After the reading of the will, the tension in the room was suffocating. My aunt remained silent, her gaze fixed on the table, while my uncles and cousins whispered among themselves, clearly pleased with the outcome.
There was no point in staying any longer.
I stood up, the letter clutched tightly in my hand.
"Where are you going?" Kenji asked mockingly. "Aren't you going to celebrate your new life as a farmer?"
The others laughed.
"Do whatever you want with your money," I replied coldly. "I'm leaving."
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out of the room, fully aware of their eyes on my back. I could still hear their whispers behind me, but I didn't bother to listen.
As I stepped outside, the cold night breeze brushed against my face. I looked down at the envelope in my hand before slipping it into the pocket of my coat.
There was no point opening it there.
I'd read it at home.
I called a cab and gave the driver my address. As the vehicle moved through the glowing streets of Tokyo, my mind drifted endlessly.
Why a farm?
What was Grandpa trying to tell me with all this?
The city lights blurred past the car window, reflecting the chaos in my thoughts.
Eventually, the taxi pulled up in front of my building. I paid the fare and went up to my apartment without a word.
Once inside, I slipped off my coat and tossed it onto the sofa. I walked over to the balcony—the place I always went when I needed to think.
With a mix of curiosity and anxiety, I unfolded the letter and began to read.
Dear Haruki,
If you're reading this, it means I'm no longer in this world. I'm sorry you had to sit through the will reading—but it was necessary. I know it couldn't have been easy for you.
I want you to understand that I couldn't leave you a fortune stained by greed and ambition. My life was full of mistakes, and the money I gathered wasn't always earned honorably. If I had named you heir to that wealth, I would've betrayed my own beliefs.
Instead, I'm leaving you something far more precious: the Spring Enchantment Farm.
You probably don't understand why I'd leave you a place like that. Allow me to explain.
Many years ago, before I became the man everyone came to know, I lived on that farm for a short while. It wasn't just land or property—it was a special place, one that only a few are able to find.
There, I met people who welcomed me with kindness, who taught me things I never learned in the business world. And yet... I betrayed them. I made selfish decisions. As punishment, the farm rejected me. The path leading to it vanished, and the map that once guided me turned blank.
From that day on, I was never able to return.
When I met you, Haruki, I began to understand the mistakes I made in my youth. I knew I had to make things right, but the farm was no longer within my reach. I spent years searching for it, to no avail.
All I found was a single clue: a key.
That key is inside the envelope you're holding. I know this all probably sounds like the ramblings of an old man, but believe me... you'll understand soon enough.
The Spring Enchantment Farm is more than just a place. It's a test—a destination that reveals itself only to those who are worthy.
I can't tell you everything. There are things you must discover on your own.
But there's something you can do to begin your journey.
Among the farm's documents I left you is an address. It's a small property where two elderly caretakers live. In their home, you'll find a box. Inside it, there's a journal with fragments of what I learned at the farm—and a chest containing a few things that may help you.
But you must remember this:
Do not read the journal or open the chest until you reach the village of Uke Mochi.
If you truly want to know the truth, follow the path I've laid out for you. But please, Haruki… don't make the same mistakes I did.
Never forget your humility… and your kind heart.
—Hiroshi Kiryuu
By the time I finished reading, my hands were trembling slightly. I held the letter a moment longer, staring at my grandfather's handwriting—firm, yet worn. His penmanship had always been so neat, but now I could see a faint shakiness in the strokes, as if his body had already started to give out.
His words echoed in my mind.
"I couldn't leave you a fortune stained by greed…"
"Don't read the journal or open the chest until you reach the village of Uke Mochi…"
"The Spring Enchantment Farm is more than just a place. It's a test…"
What the hell was all of this supposed to mean?
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed, frustration washing over me. Since walking into that room and hearing the reading of the will, it had been one unpleasant surprise after another. But this... this felt different.
My grandfather wasn't the type to speak in riddles. He had always been direct—straight to the point. And yet in this letter, it was like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.
I glanced back at the envelope and noticed something else inside.
I reached in carefully and pulled it out.
It was a key.
Nothing particularly special—cold, dark metal, slightly worn, with an old-fashioned design.
"...What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" I muttered, turning it over in my hand.
My eyes fell back on the letter.
"I spent years searching, to no avail. All I found was a single clue: a key."
It was absurd. And yet… a small part of me felt like my grandfather had written this letter with absolute certainty. As if he truly believed this key would lead me to the place he spoke of.
The Spring Enchantment Farm.
A special place? A destination only a few can find?
If it hadn't come from him, I would've thought someone was trying to mess with me.
But this… this wasn't a joke.
I returned to the living room and laid both the letter and the key on the table. Then, I collapsed onto the sofa and closed my eyes, letting exhaustion wash over me.
My grandfather had just died. My family despised me more than ever. And now… I held a riddle in my hands that felt like it was pulled straight out of a fantasy story.
I was drained.
But somewhere deep inside me…
…something was beginning to shift.
Maybe—just maybe—
This was the first time in a long while that I didn't know what to expect from the future.
And strangely enough, that uncertainty made my heart beat with something I hadn't felt in ages.
Hope.