---

---

Just as I returned, Imaike opened his lips, looking displeased.
"Man, this kinda takes the fun out of it, huh."

Imaike slumped in his seat and stretched out his legs. Squinting sideways at Yuka’s corpse, he muttered a mix of complaints and grumbles.

"Guessing the killer... even from an objective standpoint, it's just a three-choice question. And since we're involved, it's down to two choices for each of us. Aaah, we really should've planned this out better before starting."

Imaike lamented the failure in running the game, sighing dramatically. Being so blatant about it must make even Yuka feel awkward.

But perhaps sensing the mood, his expression immediately softened, and he glanced towards me and Erina, trying to read our faces.

"Then again, listen to me talkin'... maybe *I'm* the killer, huh?"

"True. It's a classic trope for the goofy character to have a sudden change of heart, after all."

"Ah, and then there's the possibility of Shirota, too. Maybe he's hiding somewhere, picking us off one by one... But man, that wasn't the kind of game any of us four wanted."

"Mhm, mhm. Mystery is definitely better than horror, isn't it?"

I kept my end of the conversation purely superficial while internally considering what to do next. ... Hmm... I hadn't really anticipated an additional dead body, you know.

And the remaining two show no sign of crisis awareness, no sense of, "I might be next." It's less about knowing when to pull out and more that not getting involved from the start would have been best. ... Life is such a hassle, isn't it?

At this rate, I might end up meeting the same fate as Touka someday.

"Anyway, we gotta do something about Yuka's stench. Smells fuckin' awful. It'll be bad if it starts leaking outside."

Despite the content, his tone was indifferent, as if it were all just a hassle. The smell. It certainly could leak and become the talk of the apartment complex. Or rather, in the first place, since Yuka can't go home anymore, will she just be treated as a missing person?

I wonder how Yuka's parents will take it. This being the second disappearance after Hisaya, the adults are liable to hold a meeting, aren't they? Let's hope it isn't blown up into a big deal yet, and they opt to wait and see for now.

If the police get involved, I'll put on my best troubled expression. Yes, truly.

"Or hey, Erina... damn, you're really absorbed in that, aren't you?"

Since a little while ago, Erina has been copying the body's composition onto the floor, as if determined not to let the sketching spirit still smoldering within Yuka's corpse go to waste. Curled up in a posture like a pill bug, she's diligently doing her drawing. What's little Erina drawing? Hmm, let's see... her frieeeend.

*She doesn’t move, so she’s super easy to draw, and her pose is unique, so it’s really fun to draaaw!*

Still, if she turns out to be the killer and this is all an act, she probably deserves some kind of award for it. Peeking at her drawing from the side revealed the surreal composition of a corpse-like doll lying next to a hermit crab.

"Alright, let's switch gears! A showdown between the detective and the killer! Yeah, it's gotta be a one-on-one duel!"

Imaike tried to drum up excitement all by himself.
Erina silently kept sketching, determined to finish her drawing alone.
And as for me, I put on the earphones from the music player I'd taken earlier and, despite fumbling awkwardly with the controls, managed to get the music playing.

The music started playing midway through... Could this be that Pachelbel piece they mentioned? Though the lyrics are in Japanese.
Checking the player's LCD screen, I saw a completely different song title displayed.
D... I... S... Heheh. I read my English textbook early this morning, so my alphabet skills are spot-on, you see.
But somehow, this song feels like a completely different genre of music from that Pachelbel piece... just my intuition, though.
Well, I suppose it has all sorts of songs on it, so she'd change them depending on her mood. She was human, after all.
And just as every person is "human," any sound is "music."
Everything here is completely perfect, wonderful music, you know.
The sounds of blows and blood, washed away by a rain of such beautiful notes, hmm?

Even when the extraordinary intrudes in patches like this, everyday life goes on.
For example, even if someone is struggling and suffering right before your eyes, about to breathe their last.
Somewhere else in the world, at this very same moment, there are people peacefully living out days utterly untouched by death.

When I recognize things like that anew, I find myself feeling helplessly serene, though I still haven't figured out exactly why. Because I feel so serene, it's as if everything else around me just retreats, you see.

***

Sometime before noon, after the three of us concluded our fruitless meeting, I’d come to the nearby supermarket to shop. I've decided to do my bulk shopping on Mondays and Thursdays. Incidentally, today I spotted the aforementioned Mayuko walking around inside the store. And also, some man was sort of clinging to Mayuko's vicinity. Let's see... he was the sort of man whose refreshing aura suggested he could stuff river pebbles up his nose, generate them internally, and radiate blown glass from his eyes. To put it more simply, a pretty boy. That's him in a nutshell. Hmm, he's dragging his right foot slightly. With a gentle smile—like muddy water, *et cetera*—he kept talking to Mayuko the whole time, only to be completely ignored. It seemed like quite the unusual relationship, in the opposite sense; she was treating him as less than air. Oh well, none of my business.

I only intrude upon Mayuko's private life at night, after all.

Right, let's get shopping.
If possible, I want to avoid coming to the supermarket every day. That's why I decided on twice a week, buying everything at once.

"Big Bro, this one, this one!"
The reason for this is, yes, attributable to Akane insisting on coming along every time.
"Yes, yes, only one snack," I corrected my previous impression; this girl is like a kindergartener, isn't she?

In these four months, she's completely learned the taste of snacks from the outside world. Back when we lived at the mansion, Natane, who handled the shopping, hated these kinds of sweets, so we rarely got to eat them.

"Big Bro, Big Bro!" This time, the summons came with a sharp tug on my sleeve.
"Yes, yes, Big Bro is here~ what is it~?" The stares from the housewives are painful, so I just lean into it. If you open an umbrella on a rainy day, the umbrella itself gets wet, you know.
"There's a festival! Look, look, a flyer-flyer!" She pointed at the wall like a child who'd just spotted the candy aisle.
"Hmm," I responded, aiming for an indifference drier than tofu.
"Ooh, exciting!" She bit anyway, unfazed. They say having no dislikes is, in a bad way, having no principles.
"Unfortunately, the Oracle inside me isn't feeling the excitement."
"Umm, August seventeenth. That's really soon."
"That day is no good, *zamasu*. Cram school, *zamasu*."
"*Phweeew! Kabooom-splish-splash-psshhht!!*" "*BANG!*" I silenced her.

Hmm, she's grown into a child who doesn't listen to people. I've seen enough of her parents' faces, but it seems she strongly inherited the Ooe family blood from Mother's side. Well, if an image of Father were to appear, it would surely rank as this year's greatest tragedy. Better than being this century's, I suppose.

"We just don't have that kind of money to spare," I told her honestly.
"No!?" Akane pleaded, looking up at me while gnawing nervously on her thumb.
"Ugh... okay, fine. We won't buy snacks from now on, and we'll save up money." I pulled the snack bag back from her.

Troubles just keep piling up, don't they? Phew... Following the spike in vegetable prices, this is my second sigh today. Feels like I'm being pressured into buying things as items get tossed into the shopping basket one after another. Looks like I have no choice but to go, now.

***

## Chapter 3: LIE AGAIN

*They told me my older sister's piano doesn't play music.*
*That's absolutely right,* I affirmed, resting my fingers on the keys.
*I am enjoying the sounds; I have no desire to receive someone else's music.*
*When I said that, Touka innocently told me I was hopeless, rejecting my music.*
*Then, with clumsy fingers, she began to play "Sakura Sakura."*
*"Mommy taught me," Touka smiled innocently beside me.*
*Oh, so very proudly.*
*Without even confirming which 'Mommy' she meant.*
*"Amazing," I said, patting my little sister's head. And that was that.*

***

The most luxurious way to live is, namely, to live honestly.
Apparently, adults teach children 'You must not tell lies,' but I think that only tells half the story. Incidentally, in most situations in the world, 'half right' has only the value of being wrong. Yes, truly. Even if you manage to block a two-handed slap down to just the right hand, it still hurts.

To be precise, adults should teach 'Don't tell lies that don't benefit you,' or perhaps 'Lie in a way that doesn't hurt the other person, in a way they won't notice.'
Demanding a life so difficult as never telling a lie is simply cruel.
Telling someone you dislike that you dislike them, straight to their face.
Telling someone you like that you like them, straight to their face.
Certainly, a life richer in spirit than this is impossible.

And yet, that way of life itself could never possibly hold true.

"Wouldn't you agree?"
"Precisely. To possess such polished insight at your young age is impressive. I am deeply moved."
"I am pleased you agree. By the way, you are... um, Ms. Crisis, was it?"
"Oh my, are you suggesting a word association game? Fufufu, I'm from the Magical Banana generation, you know, so I won't fall behind. If you say yellow, I say curry."
"Unfortunately, our television used to display *Yokodori Yonjuuman*. Therefore, currently under wrongful arrest... ah, I remember now. Detective Jeikomu, what business might you have with me?"
"I have no planned business. Meeting by chance while walking down the street... what a sweet-sounding phrase, wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed. However, by speaking, you have disturbed the ripples of that sound, mutter mutter."
"Please pardon me. Since the start of the new term, I've been assigned the duty of worrying about Sanae Rika's well-being, so I inadvertently displayed my usual diligence to my duties. Habits are frightening things, aren't they?"
"My, my, thank you for your hard work treating me like an unwanted child, even more concretely than a desk-warming employee."
"Perhaps we could have lunch together, partly as a light report on your living situation? Of course, as a working adult, this Kamiyashiro will treat. Meat, conveyor belt sushi, whatever your request, I shall fulfill it and take you there."
"Hmph, you seem to overestimate me considerably. Curry alone is enough to make me kneel."
"Feel free to order toppings as well."
"Is takeout acceptable too? There is a Malaysian dancer at home, starving and craving the curry of her Beverly Hills homeland."
"That is utterly incomprehensible, but provisionally, yes, it is acceptable."

Hop, hop, I climbed into the back seat of the Jeikomu car.
And that was the beginning of a rather long lunch break on August sixteenth.

***

It's spicy! For a moment, all the sugar in my body nearly concentrated on my tongue—just kidding, though.
Swallowing with a nonchalant expression that burned my throat, I feigned composure and reached for my glass. Then, sensing that my acting was reaching its limit, I swiftly brought the glass to my lips and gulped down the water.

"Oh my, are you not fond of spicy food?" the person sharing the table shrewdly interjected.
"*Cough-gargle-hoo-hoo hoo-hoo gargle-gargle*," I replied energetically with bubbles. Did you hear that?
"...It's just like a game of Concentration, isn't it? Sanae Rika and that girl."
"*Hoo-hoo-hoo-gargle gargle, gargle-gargle gargle*," Who could that be? I'm *trying* to say I'm Hirabari Sumi, but I'm confident it's absolutely not getting through. How futile.

Facing me, the plain-clothed detective nonchalantly lifted spoonfuls to her mouth, her expression unfazed by the heat and spice.
What is with that outfit, horizontal stripes top and bottom? It's clothing that looks like it would suit handcuffs in a different sense, I almost let slip when I first saw her. Well, actually, I think I said it directly. Her smile didn't falter, though.

I had wandered outside to buy something for lunch when I was captured by J. Natsuki on her day off. Led by the chill in my wallet, I ended up accompanying her here to save on lunch money.

Oh well, such trivialities are as irrelevant as the bamboo leaf in a bento box. The problem is this steaming substance before me. Apparently, there's a discrepancy between how the world perceives this yellow liquid and how I do. Good grief. Natane's curry was quite mild, thankfully. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't believe anyone in that family consumed spicy food. Were they a clan of sweet-tooths? No wonder they were all generally plump, *et cetera*. Yet Akane seemed to consume the widest variety of things, but she's always remained thin.

"Ufufu, shall I blow on it to cool it down and feed it to you?"
"If Ms. Jeikomu's breath contains sweetening agents, then by all means, please do."
I replied with a smile like a crayfish shell, even as my toes curled in humiliation.

Acts like defiantly refusing are strictly forbidden. Because I don't have any money on me.

I don't have the habit of carrying a wallet when I go outside, so I am seriously penniless. If a gunfight were to suddenly break out in the restaurant and the detective before me were to unfortunately meet her end—saying "Alright!" beforehand, naturally—I'd need to take advantage of the chaos to dine and dash, or resign myself to the classic payment method of washing dishes.

Aaargh...! I want money... ! Gradually, the sugar-coating on the joke is wearing thin.

"Is everything alright with your living situation? Honestly, it's so unclear what kind of household you spend your days in that even determining the direction of my concern is quite a struggle."
Already starting on her second plate, 'You should worry about your own stomach' Jason Natsuki inquired about my life. If I honestly reported 'Code Red,' I wonder if I might receive some small assistance. But with this person, that's too dangerous. If I were forcibly deported, I'd be in trouble.
Much more than I am now, in every way.

"Everything is proceeding smoothly. My life is abundant enough to eat shrimp tempura every day, you know."
"While I wish to express my admiration for that strictly horizontal sense of luxury, unfortunately, due to my profession, Big Sis here does not appreciate lies. Rika-chan." Oh dear, she's finally started addressing me intimately. *I'm Rika-chan, right here in front of you.* No need to report the obvious. Are you underestimating my eyesight, miss? Goodness gracious... Right, how should I respond?

"Fufufu, did you see right through me? To deduce that such a diet couldn't possibly maintain this nice body... you seem to have sharp eyes yourself."
For the sake of appearing casual, I scooped some curry with my spoon and brought it to my mouth... *Mmph*. Let's see, if one bite is this much, calculating the remainder... about thirty more bites, I suppose? I could become a fire-breathing monster, couldn't I?

Meanwhile, Jefferson Natsuki, eating with gusto as if she might shoot beams from her mouth, paused her hand and pushed her plate to the side of the table. Then, leaning forward, her hand reached out and touched my cheek with a touch so gentle it seemed afraid to break something. Her nail caught slightly, making my skin crawl with a chill.

"You look considerably more worn out than before. To a degree where it's doubtful you're even eating three meals a day."
"It's because I have a vegetable-centric diet..."
For the first time, I was forced to look directly into Jennifer Natsuki's serious expression and eyes.
*Are you really in your thirties?* I allowed myself the unserious thought.

In contrast to the bright, rough clamor of the surroundings, the air just around our table grew cold. Even though we were in a nicely air-conditioned room, this was unwelcome. If my body temperature dropped too, I'd feel cheated out of the price. Despite not paying myself, I decided to feel indignant somehow, adjusting my mood so it wouldn't tilt entirely towards seriousness. You mustn't choose the wrong person to show weakness to, for the sake of self-preservation.

"Listen well, Rika-chan." "Hirabari Sumi." "Whose name is that?" The name of someone who used to be a high school girl in the neighborhood. "Mine, of course. My star sign is Aquarius, by the way."

*Gggh,* Jessica Natsuki's fingertips dug into my cheek. The lines on her brow tightened, looking like something was about to burst.
For an instant, her anger carried a palpable sense of danger. She pulled her hand back, straightened her posture, and muttered in a low voice.

"I imagine there are very few people who would help you, aren't there?"
"Oh my. If I keep choosing only the negative options, I'll be appointed the 'friendless' character."
"I pray that neither of us regrets parting ways with you after finishing our meal here."
"Yes, quite," I already regret my choice of meal, though.

With an expression that seemed less displeased and more sulky, General Natsuki moved her spoon at high speed. By provoking even someone who might have become an ally if handled well, what do I stand to gain?
My inability to adapt to society might be even worse than *His*.
Which means I'll probably have a short life too, right? Just kidding, though.

I'm sure I'll end up regretting my approach to relationships and life terribly from now on. ...Even so.
Today, once again, my world prevented the intrusion of foreign matter.

***

Inviting Gelato Natsuki all the way to my current apartment building—or rather, I didn't want her to know where I lived.
So I opted to part ways in the curry restaurant's parking lot. Without resorting to curt and frankly irritating refusals like 'No,' I smoothly said, "Well then, let's meet again sometime in this town," maintaining a smile like a fox mask, having seemingly recovered her good mood on the surface, before departing.

Left behind amidst the clashing heat and concrete, in the smell of industry, were the set of chicken curry packed for takeout in my hand. And two hard-boiled eggs. They smell faintly of sulfur.

On the verge of being swallowed by weariness, I opened my parasol. Creating a localized patch of dark clouds against the sun, I lessened the downpour of sunlight. Right, I feel rather tired, but shall I head back?
Returning to the apartment, feeding Nishi... then going out again for a bit... what should I do? My brain right now is refusing even to think about what needs to be done. Being objectively told I'm at my limit somehow makes me lose motivation, doesn't it? Besides, my stomach is full, so fatigue and sleepiness mingle with a bitter taste, leaving me halfway there. If possible, I'd like to go back into the restaurant and take a nap right about now.

I scanned the scenery around me, vaguely recalled the way back, and then began to move slowly.
Walking along a dreamlike path, passing children heading to the elementary school pool. My consciousness wouldn't settle, and I couldn't grasp the distance back to the apartment. My frontal lobe felt terribly heavy, making me naturally look down.
Perhaps because the home I should be returning to is piled high with problems, I seem to be feeling quite reluctant. And more than anything, I couldn't hide my self-loathing at having discovered a footprint of regret less than five minutes after parting ways, wondering if I should have asked that Gemini Natsuki for help after all.

Mother was cruel, too. I wish she had provided better aftercare once her use for me was over.
In the end, is there no choice but to work and support myself and Nishi? But who would hire a woman like me? Speaking of which, that was dangerous just now. I was crossing the road normally despite the red light. If I'd been hit, the eggs would have been crushed, the curry would have become a mix of blood and spices, and both would have been ruined. On top of that, I would have had to either buy lunch all over again or search for James Natsuki under this blazing sun, leading me to suffer from lack of funds or heatstroke—though exsanguination is the most likely cause of death—just a string of bad things. Maybe I should at least pay attention to my surroundings when crossing on a red light. Yes, that's truly wrong of me.

Right, what was I thinking about...? Ah, escaping the impoverished nobility, wasn't it? But perhaps because there was a time when I had only learned one way to earn money, I find myself hesitating. Ah, this is troubling. Right now, even if there were someone swinging a kitchen knife in the middle of the road, I feel like I'd refuse the option of taking a detour. Is the thing that brings resolution to everything really suicide?

Just as I was being escorted into such a hazy daydream like that—
Suddenly, someone hit on me with a flashy voice.
A shock like my eyeballs were being pulled directly sideways. My shoulders jumped slightly at the way I was addressed, in a manner that transcended language.
I tilted my parasol, exposing my face to my surroundings, and confirmed the source of the voice. "...Ah, so this is where you lived."
Apparently, His Dogginess didn't miss me as I happened to pass by Kaneko-kun's house by chance. Jirou was yapping away, tail wagging furiously. Complete with his summer beach dance routine.

However, the leash restricted his movement, preventing him from rushing to my feet. Mimicking Mayuko, I glanced around furtively to confirm no one else was nearby, then trespassed onto someone else's property without permission. I approached Jirou and crouched down. He then placed his front paws on my knees.
"Oh my, thank you for requesting me again today." I placed my bags on the ground, far enough away that errors couldn't reach them, and then picked Jirou up. Feeling like his leash was stretched taut, I moved forward a little more. *You're so cold to restrained humans, yet full of compassion for dogs, aren't you?* I felt like I received such commentary from imaginary viewers and real people alike, but isn't that a compliment?
It means I can cherish other living beings without friendship or romantic love being involved.
Besides, this little one seems to like me for me. Isn't an relationship that doesn't require knowing one's background wonderful? Having just endured lunch with someone who knows me, I expect this to be a balm for my nerves.

I extended my index finger into the trajectory of his tail, which continued to trace semicircles. As the soft tip of his tail tickled the second knuckle of my finger, my cheeks couldn't help but start to form a smile like a water balloon inflated with lukewarm water.
Perhaps noticing something touching his tail, his round eyes became restless. He spun around in my arms, trying to check behind him, but couldn't find anything.
Well, I certainly found some healing, though. Yes, far too truly. Animal therapy is not to be underestimated.
Though I don't trust aromatherapy. Because Natane was fond of that sort of thing.

When I held him close to my chest, he kicked his legs frantically, searching for a stable center of gravity before stopping.
Bathed in the purple light filtering through the parasol I still held, Jirou was dyed my color. Perhaps finding it strange, his gaze wandered restlessly between looking up at the parasol and looking at me.
It's a bit hot to keep holding him in the summer, but the feel of this fur is something I wouldn't mind through all four seasons.

"...Mofu-o." I tried to psychometrically determine his real name. Furthermore, I discovered his predecessor, Tarou-kun, was Fuka-o. And even Kaneko-kun's first name was revealed under the light of day... Ugh, my brain cells just got scorched. I wonder if Mofu-o likes hard-boiled eggs? I don't even have the knowledge of whether it's okay to feed them to him in the first place. Onions were strictly forbidden, I think. Well, he might be practicing the secret to health of three meals a day, so perhaps I should refrain from offering snacks and stick to petting him fluffy-fluffy.

While stroking his thin body and fur with my fingers, I turned my head to inspect the house.
Short weeds grew uniformly in the front yard, conveying the feeling of dry earth being chewed between molars. Though no noteworthy trees were visible, the sound of cicadas was incessant, making me feel enveloped by summer.