The Case Files of Jeweler Richard

I’m back! I hope you’re all doing well during this time. So many things happened since I went on hiatus, but I hope this will cheer you up, even if it will take a while before we get to the juicy stuff.

Also, I made a ! You’re under no obligation to donate but any support is appreciated!

The management of milk was a battle against time.

If it was expired and left as it was, a disgusting white hell would appear in a corner of the refrigerator. And if it was early summer, like now, then hygiene management was a matter of life and death.

The Ginza jewelry store where I worked, “Jewelry Étranger”, was located in a rented office space that used to be a coffee shop. The fridge was huge and convenient, but it was a person’s job to manage its interior. We were only open for two days—Saturday and Sunday—a week, but by the preferences of the owner, we easily gone through one carton of milk per week. If there were a lot of customers scheduled to come, then even more was used. Because of that…

“Isn’t it a good day for buying two cartons though?”

“The customers who were scheduled to come today, the Satomuras, have called to cancel a short while ago. It appears that they will come the week after next.”

“They would have made it in time if they emailed ten minutes ago…”

“They called five minutes ago.”

The owner, sitting on a red single sofa, looked at me as if to chide me. Though I had long gotten used to it, his blue eyes were stunningly beautiful no matter how many times I looked at them. Porcelain white skin. Soft, wavy golden hair. The time was ten-thirty a.m. Faint light was shining onto the windowsill.

Richard Ranashinha de Vulpian—a tongue-twister of a name that I had only recently come to be able to say without fumbling. This man, who did business on the second floor of a building on Ginza’s 7th District, was a self-styled English jeweler. In the past, he apparently ran a store in Hong Kong, so he saw plenty of international customers. He was my only boss, and incidentally, I was the only part-timer. My duties were serving tea, cleaning, and going out to buy teacakes. It was my routine to buy milk at the supermarket on Saturdays before I went to the store. The number of cartons was designated by text on Friday nights.

“This is definitely too much. What should I do…”

“There will be a receipt for your expenses, as usual. I shall pay you for the full amount.”

“No, that’s not the problem.”

I didn’t know where Richard lived, or if he even lived in Japan in the first place. Was it a cycle of staying in an apartment in Shinjuku or something or commuting from Omiya, going straight to the airport after closing the store on Sunday and doing business in America or somewhere else, and then returning to Japan around the next Friday night? At any rate, he wasn’t going to bring milk back. Throwing away what you can still drink was a bit against my policy.

“Hey, this is unrelated to what we’ve been talking about, but there’s gonna be just a bit bigger portion of milk in today’s royal milk tea.”

“No. You must not disturb the specified balance. I emphatically refuse.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Richard was gentle and intelligent, a sensible and understanding gentleman, but when it came to royal milk tea, he was an extremist. For tea leaves, the ones he carried around with him in an orange can were used. A teaspoon and a half of tea leaves for each person. Each cup of milk was equivalent to a cup and a half of the enamel cup he brought, and I could only use the unhomogenized kind. A little spoonful of sugar. I learned during my training period that I would be find out immediately if I cut corners. It was on par with the pickiness of a child who had an unbalanced diet. Nevertheless, I felt that the root of this pickiness connected to the observing eye he showed from time to time towards the gemstones and the customers, so I couldn’t dislike it too much.

After storing the unhomogenized milk in the kitchen fridge, I called out to Richard again. The owner was still reading an English newspaper on the sofa.

“There’s a cat that shows up a lot near the parking lot where you park your Jaguar. It’s a black one. I don’t know its name, but I see it eating something from a rice bowl sometimes, so maybe it’s a housecat that’s half stray? I’ll give it a little bit of our milk.”

“I cannot think well of that. The milk you give to cats should be specialized for animals. More than anything, feeding animals whose owners you do not know is a source of trouble.”

“I’m truly very sorry.”

“As long as you understand.”

I thought I was going to be told that. I thought that that black cat was probably loved by the family who managed the parking lot, but because it was so friendly, it got me to pet it a little when I catch sight of it on my way home. I liked both cats and dogs, but my apartment back home didn’t allow animals, so I had never taken care of one. And as a matter of course, keeping a living thing in the apartment where I lived alone was out of the question.

“…This is another thing that’s unrelated to what we’re talking about, but you like milk agar or stuff like that?”*

(TN: The agar here is not the kind used in microbiology, but an ingredient used in many Asian desserts.)

“Your formal language is incomprehensible sometimes. What did you say about milk?”

“Agar, you know, hardened jelly. All you have to do is add some sugar, boil it, and set it. If I buy agar from the high-end supermarket over there, and there’s equipment in the kitchen, then I think I can make it tomorrow.”

“Did you convert to Hinduism? You absolutely cannot waste the milk of the sacred cow?”

“That unexpected development is way too much. I just don’t want to throw away something you can eat. And taking it home with me is like taking out equipment from the store. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

“…I am also bringing up something unrelated to our conversation, but does the typical Japanese male student have enough mastery in cooking that he could easily make sweets out of leftovers?”

“It’s just boiling and chilling, so it’s not a mastery or anything like that. Even a little kid can do it.”

When I said that, Richard kept silent and averted his eyes, staring idly at the carpet. It was a terribly wild and dishevelled look. Did he have bad memories with cooking?

“…Oh, are you talking about Japanese culture? Well, I’m not sure. I just remembered it because it was a simple way to save money, and I’ve been making and eating it since I was little…my mom was pleased too…sorry, I got off topic. I don’t think it’s the majority. Why do you ask?”

“…I like pudding more.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

With that, Richard turned away without saying anything more. Sometimes, this guy said things I really did not understand. He wasn’t a Japanese native, but as long as you listened to him with your eyes closed, he spoke with a pronunciation you could only think of as coming from a Japanese person, and he knew a lot of obscure words. That was why it was difficult to imagine that there would be discrepancies in this sort of communication, but oh well. I didn’t fret over the details.

The answers were uniformly “The sun will set by the time I answered all of your questions.”

Instead of feeling angry, I felt the strange power that a transcendentally beautiful face held. I knew that the other person was just a human like me, and I thought of him as just a foreign young guy who liked strange sweets—I knew all that very well, but in the end, it didn’t seem like we existed in the same dimension. I felt like my hand would completely go through him if I touched him. Should I say that the sense of reality was lacking? It was an experience that made me accept by myself that such things happened when someone was too beautiful.

But, Richard was a good guy. He never looked down on people, laughed at them behind their backs, or hate them meaninglessly. That was the number one reason why I couldn’t get angry even when he was cold to me. And, everyone has their own circumstances. That was what I was taught from my deceased Grandma.

She told me, Everyone has something they can‘t talk about, not that they won‘t talk about it, right, Seigi?

Nakata Seigi. Not Masayoshi, Seigi. Although it was a name like a fastball of a wish to do the righteous thing, I had only found out whose wish was that very recently. This jeweler also helped out considerably. He was a benefactor-like existence, in addition.

Suddenly opening your hand completely wasn’t all it took to make a relationship one of mutual trust. There are all kinds of ways to get close to someone, I came to think ever since I started working at Richard’s store.

When the flavoring of the royal milk tea for two became just right, a chime sounded from the store’s entryway. Since it was an electronic lock, the door wouldn’t open unless you opened it from the inside. I leaned out from the kitchen and responded with a “Yeeees.”

“Coming–!”

“This is not your own home.”

Telling me to watch the pot, Richard stood up from the sofa. The smart white shirt disappeared from my field of vision. When the door was opened, it was odd that I didn’t hear his usual greeting of “Welcome.”

“Hello. Is this the jewelry store?”

Instead, there was a single young voice.

“Is this the jewelry store?”

The voice pressed. I turned off the gas—I must not turn my eyes away from royal milk tea on a lit stove. The kitchen became a serious affair with the small bubbles that boiled over, and the owner’s anger also seethed quietly. It was more dangerous here—I headed out to the reception room.

The one who Richard was face-to-face with was a child.

A small body that was distinctly two heads shorter than me. The backpack on his shoulders had a reflective key holder in the shape of a cat face attached to it. Shorts and white socks. Big round eyes, slightly thick brows, and soft looking hair. He was a boy who looked like he was a student at a private school. He had wise-looking features. Was he a child star or something? No, that wasn’t the problem here.

I squatted down, matched our heights, then pasted a smile onto my face.

“Welcome. Hey, where did you come from? Where is your mom or dad?”

“Didn’t you understand what I said? I came to a jewelry store because I have something to do here.”

“…By yourself?”

The kid nodded with a yes. An articulate and well-spoken child. I threw my gaze fleetingly, and Richard shook his head slightly. It seemed that he never met this kid before. The store opened this April, and so far I showed up at the store without missing a day of work. There were some customers who brought their kids along with them, but this was the first time I was seeing this kid.

For a while, Richard looked like he was somewhat at a loss as to what to do, but perhaps having made up his mind, he then gave the kid a courteous bow.

“Hello. I am the owner of this store, my name is Richard. This is my assistant, Seigi. If you please, would you tell me your name?”

The kid seemed a bit overwhelmed by the possessor of such fair beauty, but he then abruptly turned his face away.

“…When I buy clothes from the clothes store, I don’t tell every worker there my name.”

Although that was a fairly sound argument, it was dodgy. Was there some sort of special reason?

As I frowned, wondering what to do, Richard offered him a sofa with a nonchalant air. The kid, who thanked him briskly, sat on a red sofa. His legs dangled over it.

“Seigi, give him something to drink. What would you like?”

“No tea, please. I can’t drink bitter things. No juice either, please. It’s bad for my teeth.”

When I asked him if he would like milk then, he nodded quickly. It seemed to be OK. One serving of hot milk. He deigned to tell me not to put any sugar, but to please make it sweet. Was he Ikkyu-san?* I would add some honey.

(TN: Ikkyu-san was a classic anime based on the life of Zen Buddhist monk Ikkyu Sojun. According to Wikipedia, he was a wise and mischievous little boy in the anime.)

“Now, dear customer, for what purpose did you come to our jewelry store?”

“I would like the same stone as this, please.”

I, who was about to leave for the kitchen, stopped in my tracks and peered in the kid’s direction. He took out something that looked like a small silk-wrapped parcel out of the pocket of his shorts, and presented it to Richard. The stone inside seemed quite large.

Richard, without saying anything, narrowed his eyes.

“This is a chrysoberyl cat’s eye.”

“Yes, it is a cat’s eye.”

My eyes widened. Was he carrying around a real gemstone? This kid who was at the age to seem like he would end a day with a nap, games, and dodgeball?

He really did not seem to be a lost child.

When I approached the two of them, wanting to see the stone from a bit closer, the kid noticed me and glared at me with cold eyes.

“Is the milk not ready yet? Aren’t you the assistant?”

“The assistant is the assistant, but I don’t just prepare drinks. I sweep and tidy up, and I go out on shopping runs. Well, I’m not a gemstone pro though.”

“I understand. So there’s not really any point in talking to you.”

I somehow managed to keep my customer service smile on my face. What was with this spoiled brat? A kid shoving a cat’s eye into his pocket and coming to the store without naming himself was like the embodiment of suspiciousness. I couldn’t stand it anymore and cleared my throat.

“Hey, Richard, I think there’s a police box across the clock tower. I should head over there.”

“For what reason?”

“Because his parents might be looking for him! They’ve got to be worried. They’ll be making a big fuss because their precious son aimlessly vanished off to somewhere. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to go back home soon.”

The small child expressionlessly looked at my face for a minute, and then abruptly turned to Richard.

“Does this person lack the faculty to understand? I’m a customer who came here to buy a gem. I don’t have any need for you, so it doesn’t matter if you’re not here.”

I could a vein throbbing at my temple. What the hell was “lack the faculty to understand.” Don’t use such words that only appeared in language textbooks so skillfully. He was a sharp-tongued boy who was reminiscent of a miniature Richard.

Noticing my expression, the owner suppressed a laugh and then apologized to little lord. “My part-timer has said some discourteous things.”

“He is simply worried. You came here by yourself? Who referred you?”

“The referrer is, um, a secret. But it’s fine! I have money. It’s all in my ‘name’. I saved up all my New Year’s money, but…I was told to use it in important times, so it’s fine. I think this is that time.”

“If he has a bankbook, wouldn’t that save some time? His identity must be written in it. Hey, give me your bankbook for a minute, if it’s alright with you.”

“I refuse. Giving a stranger something important is absolutely not okay. Also, your voice when you’re trying to get someone to do something sounds just like a shady person from a crime prevention DVD.”

“Seigi, milk. I will have some tea.”

Whose side are you on, I thought, drawing my lips tightly, and Richard repeated his request for tea. Royal milk tea. His usual. I understood. As long as there was a customer, my job was only to prepare tea and sweets. I understood that, but…

“…It’s not fair. I gave my name properly. You hiding your name is like you’re a villain, isn’t it! This is just the personal opinion of an assistant who lacks the faculty to understand though!”

“Seigi, are you the child here?”

“Cuz you—”

“You might be right.”

The owner of that voice was the kid.

The owner of large dark eyes looked up at me fixedly. His posture was also good. I wondered if it would it be going too far to call him self-possessed. He didn’t seem very much like a kid.

“You do have a point. They say on the news that proud customers are annoyances for stores. I don’t think it’s as bad as a stubborn assistant though. My name is Hajime. Hajime is written with hiragana. But I’m not telling you my last name.”

Is that okay with you, Hajime-kun asked. Were all elementary schoolers like this nowadays? No, that couldn’t be. This common ground was too good.

“…Got it. Nice to meet you, Hajime-kun.”

“No. You should call me ‘Dear Customer’ too, please. Do it again.”

I took back what I said. As expected, I was heading to the police box. I should go there in this case. When I started persuading Richard of this, Hajime-kun-san’s eyes turned into ice.

“If you’re talking about that so much, then I don’t mind. I’ll even go with you to the police box. I don’t think I can beat you when it comes to strength. But I won’t be going on my own two feet after all. And, I’ll cry a lot. I’ll say that you’re a bad guy. I’ll say you kidnapped me. Are you really going to go to the police box after all I said all that? It’ll be a big scene. I’m not bothered at all though.”

Holy crap. This was extortion. He was saying that he would treat me like a criminal.

However, his voice was shaking a bit at the end of his sentence.

Come to think of it, I was a hundred-and-seventy-five centimeters tall. Thanks to the karate classes I used to go to, I was big enough to be a drunk-repelling device. I didn’t think I looked frightening, but I might be a scary person to a little kid. And even the slender Richard, though fluent in the language, was a foreigner.

When I glanced over at the owner, Richard pointed up at the ceiling from the inside of his crossed arms. This store had security cameras. The footage would prove that he wasn’t kidnapped. However, there was no need to go to the police box hastily either. I bowed my head deeply.

“I am…truly…very sorry.”

“…As long as you understand. I am a reasonable customer, after all.”

“Yes sir, I am much blessed with happiness.”*

(TN: The word used here is ありがたき幸せ, which is an old-fashioned way of saying thank you or “I am grateful for this happiness. If you got a better way to word this, let me know in the comments!)

“You don’t need to talk like you’re in a period drama. It’s not natural. Owner-san, could you please show me the stones? There’s no sales items in this store at all.”

“We will prepare everything right away. We considered situations when thieves will come and stored all our stones in a place far back. Seigi, please entertain our dear customer.”

Richard chided me with his eyes. He was telling me to not make a mistake in my treatment of him. I knew it well. Hajime-kun was a “dear customer.” Otherwise, we would just be a little kid and two adults. That wouldn’t do. That kind of situation was too frightening for a kid.

In addition, he seemed to have a goal for coming here.

I took in a small, deep breath. I supposed getting him to tell me where his house was would be all right even after this general business was over.

Richard disappeared into the back room where the vault was, and I started talking in an easygoing voice to Hajime-kun, who had stiffened slightly.

“Dear customer, could I have you choose the sweets together with me? There are different kinds, so I will be in a fix if I didn’t know which kind you like.”

“Your bribery scheme won’t work on me. I’m not telling you anything.”

“You sure do know a lot of difficult words like that…”

Be that as it may, Hajime-kun stood from the sofa and came with me to the kitchen. Next to the fridge, there was a tall light brown shelf with double doors which was probably used as storage for tableware when this place was a coffee shop, but now it was a paradise of sweets selected by the owner. Chocolates in boxes. Cookies wrapped in gold wrapping paper. Fluffy baked sweets that were okay to store at room temperature. Hermetically sealed fruit jellies. Mitsumame in can-shaped packaging*, and all kinds of other things.

(TN: Mitsumame is a dessert made of small cubes of agar jelly and accompanied by fruits.)

“Wow…”

I felt that the bribery scheme succeeded, more or less.