The storm was raging outside, the rain pounding the windows and the wind shaking the wooden shutters.
The temperature had already dropped a bit in the room we were in, but it wasn't the weather that made us shiver so much, or even the darkness.
I already knew that this business trip was not going to be easy. Having to get up at 5 a.m. to board the little white van that would take us to our destination was already out of the ordinary for me, and thus, of my area of comfort.
It was also the first time since middle school and high school that I was going to embark on the closest thing to a group trip. However, I knew how to distinguish between this juvenile experience and the task at hand: it was about work, not about having fun visiting some tourist spot or other.
Yet even simply working was going to be difficult, with such a storm raging outside.
A flash of lightning momentarily illuminated the garden outside, like a giant camera flash; momentarily drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. The circuit breaker had not yet been reset, and I could tell by the restlessness of some of the people that they were beginning to lose their patience.
The security lights and the extra lamps probably didn't reassure them enough anymore, and I understood them.
Being stuck in the middle of nowhere, having to endure the whims of the weather could do that to you.
However, what had everyone in the room shaking was not the cold and damp, nor the thunder rumbling outside.
What had petrified, as if caught in a trance, everyone present was none other than a voice.
I wondered how the detective would have reacted in such a situation.
Perhaps she would have laughed loudly, or tried to lighten the mood with a dubious joke.
Or maybe she would have just smiled, confident and unfazed.
I almost forgot that this expression was reserved for moments when she was absolutely sure of herself, and already knew more about the situation than anyone else.
Unfortunately, there was no such luck.
The detective wasn't here, either to reassure or to panic the people around her. There was only Mr. Nakatsuki, the people of the production team, the employee serving as our helper, and myself. We were all uncomfortable and didn't know how to react to the situation we were in.
"Yazawa-san, are you okay?" Asked the employee of the boarding house we were in; walkie-talkie in hand.
We all listened anxiously to the conversation, waiting for the man at the other end of the communication to give any sign of life.
Seconds passed, and still no answer.
What could have possibly interrupted him so abruptly in his words?
One moment he was talking to us, and the next moment there was total silence.
Because of this, a feeling of discomfort - apprehension, even - had come over everyone.
Even I, who demonstrated a certain emotional distance from what was happening before my eyes, felt a nervous lump in my stomach.
Something was wrong.
"We should go and meet him," Mr. Nakatsuki suddenly suggested. "Maybe the old man had a bad fall, in this darkness."
"Y...Yes, probably," the young employee conceded anxiously, still with the silent walkie-talkie in hand.
The camera crew remained indifferent, probably because its members felt little concern for the fate of the person we had no news of.
Nevertheless, this passive attitude was exactly what spurred our little trio into action.
Taking one of the lamps on the wooden counter of the kitchen facing the room, Mr. Nakatsuki was about to open the door to the corridor and the stairs, when a loud crackling sound resounded.
Stopped dead in our tracks as we followed my supervisor, the young employee and I stared at the walkie-talkie, before quickly coming to our senses.
"Yazawa-san? Can you hear me?!" Exclaimed the young woman, worried.
There was another crackle, and then a voice was heard.
"I... I can see him..." Mr. Yazawa was heard to say in a trembling and terrified voice. "He... He's looking at me..."
His frightened voice froze the blood of anyone sensible enough to understand that things had just gotten terribly complicated.
Who was he talking about in such a confused way? And why did he seem so stunned by what he was seeing that he lost his voice?
Mr. Nakatsuki seemed to be just as confused as the other people listening to the conversation, for he frowned in incomprehension.
We both stared at each other, silently asking ourselves if we were thinking about the same thing or not.
There was no such thing as ghosts... Was there?
"Listen Yazawa-san, we are coming to meet you, okay?" Hastened to say the young employee.
But again, no answer; only a long sizzle from the device's speaker.
It was all just a bunch of tall tales.
"Yazawa-san?" She called to him doubtfully.
However, if Mr. Nakatsuki was convinced, I was not.
An insidious doubt had settled in my mind.
What if it was real?
After all, I had already seen things that could prove to me otherwise..... That the supernatural did exist in this world.
And as if to hammer this disturbing fact into my mind, the old man's voice was heard again.
"He's looking at me..." He rasped with palpable distress in his words; a voice hoarse with tears addressing us. "Hanging in mid-air..."
Distraught, the young employee pushed Mr. Nakatsuki to the side and hurriedly opened the door to the hallway.
And suddenly, before she had the time to take another step, a great crash was heard above our heads; making all the occupants of the big living room jump with fear.
It was as if a piece of furniture, or some other heavy object, had been violently pushed onto the floor.
Here, I had to say that even my calm and imperturbable nature had taken a big blow, because immediately, I threw an alert glance to Mr. Nakatsuki; who reciprocated by nodding his head.
Under the panicked eyes of the camera crew, the three of us dashed down the hallway and towards the stairs leading to the floors with an unpleasant feeling twisting our stomachs.
Something had happened.
But what exactly?
What would we find up there?
Climbing the stairs four by four, we came across this young man - what was his name again? - coming out of his room with a dazed look on his face.
"What's all the fuss?" He managed to say, still half asleep, before we ran past him.
There was no time to lose with this guy whose hair was still in a mess and who looked haggard.
And already, we arrived in front of the door of Mr. Yazawa's room, and we rushed inside without thinking for a second; Mr. Nakatsuki in front of me, lamp in hand, and the young woman just behind me.
As soon as I stepped into the room, I hit a wall, or rather, the back of my supervisor, who had stopped dead in his tracks.
It was at this point, when I saw the form lying on the floor in front of us, that I understood the extent of what had happened.
It was at this point that I came to genuinely regret that the detective wasn't here with us.