The Decagon House Murders

I know Man will never become a god. And precisely because he understood that he did not want to leave the final judgement to a human to make. It didn't matter where the bottle ended up. He just wanted to pose the question to the sea- the source of all life- whether, ultimately, he was right or not.

It was not the plot that was vital, but the framework. A framework in which it was always possible to make the best choice, depending on the circumstances at the time.

The sea at night. A time of peace.

In my opinion, mystery fiction is, at its core, a kind of intellectual puzzle. An exciting game of reasoning in the form of a novel. A game between the reader and the great detective, or the reader and the author. Nothing more or less than that.

No moonlight came in from the skylight.

The waves washing the cliffs at his feet also washed his mind. Every time a fragment of memory appeared, the waves immediately took it away.

I think that staving off boredom is a good thing. It's much more healthy than allowing your imagination to wither because of a much too hectic life

Cứ coi thế giới này như một bàn cờ, mỗi người là một quân cờ, thì ta cũng chỉ đoán biết được vài nước đi nhất định. Cho nên, dẫu cân nhắc hết nhẽ thì bằng cách nào đó, sai lầm vẫn có thể xảy ra vào chính thời gian, địa điểm ta không ngờ nhất. Trên đời này có quá nhiều sự ngẫu nhiên, nhân tâm lại dễ thay nên âm mưu quỷ quyệt nhất cũng khó lòng thành công chính xác như dự liệu.

Even I'm afraid to die.

The sea at dusk. A time of peace.

She didn't care how the others looked at her any more. All she had on her mind was what she could see in the mirror.

But the face she had just washed, looking back at her in the mirror... It wasn't beautiful. Not a hint of dignity. Nothing to save her.

No sense of reality.

Yes. I sometimes feel like that when I read the stories you write for the club magazine. You're always so lively and bright in your own stories.' 'Because that's a made-up world.' Orczy turned away from Agatha's gaze and smiled awkwardly. 'I'm not so good with reality. I'm not really very keen on my real self.

Nevertheless, the conventional approach would never have satisfied his emotions. Emotions? No, nothing as shallow as that. Absolutely not. This was not just some powerful feeling within him. It was the cry of his soul, his last tie to life, his reason for living.

He had been suffering for months. He had been brooding for weeks. He had been thinking about just one thing for days. And now his mind was focusing on one single, clearly defined goal.

Morisu, on the other hand, could feel passionate about things in a different way from Kawaminami, yet it was rare to see that side of him in his everyday life. He was the type who kept his thoughts to himself, thinking everything over until he was satisfied before taking any action. To Kawaminami, his friend Morisu was a wise advisor, who would stop him from making rash assumptions or jumping to wrong conclusions.

Kawaminami was always bursting with curiosity and energy. If something sparked his interest, he couldn’t stay still. But he was also quite aware that his own abundant curiosity could often prevent him from considering situations deeply enough. He also knew that, while his enthusiasm could flare up in a flash, he could also lose interest just as fast.

He had stayed out all night playing mah-jong at a friend’s place and come home with a drowsy mind,