The iron door groaned shut behind the jailer, plunging the cell into a deeper gloom. Here, amidst the echoing silence, Mr. Yukioshi, a condemned man, feverishly scribbled the final pages of his book. The publisher arrived, a man in a brown suit, his face a grim harbinger.

"Mr. Yukioshi," he said, his voice flat, "have you finished? You will be executed this afternoon."

Yukioshi, his voice raspy, replied, "You will have it before that. I'm almost finished."

Golden rays of the afternoon sun painted the sky as Yukioshi was led to his fate. But before the end, he met the publisher once more, handing over the manuscript. "Before you publish this," he rasped, "make sure Ms. Rafa Jennifer reads it first. I ask nothing else."

The publisher, a silent promise in his eyes, whispered, "I will, Mr. Yukioshi."

That evening, he stood before the 'Madarashi residence.' A sad, middle-aged woman, Ms. Rafa Jennifer, answered his knock. "I have come with the book," he announced, "as Mr. Yukioshi requested. He wished for you to read it first."

Her voice was a mournful sigh. "A diary of Yuki's?"

"No," the publisher corrected, "it's more. It's about his and his brother's eventful life."

"Oh," she murmured, her eyes distant, "a book about the devils."

"He said you would find all your answers here," the publisher offered.

"Thank you," she said, taking the book. "I suppose I'll learn more about my dead husband from these pages than I ever did when he was alive."

As the publisher departed, Rafa Jennifer settled into a rocking chair, the book in her hands. "Guess a legendary journey of a devil is about to be revealed by my hands," she whispered to herself. "Should I be happy about that, I don't know anymore…"

Inside that book…