Very young to have a suite in a high-class apartment building in Shinjuku and unnaturally young to be such a well-connected information dealer. He didn’t look much older than twenty. His name was Izaya Orihara. I heard about him from the chef at the sushi place, but his name also turned up several times during my first round of surveys on the street from the more knowledgeable types. “My source is confidential,” I said, covering for the sushi chef. The slender young man put on an inscrutable smile, leaning back against the sofa. There was a shogi board on the table between the two of us. Interestingly enough, there were three kings on the board. “Claiming confidentiality to an information dealer… Fine, that’s your prerogative.” I began to describe the course my research had taken me, leaving out the sushi place. But to my surprise, he had apparently been reading my articles. “You write ‘Tokyo Disaster,’ don’t you? The column about odd events and the various groups active around Tokyo… If I recall correctly, the next issue will be having a big Ikebukuro special.”
What do You think about Durarara!!, Vol. 2 (novel)?
