The Unbreakable Obsidian

“This stone,” Leonard began explaining, “is the hardest object in the world—harder even than a diamond. Its exact composition is unknown; experts are still studying it. Without a doubt, it’s the most difficult item I’ve ever obtained. Earlier this year, I—”

Suddenly, every light went out, including the one over the gem. The entire room plunged into darkness, save for a faint red emergency light glowing dimly from a corner on the far side. At the same time, a sharp alarm began to blare.
“What happened?” Gerard shouted, raising his voice over the noise.
“Don’t worry, it must just be the circuit breakers,” Leonard assured, heading toward another room. Meanwhile, the guests stumbled about in confusion, unnerved by the sudden loss of light.

After about thirty seconds, the lights returned. Leonard reappeared from a side door near the entrance, wearing a carefree smile as the guests sighed in relief.
“Um,” Rosa said suddenly, pointing at the case. “Where is it?”

Indeed—the case now stood empty. The obsidian had vanished.

The guests stared at the void inside the glass box, horrified. Then they looked at each other, each with the same question in mind: how could the stone have disappeared so quickly? And, above all—who had stolen it?
“My precious obsidian!” Leonard cried, nearly falling to his knees in despair.
“It’s gone,” said Gerard, touching the glass as if the jewel had been his. “But this case is locked, isn’t it?”
“Of course! But I don’t have the key with me—it must be somewhere in my office, back there,” Leonard replied, distraught, his face wet with sincere tears.
“How could it vanish so suddenly?” Gerard exclaimed.
“It’s impossible it just evaporated. It must have been stolen—someone figured out a way to steal the Unbreakable Obsidian!”
“Who did it?” Gerard demanded, glaring suspiciously at each guest. “Who took the stone? One of you must have it!”
He suddenly reached for Rosa’s purse, but she pulled it back, offended.
“And who’s to say it wasn’t you?” she shot back.

As the two quarreled, Leonard wept on the floor, inconsolable. Mitsu watched the scene nervously, while Pinn, slightly apart from the group, smiled—pleased that this evening was turning out to be quite entertaining after all.

The detective surveyed the room, hands over his mouth in thought, his eyes hopping from clue to clue like a hare in a field. Suddenly, he fixed his gaze on Mitsu. The young man’s tanned skin paled.
“You’re from Indonesia, aren’t you?” the detective asked.
“What? What are you saying?” Mitsu stammered, sweat forming on his brow as his glasses slid down his nose. “You saying that because of how I look? Plenty of people look like me in other countries too.”
“Not because of your looks,” Pinn said calmly. “You could’ve been born anywhere, with that face. But your shirt’s too big—and behind the collar, I can see the tag, where you once wrote your name. It’s written in Javanese—the language of the island of Java. Too much of a coincidence. And your reaction just confirmed my hypothesis.”
Mitsu looked at him, annoyed but trembling with nerves.
“So what? That means nothing.”

The detective turned to the glass case where the stone had been. He crouched and examined the platform beneath: a metallic, perforated base, almost like a sieve, with a narrow slit through the middle, as if made of two separate pieces. Looking closer, he noticed a faint shimmer in the tiny gaps of the platform.

Then, like a spark lighting in his mind, something clicked. He smiled faintly and nodded slowly. The others, curious about his silence, gathered around him.
“What’s going on?” Rosa asked, voicing everyone’s curiosity.
The detective straightened up and looked at them decisively.
“I’ve got it. I know who made this jewel disappear—and why.”

Detective Pinn arrived at the exhibition his friend, Mr. Xuno, had so passionately recommended. His insistence had been so great that he had even gifted Pinn a ticket.

Detective Pinn arrived at the exhibition his friend, Mr. Xuno, had so passionately recommended. His insistence had been so great that he had even gifted Pinn a ticket.
“You must see it, Pinn,” he had told him with the kind of enthusiasm that, despite his 57 years, gave him the liveliness of a teenager. “It’s a very exclusive exhibition of antiques.”

Pinn wasn’t particularly fond of antiques—he tended to be more interested in what was new: new technology, new art. But that Friday afternoon he had nothing better to do, as was often the case in his life, so he decided to attend the exhibition.

The event was held in a remodeled restaurant: a large hall with a carpet that drew a giant square over the tiles, surrounding a set of glass cases placed in the center. Along the walls, pressed against them, were the rest—each displaying the most peculiar objects: an ancient armor that had once belonged to a famous knight, a compass from a sailor who had circled the globe, a bag carried by the queen of a nation that had ceased to exist thousands of years ago...

As soon as Pinn arrived, dressed neatly in a modest blazer, the host came to greet him. His name was Leonard Nunnik, a bald man of about sixty—three with a well—combed mustache.
“Welcome, Pinn. Mr. Xuno told me you’d be coming.”

After a brief conversation, Pinn strolled through the room, greeting the other three guests:
Rosa Ricard, a woman around forty, with short black hair and a scarlet dress that brushed her heels;
Mitsu, a thin young man of about twenty—eight, wearing an oversized blue shirt and constantly adjusting his glasses out of nerves; and Gerard Villablanca, a man in his early forties, half—bearded, half—gelled, with a strong, confident, and carefree demeanor.

“Dear guests, please, gather around,” Leonard called out, clapping from the center of the room, just beneath a large painting of Zeus and Ganymede resting half—naked.
“Always at your command, Mr. Nunnik,” Rosa replied with a graceful gesture.
“I’d like to first thank Mr. Villablanca for his generous financial contribution—without him, this exhibition would not have been possible.
"Gerard gave a modest bow.
“Glad to pay the bills, Nunnik. I can see you spared no expense—these display cases must be made of fine glass.”

“And without further delay, the time has come to present the crown jewel, the star of the night. An antique brought to me by a distant friend from Southeast Asia—an object of incalculable value. And I mean that literally, as I have two experts still trying to determine how much it might be worth.”

Leonard chuckled. The guests laughed as well—except for Pinn, who watched them all with mild amusement, and Mitsu, who kept adjusting his glasses anxiously, his eyes darting about.
“I present to you,” Leonard proclaimed, “the Unbreakable Obsidian.”

As if by magic, the lights dimmed—except for those illuminating a central glass case. Inside it lay a jewel the size of a handball, black and gleaming so brightly it was almost hard to look at. It sat perfectly centered, nestled in a small hollow atop a metallic platform.
“It’s beautiful,” Rosa said, once she approached the case.
“Incredible,” murmured Mitsu softly, without much enthusiasm.

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