---

---

"But I think Natane-san goes out shopping at the supermarket and such."
With the focus shifted to her, Natane-san flinched, her shoulders jumping. "Um, well, I..."
"'Alright, fine. Let's say we add Tane to the list of suspects too. So how does that clear *you* lot of suspicion?'"
"...Do I really have to answer that?" I tried to express my reluctance with utmost sincerity.
At which point, the greasy middle-aged man crowed triumphantly, "So you *can* answer it, then?"
*Seriously?* I looked over and saw even Fushimi seemed somewhat dumbfounded, forcibly overwhelmed by the sheer illogic of Kouzou-san's reasoning. I suddenly felt the urge to just blast him with insults in stereo.
"You think we knew there was a handgun in the safe?" "'Yes,'" Kouzou-san affirmed. *He actually affirmed it?* "That we'd figured out the combination too?" "'Yes.'" "'How? Apparently, this mansion hasn't had guests in six years.'" "'Then it's simple. Keiko was killed some other way.'" *Stop smirking like you think that's the perfect answer, it's indecent.* "'Then how do you explain the gunshot and the missing bullet from the handgun?'" "'The sound could have been a blank, or something recorded beforehand! And the bullet? No problem if you removed it earlier!'" "'Then what about the conspicuous scrape marks on the iron bars? Since there are no bullet holes in the mansion's inner walls, that's evidence pointing to an inside job. Are you saying the person doing the cleaning didn't notice them? That they were negligent in their duties?'" *Natane-san keeps getting dragged into this and disparaged, doesn't she?* "'We can't say for sure she noticed.'" "'Look...'" Damn, I'm so hungry my head's starting to spin. I can't compete with his volume. With the number of people in this mansion dwindling, we might be shifting into a world where the loudest voice gets the right to speak. "'How do you explain Takahiro-san's body?'" "'That tone and changing the subject—does that mean you admit to killing Keiko?'" "'Admit it? I'd first like you to instruct me on the method itself.'" "'So, in the end, it seems you can't say you *didn't* do it.' Hah hah," he looked down on me, pleased with himself. *'...It seems impossible to convince an obstinate, self-assured person like you,' so I'll just put that on hold. I concede the point for now.* "'So, how do you explain Takahiro-san? Fushimi and I went into the room, and it was locked behind us. And Takahiro-san himself witnessed that.'" "'Hmph. You've been claiming that since before. It's the lifeline of your alibi.'" "'Hah.'" "'If Yuna... were your accomplice, your entire alibi collapses.'"
『 』 Silence from both me and Yuna.
*Suspects and accomplices multiplying like biscuits tapped out of a tin, hey.* Yuna was facing the wall, her expression hidden, but her shoulders were twitching. It seemed that even she couldn't maintain complete indifference when faced with the 'naked emperor' trying to pin a false accusation—one invisible to fools—onto others.

"'That outfit she's wearing—the fact that men and women share yukata here—that's more than enough evidence too.'"
"'No, no.' I couldn't help wanting to refute that with a straight face. It was such shoddy, foul-smelling reasoning.
"'Besides, if someone from the house was the accomplice, that also explains the safe situation. Anyone who's lived in this house for years could have figured out the combination.'"
"'...Hmm.' That much was certainly true. The handgun *had* been used, and it *had* been stolen. And it seemed the safe's combination was indeed practically public knowledge within the household.
*Still, Kouzou-san... you seem utterly convinced a family member is the culprit, more so than the possibility of an unknown third party hiding somewhere. Those pitch-black family bonds must run deep, like threads stretching from the gut.*
"'In the first place, your reason for visiting this house was unclear from the start! Saying you were 'looking for something'... spouting such nonsense, how could anyone trust you?'" he bitterly criticized his wife's guests.
"'Ah... I've already found it, you know. Sorry to have worried you.'"
*With that, maybe I couldn't leave with my chest puffed out, but I could at least hold my nose high.*
"'Don't try to blow smoke with worthless jokes! In the end, you can't deny the possibility I just raised, can you?'"
Kouzou-san, elated by hallucinations of victory, pressed me with a composed air. *He didn't mention motive at all, I noted. Not that I had the spirit to elaborate on the discussion anyway.*
*Meanwhile, I was so hungry I felt like I'd eat weeds if it meant staving off the hunger pangs long enough to prepare for a long argument. The gnawing hunger felt like a more immediate terror than the murderer, nesting as it was right inside me.*
"'...Alright then, I'll offer a rebuttal. Earlier, you yourself proudly declared that no one in this house has outside acquaintances, using that to deny your own family's potential involvement... But if Yuna-san is my accomplice, wouldn't that make her an acquaintance?'"
I tried using his own premise to stick a blade into his haphazard collection of theories.
Kouzou-san's composure instantly evaporated, and the grease on his nose seemed to intensify.
"'In that case—that's it! Yuna must have proposed it to you *after* you arrived at the house!'"
Kouzou-san sputtered, growling protectively over his pet theory.
*Well done, Yuna,* I thought. *You've finally ascended to the rank of mastermind. Quite the promotion... or maybe a fall into the abyss?*
"'If that's the case, then there's no one arranged outside to help with the supposed escape, is there—'"
"'It was a suicide pact! Total annihilation!'"
『 』 Debate over. I'm quite content to concede defeat.
*Amazing,* I thought, deeply impressed. I just don't possess the power to convince myself that lies are truth. If I did, there's no calculating how much happier my world would be.
"'Let's go,'" I prompted Fushimi with a jut of my chin and stood up. Fushimi, apparently having reached the critical point of absurdity and indignation after being accused based on such wild theories, showed no hesitation in defying the adult. Moving with the stiff precision of a model student straight out of the handbook, she propelled herself forward in a straight line.

Still, the curved motion of her chest was a kind of art in itself. Though maybe 'art' isn't the right word.
"'Wait! If you're the culprit, then I must take the proper measures—'"
"'If you genuinely believe I'm the murderer, then please don't interfere anymore. It's for both our sakes.'"
How utterly unpleasant this dining room was for one's stomach. I wouldn't have been surprised if the water I'd been drinking had shards of glass mixed in.

"'However, I won't tolerate being locked in our room, so I *will* resist that.'"
I stated that much clearly beforehand, trying to project some intimidation. Without doing so, we were just a couple of utterly ordinary high school students, unarmed and with no martial arts training. Honestly, even one-on-one with Kouzou-san, it was doubtful whether I'd even have fifty-fifty odds of winning. Fushimi, I figured, would lose every time. 'Pafu pafu' doesn't exactly cut it in a real fight, you know. In a serious confrontation, she'd likely just get beaten to death without putting up a struggle.
As Yuna passed by, she murmured quietly, "Good work."
"Thanks for the trouble of defending me, too."
"No, no. You're the one with the tough job, being appointed mastermind and all."
We could both manage wry smiles without it feeling unnatural.
And so, as sunset arrived on the fourth day, I began to make my move.
Fushimi, now effectively my roommate, followed hypersensitively behind me.
"Where are you going?"
"I was thinking of going to check Touka's room."
"Mm... We all looked this morning, though."
"To be precise, it's more like retrieving anything noteworthy."
*Rummaging through a girl's room without permission feels a bit off, though.*
*Ah well, it doesn't matter.*
*In my estimation, Touka's already dead anyway.*
Though she tilted her head as if unconvinced, Fushimi accompanied me, perhaps to ensure I kept my promise.
The two of us strode heavily down the excessively lit corridor.
Along the way, on the second floor, we ran into Mr. and Mrs. Saka.
"Oh, hellooo..." It was a subdued greeting. She looked constricted, as if wearing a tight collar.
As for her husband, he just hunched his shoulders looking creeped out, lips pressed tightly together. Like a turtle.
"Ah... um, excuse us."
*Natane-san, handling the greetings in place of the pathetic Kiyoshi-san.* Just like that, they scurried away, avoiding eye contact. It was then I noticed how terribly haggard Natane-san looked. The dark circles under her eyes were awful, almost on par with Fushimi's.
"Good grief..."
Isolated in this mansion with no help... it felt like we were shipwrecked and now adrift at sea besides.
Fushimi looked up at me, her eyes anxious like a puppy born in a tiger's den, and tried to encourage me, "It's okay."
Her fists clenched into tight balls, like someone gripping the drawstrings of a pouch.

"I'm okay too, you know."
*I gave a noncommittal, meaningless verbal reply.*
*If I have no allies, I can just be optimistic that I won't be betrayed.*
*The enemy will just honestly, straightforwardly try to strike us down.*
Touka's room. Contrary to her name ('Peach Blossom'), it was painted in dark colors.
Naturally, Touka wasn't anywhere inside.
I'd considered Akane might be here, but there wasn't even a trace of her.
There wasn't anything significant in the room, but there *was* something small, so I borrowed it.
*Is this the third one now?*
『 Thief? 』 Fushimi accused me via her notebook regarding my actions.
"'Nope, just recycling,'" I declared triumphantly, telling a bald-faced lie.
With this, my objective was accomplished.
"Right then..."
*There's no need to let the case run wild anymore.*
*Because replenishing my Mayu levels requires escaping this mansion alive as a prerequisite.*
*Explaining it will be a pain, but maybe it's about time I pinned down the culprit.*

---

**Chapter 3: In the Dark - *Night of Spreading Murderous Intent***

*(Akane's Perspective)*

I hate this house.
The inside of the house is small, and the food tastes bad.
Touka's room is far away, and the bed is hard.
Dad and Natane are strict, and Big Bro Yuna and Mom say I'm a bad kid and put me down.
I hate everyone in my family.
Especially Touka. My little brother. I hate him so, so much.
But it's the opposite.
Thinking about it this way, I hate almost everything.

---

*(Narrator's Perspective)*

We left Touka's room, Fushimi and I flying the coop together. That's a lie, though.
"There wasn't really anything to do, and it wasn't interesting, right?"
Fushimi shook her head, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she smiled.
"Watching you makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, it's fun."
"...Am I some kind of drug to you?"
*My middle school homeroom teacher used to say the world feels lighter if you swallow about eight headache pills at once.*
『 Question 』
Fushimi made her notebook dance. "What is it?" I asked, looking at the contents, and my throat clicked.
After a few hesitant, breathy sounds, like filling her throat with helium, she managed to squeeze out the words.
"Schooool... trip... sou... venir." 『 Delicious? 』 『 ? 』
*Such a nostalgic topic. That was from the previous volume, wasn't it? A different chapter of life, basically.*
"'It was sweet. Thanks for the treat.'" 『 Delicious? 』 『 ?! 』
"Whoa." It felt like my head was being shaken back and forth. Isn't "sweet" a synonym for "delicious"?
And now I was being forced to give my opinion on the taste. Me, someone who lives by words—so much so that I exercise my freedom of speech to the point where I practically vacuum up people's antipathy—naturally, when faced with such coercion, I meekly complied like a good cog in the societal machine. "It... wass... delicious." All lies, of course.
『 Case closed, 』 Fushimi noted, releasing me, looking satisfied.
『 From now 』 『 What do? 』 『 ? 』
"Let's see... Maybe I'll try playing the role of the unexpected detective."

As we reached the landing of the second-floor stairs, just as I was psyching myself up to play the detective role— "Huh?"
Suddenly, shadows enveloped everything. My sight was reduced to the futile act of staring into utter darkness.
"A blackout?"
My whole body felt slick with tension, like being caught in a sudden shower.

And then, the faint sound of something running towards me, footsteps muffled by the carpet.
At first, I thought Fushimi had jumped on me, like in a haunted house.
But the impact came swinging down from above my head.
"Ngh!" Red, not sparks, scattered in the darkness. Someone had seriously clocked me on the back of the head with something.
Without a moment's pause, another blow slammed into the nape of my neck. My legs buckled, and I collapsed face-first onto the carpet. My mind was still functional, despite the interference from the obtrusive pain, but my body, with its pathetic specs, was unable to recover.

*Damn, muffling footsteps with carpet... what a nasty design this house has.*
Fushimi cried out, sensing something was wrong, but I was already gone from where she was reaching blindly. The sounds of repeated blows continued. After the first hit, they stopped aiming for my head, instead striking my back and shoulder blades. Then they kicked me over onto my back and went for my abdomen. *I wish they'd make up their mind whether they want to kill me or not.* *Seriously, Fushimi, run! The correct way to use me is as a decoy! C'mon, run! This is the most useful I've ever been to another person in my entire life! Let me have this moment! Don't just stand there frozen like a wilting flower! Make a swift exit while the curtain's down!*
The attacker's assault seemed to be entering its final stage. *Right, right, take too long and you'll be the one in danger,* I thought.
Someone crouched down, their ragged breathing close by. They grabbed my left arm and yelled something incomprehensible—『 &〝%%-(一)訳&郎! 』 Ignoring my struggles, they snapped my arm, using the elbow as a fulcrum. The sound of shattering bone reverberated through my eardrums, distinct even amidst my own agony. Pain shot through me, rooting itself from my toes to my forehead and behind my ears, and I dry-heaved empty stomach acid onto the carpet.
And then, perhaps satisfied or simply knowing when to withdraw, the assailant retreated at full speed—I could hear their footsteps fading on the carpet. *How gentlemanly of them not to harm anyone other than their intended target.*
My mind was still clinging to the green zone of consciousness, but my body finally gave out.
*Fainting. Recovery... didn't seem likely.*
*Looking pathetic in front of Fushimi... if she told everyone in class, the student council...* Right before my consciousness shattered, the first thing I worried about was... whether I'd still be in the same class as Mayu when we became third-years.

---

**Afterword**

The first fan letter I ever received arrived, and I got carried away thinking, "My time has come!" I imagined that "Eventually, everyone will respect and revere me, I'll become Prime Minister or something, and my bromide photos will sell like crazy, especially among high school girls." Then I realized this book is mainly selling to middle and high schoolers, an age group that probably wouldn't get that kind of joke, which made me feel slightly depressed about my own age.
Greetings, I'm a working adult who completely skipped the job-hunting process while still in school. Thanks to all of you who have become readers, it seems our battle has yet to begin. I'm truly grateful.
Anyway, this time marks the first continuation. It's a long saga. But no soulmates or anything like that show up. If anything, it's full of people who seem like their large intestines might be acting up. How terrible, mainly for their intestines.
Actually, I'm running out of material for the afterword, so the person writing this is also experiencing abdominal pain.

To think that I'm now struggling with the very act of "writing an afterword," something I once longed for... I've become quite spoiled, haven't I?
Once again, I owe a great debt to my two editors for their help in every direction. It's still unclear how many volumes this will run, or rather, I have a feeling I'll continue to be indebted to them afterward, but please continue to bear with me.
Also, to Hidari-sama, who's in charge of illustrations—or rather, it feels more like *I'm* the one in charge of adding short stories to *your* illustrations. We don't have many opportunities to meet, so please allow me to express my gratitude here. Thank you always.
The best thing about becoming an author? Getting to see the rough sketches first.
Also, to the proofreader, who I feel I owe way too much to somehow. And to my father, who recently started saying inexplicable things like, "You became an author thanks to my guidance, eh?", and my mother, my deepest thanks.
And, though it always ends up last, my gratitude to the readers is endless.
Thank you for reading (I hope).
Hitoma Iruma

---

**Hitoma Iruma**

(No bio provided in source, just name)

**Hidari**

At the time of writing this, I am still 2X years old. By the time this reaches many people's eyes, I will be 2X years old. I don't smirk thinking, "Ah, I'm aging steadily." Nor do I lament, "Ah, my brain cells are dying." But sometimes, I do think, "Ah, I'm alive."
A Gemini living in Yokohama City. A freelance illustrator mainly working on card games, magazine pinups, etc. I live a life like a hermit, out of touch with trends.

---

**Lying Mii-kun and Broken Maa-chan 4**
*The Crimson Pillar is Desire*