When night falls, the city is swallowed by fog.
It is not a mere natural phenomenon, but something far more sinister, more unknowable.
That is why those who vanish “beyond the fog” are never seen again.
“Please, Mr. Kujō—find my daughter!”
The woman who burst into the office was pale and desperate. Her name was Harue Saeki. Her daughter, Misaki, had been missing for three days.
“When did you last see her?”
“When she left the house. But before that, she’d been acting strangely… she kept saying, ‘There’s something in the fog.’ She was terrified.”
Kujō exhaled quietly. In this city, disappearances involving the fog were not uncommon. But no one had ever been able to trace them.
“The police?”
“They’re searching… but it’s useless. Everyone’s already given up.”
Her hands trembled.
“I’ll take the case. But the fee—only if I find her.”
She nodded over and over. Kujō pulled a silver pocket watch from his coat and studied its face. It was one of the reasons they called him the “Phantom Detective.”
This watch pointed not to time, but to the outline of what was lost.
Kujō stepped slowly into the fogbound city.
The thicker the fog, the more the city’s contours blurred.
A crumbling apartment hallway, a vagrant hunched beneath a shattered lamp, the faint outline of a leaning utility pole—everything slowly lost its form.
Eventually, the needle of the pocket watch began to quiver.
The heart of the fog was near.
He stopped, squinting into the haze. A faint human figure flickered ahead.
“…Misaki?”
The moment he called her name, the world warped.
Beyond the fog lay a city of monstrosity.
Buildings floated in midair, streetlights twisted in impossible directions. Shadows slithered through walls, and whispering voices echoed from nowhere.
“I’ve found you…”
There stood Misaki.
Her figure was faint, blurred at the edges, but her gaze was steady.
“We’re going home,” Kujō said, reaching out.
But Misaki shook her head.
“I can’t go back.”
“Why not?”
“Because… this is where I’ve always been.”
In that instant, countless hands emerged from the fog, wrapping around her.
“Stop!”
Kujō raised his pocket watch. The memories trapped within the fog flared into view.
—A dim apartment room. The girl always alone, staring out into the fog.
—“If you go into the fog, you can’t come back.”
—“But… if I stay here, no one will ever find me.”
She had already been on the verge of disappearing.
“Then I’ve found you,” Kujō said, gripping her hand tightly.
The fog split open. The twisted city began to crumble.
“Let’s go home, Misaki.”
She hesitated for a heartbeat. Then, her outline sharpened, becoming whole.
By morning, Kujō was back in his office.
Misaki sat curled in a chair, sleeping peacefully.
Harue sobbed as she embraced her daughter.
Kujō pocketed his watch and lit a cigarette.
The phantom detective of the fogbound city—
his work was far from over.
