Chapter 8
The Last Game

Under the luminous veil of the moon, the husband and the maidservant found a quiet spot along the riverbank, a peaceful place far from the busy lanes of Kyōto. There, apart from the world, they were about to plunge into the mysteries of the ōgi set that had so consumed Yuki.

The maidservant opened the wooden box with care, revealing the pieces neatly arranged inside. Each of them seemed to carry within it a part of the enigma surrounding Yuki's curse. The husband watched, a mixture of fascination and apprehension in his eyes.

Every night, I watched Lady Yuki play, the maidservant began, her low voice mingling with the murmur of the river. She was absorbed, as if every move were dictated by an invisible force. Delicately, she began to set out the pieces on a makeshift board she had traced in the ground.

With each piece she placed, the maidservant described the corresponding move, her explanations revealing a deep understanding of the game. Lady Yuki always began here, then moved this piece there, she would say, showing the moves on the board. The husband, absorbed, followed every gesture, every strategy described, trying to understand what it was in this game that could have captured Yuki's mind.

As the sequence progressed, a pattern began to emerge, a series of moves repeated invariably, as if Yuki were trapped in an endless cycle. And here is the final position, the maidservant announced, indicating the arrangement of the pieces. That is how the games always ended.

Her voice, distant and melodious, seemed to float in the air, carried by the night wind. The master of the house felt an insidious weariness come over him, his eyelids growing heavy, his mind clouding. He closed his eyes, surrendering for a moment to this sudden fatigue.

The last thing he remembered before sinking into unconsciousness was the blurred face of the maidservant and her voice receding into the night, mingled with the raindrops that were beginning to fall softly. The drops spattered on the ground, accompanying the distant melody of the maidservant, who was humming a nursery rhyme.

With astonishing calm, she carefully put the pieces back in the box. She cast a last look at the master's lifeless body, her expression unfathomable, before moving off into the shadows of the night, leaving behind her the unsolved mystery of the ōgiban.

The rain was falling harder now, washing the streets of Kyōto of their secrets, while Komayō disappeared, her silhouette melting into the night landscape, carrying with her the echoes of an ancient curse.