the room and placed a cup of tea down on the nearby end-table. With an emotionless face, he said, "Your tea, sir."
"Thank you," Masuki said as he picked up the cup. He took a sip and nearly spat it out. It's was incredibly bitter, much more than usual. After he stopped himself from choking on the tiny droplets that wound their way down his throat, he looked up at Takeo and asked, "Is this a new brew?"
"Indeed, sir. I believe this batch will help you sleep better."
Masaki nodded his thanks and Takeo responded with a deep bow. The servant backed out of the room, leaving Masaki alone. The count took another sip and immediately spat it back into the cup. He had been drinking these teas of Takeo's for years to help him sleep, yet he had seen no signs of improvement. This one was even nastier than the ones that came before. Not in the mood to down some putrid tea, Masaki made sure Takeo was not watching through the doorway and poured the tea into the nearest houseplant. After that, he went upstairs to his bedchambers for a good night's rest.
* * * * *
The sound of screams woke Masaki from his slumber. For once in the past few years, he had been sleeping peacefully, but someone had gone and ruined that. He bolted from the bed as the screams grew louder and more shrill. It was a woman's voice, and she was obviously in pain. Masaki dashed down the stairs to investigate.
When Masaki reached his study, he found the door to his father's special collection room wide open. Someone had gone into that forbidden place. Another scream sounded from within. Steeling his nerves, Masaki plucked his father's katana from its place above the mantle. With the upmost caution, he crept towards the doorway and peeked in.
The sight that greeted Masaki was horrifying. A young woman was lying on a blood-soaked table, her arms and legs tied down to the four table legs. Standing over her was none other than Masuki's servant, Takeo. He gave a wicked grin as he brandished a knife and sliced off a layer of skin from the woman's arm. The woman was already missing patches of skin on her other limbs. She let out another piercing shriek as the knife sliced through skin.
Unable to stand by while this woman was being flayed alive, Masuki jumped into the room with his katana in hand. "Get away from her, Takeo."
Takeo's head snapped up and he nearly dropped his knife in surprise. "Si-i-ir. What are you doing here? The tea should have knocked you out cold."
Masaki's eyes widened in realization. His own manservant had been drugging him. No wonder he had slept through a murder within his own home. He wouldn't be surprised if the drugged tea had been the cause of his nightmares too. Rage consumed Masaki. He let out a feral snarl and lunged at his servant. Takeo did his best to deflect Masaki's blows, but the count's fury soon overwhelmed him. The knife was knocked from Takeo's hand and Masaki carved a deep gash across his opponent's chest. He held the blade to Takeo's neck, a thin trail of blood dripping down the servant's neck as he pressed the sharp tip against his skin.
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now?" Masaki resisted the urge to just plunge the blade into Takeo's neck. The man surely deserved it. The woman sobbing on the table, her tears mixing with her own blood, was clear evidence of that.
Takeo blinked rapidly and his mouth twitched. "I did this for you. I did this to prepare you."
"What in the Emperor's name could this be preparing me for?" Masaki said in disbelief. He had not been around his father during the worst of his madness, but he suspected it was much like this.
"To save the Emperor, of course," Takeo said, completely convinced by his own words. "The vultures are circling. First it was the Privy Council and now the NLP. They seek to make themselves the true rulers of Nippon. They must be stopped."
"You are mad," Masaki said in disgust, pressing his katana harder against Takeo's flesh. Another trail of blood flowed down his neck.
Takeo started to laugh, twitching ever so slightly. "No, I am the only sane one. I see the truth, just like your father did. He at least tried to do something about it."
"My father was insane," Masaki said with a grimace. "He brought his fate upon himself."
"You are more like him than you think."
Masaki refused to accept that. He was not mad. No logical rationale could explain his father's action. He would never pursue such actions. Masaki was so nearly consumed by his own thoughts that he almost missed Takeo's slight movement. The man had managed to inch his hand towards his knife and wielded it once more. The servant lunged up at him, trying to stab him in the chest. Masaki spun aside, letting Takeo slip past him. Takeo may have been a butcher based on the mutilated bodies Masaki had seen, but he was no swordsman. Masaki's experience in the Imperial Army gave him an advantage. As Takeo stumbled past, Masaki swung his katana around with all his force. It cut through flesh, severing Takeo's head from his shoulders. The head rolled away and a fountain of blood spurted from the torso. The woman still tied to the table screamed at the sight.
It was over. Masaki had found the man responsible for the murders. He had almost started to suspect himself, fearing that he had gone so mad he didn't even remember committing them. He could finally sleep peacefully with the true culprit dead. Masaki cut the woman free and fetched some bandages for her wounds. He was going to have a hell of a time explaining this to his colleagues in the Ministry of Justice.