The clown returned to the room and declared, “Let’s go see the seven treasure rooms. You’re in for a treat!”
Leading the way, the clown gave them a tour of the Devil’s museum complex. The fruits of the Devil’s thievery adorned seven underground rooms. Timepieces large and small were arrayed about the clock room like a watch store. The big watchtower clock occupied one corner. Smack dab in the middle of the room, impossible to miss, glittering on a luxurious black velvet stand, sat the Royal Luminous Watch, the same one that’d been stolen from Tezuka-san’s warehouse.
In the Buddha room, Buddhist statues, all tall enough to force the gaze upwards, stood like displays in a history museum. The fine art room was lined with classical Japanese masterpieces and famous paintings from the Western tradition. There was a gemstone room, a textile room, a lacquerware room. Yoshio couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer number of stolen objects. The Devil could rightly boast of its “art museum.”
However much he was impressed, at the same time, Yoshio felt a sense of scorn growing in his heart. Here was a true villain among villains, who ought to be locked away as soon as possible. He vowed to himself, Just you wait. No matter what, I will get out of here, notify Akechi Sensei and the police, arrest the Devil, and return these prized possessions to their rightful owners.
“Heh, heh, heh. Well, what do you think? The Devil’s art museum is quite the wonder of the world. Well, once we’re done with the tour, it’ll be time to meet the Devil himself. A first for you, eh, Kobayashi-kun? Feeling a bit nervous, are we? Nothing to worry about. The Devil’s not going to eat you.”
The clown got to his feet and wound his way down the stone tunnels until they reached a dark room deeper in. The room was a little over a dozen by a dozen feet in size. Black velvet curtains covered the walls. A strangely shaped lamp hung from the ceiling. The room was significantly darker than the rooms Yoshio had seen so far.
When Yoshio and the Tezuka kids entered the room, the curtain directly in front of them began to sway back and forth. The Bronze Devil abruptly emerged from a part in the curtains, raising that same fearful noise, the whirring and grinding of gears, shouting indecipherable words in a loud voice.
“Let me translate,” the clown said.
Listen well, Yoshio Kobayashi. You have caused me a good amount of grief. But my powers far exceed those of ordinary men. I might have fallen to my death from that smokestack, but here I am alive again! I am not about to be captured by this Akechi Sensei of yours. Do you understand? Now your punishment is to spend the rest of your life locked away underground. From this day forth, you will no longer be Akechi’s disciple but mine. Delightful news, don’t you think? What, sad that you can no longer share his company? Hah! Worry not. I will arrange a reunion soon enough. I have every intention of making him a prisoner of the Devil’s Kingdom and turning him into one of the bronze people. Then you can see him every day! Hah!
At that moment, the clown closed his mouth. The Devil ceased making its mechanical sounds. Waving its arms wide in menacing motions, it stepped back behind the curtains. Yoshio thought to respond but couldn’t freely move his mouth (the chin piece that was removed so he could eat during dinner had been reattached). No sooner did the thought to respond occur to him but the Devil disappeared from view, so he didn’t have time to pose a question anyway.
For the next week, Yoshio and the Little Devils continued to live their strange subterranean life.
They didn’t know if there was only one Bronze Devil or two or three or more. Aside from the meeting in the black velvet room, they hadn’t gotten close to another Bronze Devil. Now and then, they spotted one from a distance, walking down the tunnels or entering and leaving one of the stone rooms. They all looked the same so there was no way to tell how many of them there were. When the children asked the clown, he only laughed and refused to answer them directly.
Nothing particularly bad happened to Yoshio and the Tezuka kids. They weren’t shut up in their rooms all day long. They were occasionally pressed into carting various items around, helping with the cooking and the like. Hardly difficult chores. The heavier burden was not knowing when they would ever escape this underground prison.
The iron door at the end of the stone tunnels was always locked. That door surely led to the surface, but however they pushed and pulled, it would not budge an inch.
One time when Yoshio was inspecting the door, a voice called out behind him, “Heh, heh, heh. You don’t want to go through there. You’d be dead in an instant. Hell is waiting for you with its mouth wide open. I’m telling you this for your own good. Don’t even think of opening that door.”
The clown came up behind him and cackled. At the time, Yoshio only thought the clown was threatening him. Later he would come to understand that those words were anything but a mere threat. Waiting outside that door was indeed an abyss that would make his hair stand on end.