"Is there any hallucinogen in the turtle soup?" Minamoto Tamako asked.
"No."
"Has the boy ever drunk turtle soup before?" Minamoto Tamako asked.
"No."
"Is the boy's suicide related to anyone else?" Minamoto Tamako asked.
"No."
...
She asked about a dozen questions, constructed four or five deductions of the truth, but they were all wrong, and her questions didn't hit the mark.
"Why is it so difficult?" Minamoto Tamako clicked her tongue in her heart.
When someone asks continuously, it can help another person eliminate wrong options and provide ideas for solving the puzzle. Since even she had no clue, Fushimi Roku must be just as confused. This guy has been silent the whole time, his brain must be quite literally steaming...
She turned her head to look at Fushimi Roku, only to find that he wasn't thinking at all.
The latter had at some point picked up a paintbrush and continued drawing lines on the white paper.
Minamoto Tamako bit her silver teeth in the dark, thinking how arrogant this guy was, not even taking this reasoning duel seriously! If she'd known, she would have bet something with him, so he could taste the agony of losing and kneeling in regret!
"Fushimi, do you have anything to ask?" she tugged on Fushimi Roku's hem.
"You asked everything?" Fushimi Roku put down his pen.
"More or less."
"Did you deduce the truth?"
"Not yet..."
"Then let me ask," Fushimi Roku moved his drawing board aside and casually asked, "Does the boy dislike turtle soup?"
Hideo hesitated for a second: "Yes."
Minamoto Tamako was taken aback, thinking what kind of question was this? Is personal preference part of the answer?
"Does the boy suffer from depression?" Fushimi Roku asked again.
"Yes." Hideo's response became noticeably quicker.
"Then the answer is obvious," Fushimi Roku said, "The boy drank the turtle soup he hated the most, felt bad, and thus committed suicide."
"Huh?" Minamoto Tamako said, "How can that be..."
"Right." Hideo nodded: "That is the answer."
The question and answer ended too quickly for Minamoto Tamako to react.
Her little brain buzzed, thinking is this it? Where are the clues? The twist? The plot? Just a depressed person killing themselves because of bad mood?
"Then, then, why did your riddle say 'a blind boy'? That answer has nothing to do with blindness!" Minamoto Tamako questioned.
"Because blindness led to depression," Hideo said softly.
Isn't that too hasty?!
Minamoto Tamako was unconvinced, she felt Fushimi Roku was just lucky, a blind cat stumbling upon a dead rat, insisting on competing again.
Fushimi Roku didn't take advantage of her rush to raise the stakes or ask for any challenge fee but agreed with the gaze of an adult looking at a child.
The next thirty minutes were an unforgettable nightmare for Minamoto Tamako.
Hideo posed three original answers, and she didn't win a single round.
No matter how she guessed, reasoned, or thought, even playing clever tricks by letting Fushimi Roku ask first, they were all to no avail. As soon as Fushimi Roku asked, he would deduce the answer within three questions.
It was the first time Minamoto Tamako was intellectually crushed, her little heart almost bursting, her brain thinking until it was bloodied, yet to no avail.
Once could be luck, twice could be a coincidence, but after three times, Minamoto Tamako couldn't fool herself anymore.
The most frightening thing for her was that even after losing three rounds, she couldn't see how Fushimi Roku won.
"Could it be you have some mind reading technique? Or maybe some superpower?" she stared at Fushimi Roku: "Is that why you unconsciously look over people's heads?"
"Is admitting failure so difficult?" Fushimi Roku retorted.
Minamoto Tamako hesitated for a while, reluctantly lowered her head: "Alright, I lost."
Then she grabbed Fushimi Roku's sleeve, blushing, "But how did you do it? Can you explain your line of reasoning?"
"Answering questions is 500 yen per session," Fushimi Roku held out his hand, "Isn't that cheap? Just the price of a bowl of ramen, no tricking kids or the elderly."
Life at the police academy was too dull; teasing her was actually quite relieving of stress.
"Okay."
Minamoto Tamako pouted, dug out a piggy bank from her uniform pocket.
Fushimi Roku glanced, saw the pig's belly bulging, stuffed with ten thousand yen bills bearing Fukuzawa Yukichi's portrait. Minamoto Tamako stuck in her pinky nail, scratched out a 500 yen coin, and handed it to him with a serious face.
Is there really a little rich girl coming to the police academy for self-inflicted torture? Fushimi Roku was slightly surprised.
He accepted the coin, flicked it with his finger, and the metal circle traced an arc in mid-air, falling in front of Hideo.
The latter caught it in a flurry, nodded apologetically, and left with a chair.
"Eh?" Minamoto Tamako was stunned.
"Still didn't get it?" Fushimi Roku said: "I bribed the questioner with money, so no matter what you asked, he'd only answer no."
In Fushimi Roku's eyes, the vice on Hideo's head was just four words:
"Greed for money is life"
Minamoto Tamako trembled and said: "So, your answers were..."
"That's right, I was making them all up. Whatever I said, he'd only answer 'yes'." Fushimi Roku's lips curled, quite pleased.
"You—you—that's fraud!!"
When Minamoto Tamako got emotional, she stammered.
"Crime is just stepping outside the frame to conduct fraudulent behavior, do you think the perpetrator will play intellectual games with you within the set rules?" Fushimi Roku spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.
Minamoto Tamako countered: "All murder cases are traceable, as long as..."
"Let me give you an example. Suppose someone, while mountain climbing, on a whim, wearing gloves, pushes a stranger off a cliff, how would you investigate this case?" Fushimi Roku asked.
Minamoto Tamako said: "How could someone kill for no reason? It doesn't establish from the motive..."
Fushimi Roku pointed a pencil at her and said: "In 1983, there was a cliff fall case in Fukuoka Prefecture, no witnesses, no suspects, police spent much manpower setting controls and investigating, discovered another person also went mountain climbing that day. After interrogation, that person admitted to pushing the victim off the cliff."
Just as Minamoto Tamako was about to speak, Fushimi Roku switched the topic:
"But! After hiring a lawyer, the suspect retracted the confession, claiming to be coerced into confession by the police. The prosecution lacked sufficient evidence to charge, and the final result was the suspect's acquittal, case officers resigned, indirectly promoting the legislation of 'suspect's confession as valid evidence' in Japan."
Fushimi Roku extended a finger, making a gesture: "Do you know what percentage of bizarre impulse homicide cases constitute in Japanese criminal cases?"
"Eighty percent?" Minamoto Tamako stared at his finger.
"Eighty percent."
Fushimi Roku put down the pen, looked down at her, continued:
"How many cases in the world are as complex as riddles? The investigation process isn't about finding evidence first, and then using evidence to pinpoint suspects. It's about speculating a suspect first, and finding evidence based on this range."
"Once a suspect is identified, the game is over."
"That is also the reason why detectives are out of date; it never really made sense from the start, it's just a logic-based intellectual game. Replaced by criminal psychology, the consultants hired by police are no longer detectives but criminal psychology experts—because humans themselves, are the most unpredictable chaotic factor in the reasoning process."
"This is the first lesson I teach you for free."
Fushimi Roku blew on the sketch paper; his portrait assignment for the day was complete.