Chapter 11 Residence

With Kamishima Kousuke's connections in real estate, finding an apartment was effortless. The rent was absurdly cheap, and the location couldn't be better — a relatively bustling part of Bunkyo District, a twenty-minute walk to both his future workplace and the nearest station. Most people didn't get this lucky. The landlord was a woman who'd been living abroad long-term; Kamishima's office handled her rental business. But the low rent wasn't just a favor between acquaintances. There was another reason — the kind of thing that bothered Japanese people in particular.

Kamishima parked in the attached lot and pulled the key from the ignition. "The parking space isn't included in building fees — you buy it separately, once a year. Does Ma-san have a driver's license? If so, I can help transfer it to a Japanese license. If not, you'll need to test for one. Even if you already know how to drive, it takes at least three days."

"I have one. I'll get it to you later," Ma En said.

They got out and went around to the trunk. Kamishima reached for the suitcase first, gripping the handle with both hands and pulling. It didn't budge. He adjusted his stance and tried again, his face reddening with effort.

Ma En reached past him, took the handle in one hand, and swung the suitcase out of the trunk.

Kamishima stared. "Ma-san is... very strong." The implication was clear — nothing about Ma En's build had suggested this was possible.

"Brought a lot of reference materials," Ma En said with a smile. "I'll need to buy daily necessities fresh."

Kamishima's surprise turned to open admiration. "Always studying, always improving — Ma-san truly is a model Party member. Food and clothing matter, but so do books."

"It's nothing. Back home, there are plenty of people who study harder than I do. If I don't push myself, I'll fall behind."

"I envy that. If our country had more young people like Ma-san, we wouldn't need two parties to govern." Kamishima said it lightly. Ma En took it for what it was — a modest joke, nothing more.

They chatted their way out of the parking lot. At the security gate they signed in before entering the building proper. Cameras were everywhere — around the exterior, in the lobbies, along the corridors. The security system looked thorough and well-maintained, but Kamishima's earlier mention of the unusual rent kept the word "but" hovering in the air. Ma En wasn't troubled. Deals this good didn't come from luck alone — there was always a reason. Kamishima clearly needed his help with something, and whatever that something was, Ma En had a professional interest in it. His instincts told him that encountering this kind of situation the moment he arrived in Japan was no accident.

What other people would run from, Ma En might have been looking for.

The building had four elevators for different purposes. The apartment was Room 4 on the 13th floor. The numbers alone told Ma En he probably knew what was wrong. It wasn't hard to guess. If the issue was limited to a single unit — not the whole building — and it was the kind of thing that bothered Japanese tenants but wouldn't faze someone from the Mainland, the list of possibilities was short.

The elevator emptied floor by floor until only the two of them remained. In the quiet of the enclosed space, Kamishima spoke.

"About the issue I mentioned earlier. Some people say this room is haunted."

"Not for the first time, I assume," Ma En said.

"No. Not the first time." Kamishima showed no surprise at Ma En's perceptiveness — as though this was exactly what he'd expected from the young man he'd been assigned to receive. "In the twenty years since this building went up, seven or eight people have died in that room. I haven't checked the exact number. The causes of death vary, but the date and location are always the same. August 24th. Room 4."

He let that settle for a moment.

"The room's been renovated four times. Religious practitioners have been consulted. Nothing's changed. The most recent death was last year — August 24th again. That reignited the rumors, and with this year's date approaching, the previous tenant moved out in a hurry." He glanced at Ma En. "I've heard that on your side, you don't consult religious figures for these things?"

"It's not encouraged," Ma En said calmly. "But no one goes out of their way to stop it, either."

"I see."

"So Kamishima-san is calling in a favor," Ma En said.

"Exactly. The rent on this unit is always low, but not usually this low." Kamishima turned to face him. "The Party doesn't believe in ghosts. I'd imagine this isn't a problem for you. And even if it were — someone died just last year. I find it hard to believe it'll happen again so soon. The historical deaths have never been consecutive. It's just that we Japanese tend to take these omens seriously."

"No problem at all," Ma En said. "Ordinary folks back home take these things seriously too. Personally, I don't mind. And if there really are ghosts..." He let a faint smile show. "I'd actually like to meet one."

"Over the past century, the Party has worked tirelessly across Asia and Australia to combat feudal superstition and promote religious legislation. The burden on governments has genuinely decreased — proof of our correctness on this front." Kamishima paused, and when he spoke again, his tone shifted. "But Ma-san. That doesn't mean every ghost story is mere superstition. Dangerous things hide behind supernatural rumors. If this room poses a real threat, I'd urge you to act decisively. In Shinjuku, for example, serious crimes have been laundered into urban legends. The legends are fiction, but the criminal activity behind them is very real."

Ma En said nothing. He looked at Kamishima — really looked — and saw that the man wasn't quite the pure rationalist he professed to be. When Kamishima's gaze came to him, Ma En didn't look away. He nodded.

"The truth is, Red Party International hasn't completely stamped out superstition — not in Russia, and not here. Religious legislation has involved compromises at every turn. That's the reality of complex national circumstances; you can't say the effort wasn't made. All the more reason for Party members to lead by example. Combating crime isn't Ma-san's job, but assisting in it is every Party member's duty." Kamishima spoke with the steady conviction of someone who meant every word. "I've done some preliminary research on Room 4 myself. I'll hand the materials over shortly — you can draw your own conclusions. I don't believe the haunting rumors. But I don't think the situation is simple, either. If Ma-san were physically frail, or didn't have the right background, I wouldn't have recommended this apartment."

"Then I appreciate your confidence in me," Ma En said. He'd heard the warning beneath the courtesy. "I'll handle things as they come. And if it turns out to be more than I can manage, I won't try to tough it out alone."

"Good. Ma-san is a smart man, and smart men know their limits. One more friend means one more resource. Whatever comes up — anything at all — you can call me. If I can't help, we have more friends who can." Kamishima straightened. "You've probably heard this a hundred times, but I'll say it once more, and I mean it: the Party is your strongest ally. Whether at the Yellow River or the Yangtze, in the sea of trees at Fuji's base, across the Siberian snowfields, or even deep in the capitalist adversary's own territory — the Red Party's radiance is always beside you."

Ma En laughed. He couldn't help it. He'd heard that Japanese speech could be dramatic, that people here loved giving things grandiose names and wrapping sentiment in sweeping language. But hearing it firsthand — delivered with total sincerity, in the middle of a serious conversation — hit differently than he'd expected. Back home, words like those were jokes. Nobody said them with a straight face during an actual discussion.

Kamishima's expression hardened.

"I know it sounds different to you. But this is Japan. The people here grew up in this kind of linguistic environment. If you treat it as a joke — if you don't adapt to how we communicate — you'll come across as rigid at best. At worst, you'll lose credibility with ordinary people, and that makes integration much harder." His tone was firm but not unkind. "You've just arrived. I don't expect you to fit in overnight. But in your speech and interactions, you need to be aware of this. Observe. Don't dismiss what you hear as exaggeration."

Ma En considered this. Then he answered seriously: "Understood. I'll pay attention. Respecting local customs and integrating into the community — that's a basic requirement of being a Party member. I won't neglect it."

"Good." Kamishima's expression eased. "What feels like exaggeration to you is, for us, simply vivid expression. It's deeply connected to our cultural environment, and it's not a bad thing. Does Ma-san watch anime? If not, I'd recommend it. The anime industry is on a sharp upward trajectory — it's about to become a major pillar of our economy, and it's reshaping how people live and communicate. Understanding it will help you understand us."

As he finished speaking, the elevator chimed. The doors slid open onto the 13th floor.

Room 4 was the second door on the left. From the outside, it looked identical to every other unit — same door style, same nameplate material, same numbering font, equipped with a peephole and a doorbell. The whole setup felt more modern than anything Ma En had lived in before. He noticed immediately that there were no steel security doors — the kind you saw on every apartment in China.

"Steel security doors?" Kamishima looked genuinely baffled. "Your home invasion rate is lower than ours, and you still install extra doors?" He stared at Ma En as if he'd just learned humans could breathe underwater. "We barely even use deadbolts here. I mean, some people have started adding them — making their doors a bit thicker — but an entire additional door?" He thought about it. "Doesn't that look terrible? It makes your own home look like a prison."

Ma En just smiled. The reality was complicated — China's home invasion rate was low precisely because of those doors and the barred windows that went with them, even as people's sense of security continued to decline for other reasons. But Kamishima had a point about the aesthetics. Most security doors in China were functional, not decorative. That was the result of balancing practicality, cost, design, and consumer choice.

"If you have the money, you can make them look nice," he said.

"If you have the money, invest in a proper security system. Better than any door." Kamishima was already done with the topic. The cultural gap had registered — even between perceptive Party Comrades, even between near neighbors, some things were simply different. But it wasn't worth dwelling on.

He rummaged through his briefcase, found the key, and unlocked the door. Then he placed one of the keys in Ma En's hand.

"The key is now in your possession," he said. The formality was deliberate.

"Thank you." Ma En was still getting used to the way Kamishima calibrated his tone to match each moment's significance.

Kamishima stepped aside and gestured for Ma En to push the door open himself. Ma En obliged. As he stepped through, Kamishima spoke from behind him: "Shoes off in the entryway. Outside shoes and indoor shoes stay separate." He reached past Ma En and pressed a section of the wall. It popped open — a concealed storage cabinet, built flush into the surface.

"Shoes, coats, umbrellas, whatever you need for going out — it all fits in here. Spacious, isn't it? Every tenant who's chosen this building loves it." Pride crept into Kamishima's voice. He turned to the opposite side, where a vase and a scroll of calligraphy occupied a small alcove. The wall decoration had a distinctly Japanese quality — the kind of thing you'd see in a film set in a traditional home — but with modern touches woven in. "A professional designer did the interior. Renovating it yourself isn't permitted."

"Oh —" Ma En stopped short, genuinely impressed. This was a level of attention he hadn't expected. He had no idea whether high-end rentals in China could match this, but ordinary ones certainly didn't. Back home, rentals were functional. Tenants were allowed to modify them, and when they left, the place always bore the marks of whoever had lived there before.

They toured the living room, master bedroom, guest room, and balcony. The kitchen was semi-open — a half-wall separating the cabinets and appliances from the main space, no full enclosure. You could see the entire living room while cooking. The flip side: apart from a standing range hood, there was no additional ventilation.

"We don't do heavy stir-frying here. Light oil, light salt." Kamishima said it like a fact of nature. "I wouldn't recommend making Chinese dishes that require a hot wok, either — not with an open kitchen like this. Your eating habits will need some adjustment."

For the first time since arriving in Japan, Ma En grimaced. "That's going to be rough."

"Which is exactly why people don't leave home unless they truly have to — or truly want to." Kamishima said this without looking at Ma En, and it wasn't clear whether he was talking about him specifically. Then he moved on to the building's rules and regulations: living in Japan, living in this apartment, how to sort trash, when to put it out, which bags to use. The list was long enough that Ma En had to pull out a pen and paper. He didn't dare rely on memory for any of it. This was his daily life now.

"The bathroom is impressive." If Ma En had to name one thing about the apartment that genuinely delighted him, it was this. To Kamishima, it was just standard issue — shower, bathtub, basin, and a separate changing area — but Ma En's standards of comparison were different.

"It looks nice, but for a real bath, go to the public bathhouses nearby. Or a hot spring, if you want to make a trip of it. The deluxe suites at the better hotels aren't bad either." Kamishima warmed to the subject. "Your salary will cover these things on your days off. I'd suggest exploring. Japan isn't large — the high-speed rail can get you almost anywhere and back in a day. Every region has something worth seeing. We've developed a lot of tourism projects recently. Since Ma-san plans to stay long-term, you'll naturally want a deeper understanding of the country, yes?"

"Of course," Ma En said.

"That covers the essentials." Kamishima reached into his briefcase one last time and produced a stack of documents and a floppy disk. "These are the materials on the Room 4 incidents I mentioned. I've only done a preliminary pass — there are certainly gaps. I hope Ma-san will forgive the incomplete work."

"You're far too modest. I should be the one thanking you." Ma En dipped his head in a small bow, mirroring Kamishima's habit. "I'll handle it."

"Good. Ma-san's attitude is exactly right — I'm reassured." Kamishima gave a final nod. "The Party member's foundation: seek truth from facts, respect local customs. If you hold to that, you'll adapt quickly. This country can be insular in certain ways, but toward Party members of Ma-san's caliber, we're quite welcoming." One last reminder: "If any problems come up — personal or professional — don't hesitate to reach out."

"I will. Definitely."

"Then I'll take my leave."

"Please. And once I'm settled in, I'll call."

Ma En saw Kamishima to the door. As of now, he had a base. A few more pieces to put in place, and the real work could begin. Even tonight, there was plenty to do — the research materials he'd brought needed organizing. He suspected that, just like every night before this one, sleep would come late.