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It was a simple enough action, but for my right hand right now, it was more like, “Aaargh!”
My index finger is dragging the other fingers down.
I feel like it can move, so I feel like it’s not broken! …See, it moves, doesn’t it? Though it’s making a crackling, snapping sound. The sensation of chewing on fish bone chips echoes from my fingertip to my molars, but I’ll ignore it with sheer willpower.
With fighting spirit, cold sweat, and my thumb, I press the phone's buttons and open the address book.
There were only two names in the address book.
Only the phone number of someone who seemed to be an editor was registered.
“…The client did say he’s a novelist because he has no social skills, but still.”
Just in case, I decided to check the camera’s image folder too. He might have photos with women stored and forgotten there.
First, what appeared when I opened it was a photo of a white cat. I swiped. Another cat photo. …The folder was full. All of them were pictures of cats. Photos of it sleeping, photos of it eating, photos of it on the bed, probably using Tachibana Eiji’s hand as a pillow… Are you planning to publish a cat photobook instead of a novel? Self-publish that crap.
I tossed the phone nearby and buried my face in the carpet. The fibers pricked at my wounds.
Exhausted, it felt like I wouldn’t be able to stand up for a while.
“Where’s the cat?” I grumbled, like it was a novel title. Honestly, if the owner has time to eat curry or play with Lego blocks, he should just lose some weight. Well, if that happened, I’d be out of business, though.
I felt a small, intimidating presence near my head. Could it be someone who was nearby earlier, worried about me, asking something like, “Are you okay?” When someone is kind to you, it’s proper human conduct to cast aside age restrictions and be genuinely grateful. Face down, I waited with anticipation.

A detective who fought a heinous criminal and came out of it with shared injuries (regardless of the ratio) being tended to by a girl (though they’re all of an age where calling them “girls” is a stretch)… that’s the kind of epilogue I’ve always dreamed of from reading novels.
Well, in my case, I got injured by getting caught up in a violent incident completely unrelated to my detective work, and I haven’t achieved that in my actual profession, though. ……So, still nothing? The other person hasn’t said a word.
However, the intimidating presence was still definitely there. A different kind of presence from my hat.
Having no choice, I lifted my face, and my eyes met with a white cat sitting in front of me.
・
Its tail was certainly long. Pure white, like a path of light.
It looked down on me lying there with a mean gaze, as if to say, “The hell’re you, nya? If your eyeline’s lower than mine, you should call me ‘Mr. Cat,’ not just ‘cat,’ dammit!” and was acting all high and mighty.
“Well, this is a very… singularly practical kind of care, isn’t it…” Reality is too cruel.
No, I’m certainly glad, though. Saves me the trouble of searching. The only problem is the complete lack of sentiment.
Did it come out because someone’s phone rang?
There’s a card key in its mouth. Whose room is it for?
Anyway, with a firm squeeze, I secured it so it couldn’t escape. Grabbed the scruff of its neck. Snatched the card key too, while I was at it.
The cat, contrary to the rough handling, didn’t resist and was diligently grooming itself in my hands.
Right, job complete with this… I guess?
“…Ah, right, about the client, yeah.” I should have checked if you were going to be his affair partner too.

Tanetorii Hibiki
(College Student)
4:10 PM
When Ultraman’s color timer goes off, I wonder just how much he panics.
In the first place, after the three minutes are up, can he transform again right away? I don’t know the details, but if it was something like, “You can’t unless you get eight hours of sleep,” he’d probably be driven by a desperate sense of, “This is seriously bad, isn’t it?” And since it goes off almost every time, wouldn’t he get stomach ulcers or something?
And so, I, who learned katakana before hiragana in my childhood because I wanted to read monster names, have lost the innocence of those days and now direct such cynical, unsolicited concerns towards heroes.
My and her current state of mind was exactly like that of a hero of justice tormented by the *beep-beep* sound.
Still in the darkness of the cart. Only sound, as if holding up a light, grew lively.
The sound of a cell phone ringing started to leak from her bag. The idiot calling at such an inopportune time couldn’t possibly realize the greater-than-expected repercussions they were causing on the other end of the receiver.
The cart, which had been pushed this far without anyone questioning our weight, finally stopped, as expected. Her fingers, once stretched thin like a flattened piece of land, hardened again, forming an improvised weapon in her right hand. I had started to completely believe her declaration of being a self-proclaimed martial artist. The phone was still ringing, but there was no way she could answer it.
The vibration of a hand leaving the cart. Then, the sense of someone moving around to the side. Well, it’s not really a problem if our forms are exposed to this person, probably the cleaning lady. It depends on how much mischief she’d tolerate, but she’d probably let us off with just being exasperated, thinking, “What are these people doing?” As long as my hot-blooded companion doesn’t swing her fist.
Hampered by the cramped situation, I still reached out to her and covered her clenched fist. She glared at me instantly with eyes that seemed to harbor murderous intent, then quickly looked away. And clicked her tongue again.
The cloth that had been protecting us was removed. Then, the darkness too. Faded light and the carpet, like a spread of brown leaves just before turning autumnal red, reflected us and the garbage bags, seeping in.
The cleaning staff member who peeked in, bending over, was so shocked she nearly collapsed. A “Hii!” scream was cut short by her ragged breathing, her eyeballs shaking wildly. She slammed her butt hard onto the carpet but seemed to have no leeway to even notice the pain. Well, yeah, if two people were crammed into a space not usually used for storing garbage bags, it would be beyond unconventional, wouldn’t it? I apologized, “Sorry, sorry,” as I crawled out first. I felt like I did when I escaped from one of those cardboard mazes at an elementary school festival, the kind you crawl through on all fours. Just before standing up, I made eye contact with the beautiful cleaning lady, so I bowed my head again, “I’m so sorry,” for my companion as well. As I bowed, I wondered where such a beautiful woman got her superhuman strength, a mismatched impression that made my throat feel heavy.
After me, my companion, seemingly displeased at not having a chance to throw a punch, got out of the cart and rummaged violently through her bag. She took out her still-glowing cell phone and muttered, “Who? This number…” It seemed to be an unregistered number. Though suspicious, she apparently decided to answer it.
“What were you doing in a place like that?” Rubbing her backside, the cleaning lady stood up. She put the cloth back on the cart, and the lady started to eye us suspiciously. Her fast, accusatory tone made me shrink. “Uh, ah, we were in the middle of hide-and-seek.”
Explaining the whole situation seemed like it would take up too much of the lady’s work time, so I tried to convey just the main points, summarized. University exams, on the other hand, are the opposite; you can get around sixty points just by writing a lot and filling up the answer space, so the weight of the words “adapt to the circumstances” really sinks in.
“Hide-and-seek, hmph?” Her tone, as if she might add “Shogun” to the end of her sentences, deepened her suspicion. Just as I was thinking of retorting in a hoarse voice, “Even grown adults play hide-and-seek, you know!” she yelled into the phone in the hallway, “Huh? You old geezer! Hey, what’s this number?!” It seemed the person on the phone was her father. Did he take a more efficient method than chasing her?
Still, the situation was starting to look like a crossed wire. The cleaning lady was fuming at me, and she was fuming at the person on the phone, “Don’t call me! And how do you even know my number? Who’d you hear it from? It makes me sad to think a stalker came from my own family!” Yeah, she’s fuming.
She’s also swinging her clenched fists around. Ah, the cleaning lady’s gaze, oozing with the perplexed thought, “What’s with these two?” is painful.
As if to add more congestion, I noticed the lady who had been in front of the elevator turning around with a competitive smirk and a smile. I wanted to deal with it later, but that wasn’t an option.
I unconsciously let out a surprised “Ah!” and then my tongue tied itself in knots. I wondered what to say next. “You’re, um, the detective’s…” Her name was unknown, so my words trailed off.
The cleaning lady narrowed her eyes with a “Huh?” showing incomprehension at the out-of-place word “detective.” The other lady replied in a light tone, “Long time no see, though it hasn’t been that long, has it?”
I tensed up since she was suspected of stealing the card key, but the lady approached me in an overly friendly manner.
“I was just looking for you. I was worried about where you’d gone.”
“No, you’re the one…” When did she move over to the elevator side?
“They were inside this cart,” the cleaning lady interjected. She seemed quite annoyed that her work tools were used for play.
“What, hide-and-seek?” she said, laughing at our actions with a joking line, then held out an ultramarine card key, “Here you go.” My heart pounded as I checked the number. It matched my room number, and my eyeballs took in the ceiling light as if to say “Congratulations on winning!” With a roulette of confusion spinning in my eyes, I took the card key, going with the flow.
“This…” I don’t have the courage to verbally ask if she came all this way to return something she stole. Even if a blue deer-like creature told me, “I’ll give you courage!” I’d probably refuse, saying, “My life is more important!”
“It was dropped in front of the elevator. I thought it was probably yours.”
“Huh, the el-elevator, ya think?” “Yup,” she affirmed with a nice smile. I see, I just dropped it, huh… “Regain your innocence,” I feel like that was in some song lyrics. I felt like a bipedal robot smitten with a cat toy had just patted me on the shoulder, saying, “It’s not good to doubt people.”
“Thank you very much.” In the end, I bowed. If things can be settled peacefully, that’s fine, isn’t it?
“No, no, you’re welcome.” The lady hummed something cheerfully as she headed towards the elevator and loitered in front of the door. “Every time I meet someone, I smile…” Ah, that’s the song that was playing on the radio earlier. By a singer named Nijou something.
Behind me, she was still yelling “Don’t mess with me! Don’t mess with me!” into the phone like some kind of spell or cheer. The cleaning lady muttered “What the heck…” in a low, venomous tone, then started pushing the cart again. When I said, “Sorry for the trouble,” she replied curtly, “Not at all.”
And just as the concentration of confusion in the air began to thin, this time an assassin against mundane daily life burst out of the elevator. No, rolled out.
The elevator doors opened, and just as the detective lady was about to enter, she stepped on something with a squish. When the lady looked down at her feet, there was a person lying there. Their features were off, so for a moment, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I understood when I saw what the man had grabbed. It was the man in the green hat.
Next, looking inside the elevator, the bellboy in that blue suit was looking down at Green Hat and laughing amusingly.
As soon as the lady finished stepping on him and removed her foot, Hat Man rolled and tumbled towards the carpet.
“Run! That guy’s a ◯◯◯i!” Hat Man started yelling towards the inside of the elevator. “Aren’t *you* the one who fits that description?” I, observing objectively, muttered inwardly, though it was none of my business. His right index finger is out of whack, too.
Even she, who was on the phone, was speechless and dumbfounded.
“Hey! It’s true! You might get killed!” It seemed he was warning the detective lady who had entered the elevator.
“Thank you for your warning,” the lady said with adult composure, silencing the yelling Green Hat. Green Hat seemed to give up on something and regretfully closed his mouth, but just as the doors began to close, he yelled out again.
“That man is also a pedophile and necrophile, a formidable fellow who passed the super-dreadnought pervert course, commonly known as the ‘Recycling Factory,’ with an albatross score! Be careful!”
A barrage of insults? Is that it? There were a few foreign words mixed in that were beyond my comprehension, but since the bellboy’s face changed color and he tried to retort, there’s no doubt it was something awful.
But the doors closed before he could retort. And Hat Man slumped, his shoulders and head succumbing to gravity as if he’d used up all his energy, even from an outsider’s perspective. His skin was strangely flushed; was he drunk at this hour? I thought about asking if he was okay, but that leeway evaporated immediately. The density of this moment… how much would I have to boil down my two years of college life to create it?
I feel like my life is reaching its climax, in various senses.
Her father, holding a pink phone to his ear, suddenly popped his head out from around the corner. She had her back to him, so I was the first one to make eye contact. Her father’s eyes went wide, and my vision became like a hazy moonlit night. “Awawawa,” the sounds emanating from both our mouths synchronized.
The vaguely cultivated scenario in my mind—where she, after my proposal, says, “I want to introduce you to my family,” leading to a solemn visit to her parents’ home, and the first meeting… that whole process of encountering my father-in-law was completely replaced by a sham. Both of us about to foam at the mouth in a hotel hallway—that’s what mature adult relationships are all about. The poignant part is that it’s not the foam of shared beer.
She noticed my crustacean-like demeanor and turned around. Discovering the other crab, she yelled, “Aah! Why are you sneaking up behind me, you damn old geezer! Are you a ninja or something?!”
“You’re one to talk! Did you walk along the window ledge to get here? That’s dangerous, you know! You could’ve died, you idiot!”
Neither of them had let go of their phones yet and were yelling into the mouthpieces.
No, that defeats the purpose of a phone. You’re plenty stereo without going through a device.

Shiina Kouji
4:05 PM
My qualities as a tengu are less than zero, but while I was being further pressed…
From inside the room, a glamorous (dead word?) beauty appeared, as if showing off her long legs. A woman with a valley and a caldera (Aso) on her body, intensely assertive. The woman I’d been with until just now was more suited for spreading out a picnic sheet… No, I should refrain from saying that.
“Excuse me.” An apology that clearly conveyed “I don’t feel that way at all” came from the woman’s mouth. I was about to complain about being hit by the door, but I’ve learned the hard way in society that saying such things to this type of unapologetic person only buys resentment, so I kept quiet about it. Was she in a hurry? She started to walk down the hallway without even looking at me. I spotted a card key dropped beneath the door, picked it up, and called out to the woman’s back.
“Wa-ouch, wait a sec.” Holding my aching nose, I stopped the woman.
“What is it?” The woman turned around with an annoyed look, as if she were about to sue me for sexual harassment.
“This, you just dropped it.”
“Thank you.” Seeing the card key, the woman’s eyes widened. She smiled faintly, her attitude softening.
She took it and immediately faced forward again. “Sorry to make you turn around twice,” I apologized mentally in advance, feeling slightly disappointed, “So this wasn’t the place, huh.” If a woman came out, it meant my daughter and her friend weren’t in this room. Right, there was one more thing I had to ask.
“Hey, this isn’t exactly in return for that, but I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it?” Whoa, she’s back to her prickly attitude again.
“Could you lend me your phone for a bit?” Even if I wanted to call Natsumi, I didn’t have my cell phone on me.
“Phone?” “I’ll return it right away.” The woman glanced at the phone she was clutching in her hand, then said, “You can have it,” and threw it at me. Caught off guard, I managed to block it with my face. Though I feel like that was a failure in itself. Enduring the doubled pain in my nose, I placed the pink phone, which absolutely didn’t suit me, in my palm.
“And you should probably help the people inside the room.”
“Huh? No, ‘have it’…? Hey, hey.” Cutting off her interaction with me, the woman left at a race-walker’s pace.
Checking the phone’s status, there was no “out of service” display, and it seemed usable. And, inside the room? Help them? I peeked into room “1784,” the door of which hadn’t completely closed because my foot was caught in it, and saw a person lying there, blindfolded, arms tied, and stuffing their toes into their mouth in the back. ……Some kind of kinky play?
“No way,” I shook my lecherous thoughts out of my head to restore normal function. Using the doorknob for support, I stood up and used the room’s lock to fix the door so it wouldn’t close. I was curious about that woman, but she was already about to disappear down the hallway, so I said, “Excuse me,” to the room and entered. “No one else is waiting to ambush me, right?” I thought, applying the lesson learned from being kicked down at noon, and didn’t let my guard down.
Without being attacked by anyone, I reached the middle-aged woman who was “savoring” her toes, tears leaking from under her blindfold. Another middle-aged person, probably her husband, whose toes were being bitten, also had his cheeks twitching in terror, on the verge of incontinence, struggling with muffled grunts against a gag. It felt like watching a local being attacked by a crocodile or a giant fish in a swamp.
“I must help them immediately,” my body, about to act on morality, paused. ……What kind of incident was this, robbery or extortion? Either way, it was entirely possible this middle-aged couple would involve the police; it would likely be an assault case. If I rescued the couple, they would undoubtedly reach for the phone. Would the policemen rush over? If so, I, who am not entirely without a shady past, would also be in trouble.
“Hmmmm…” But I couldn’t just abandon them like this. The hotel cleaning staff would probably find them tomorrow, but leaving them in such a street-performer-like state until then… well.
Anyway, I decided to rescue her from swallowing her toes. That seemed to be causing the most suffering. I grabbed the middle-aged wife’s crown and chin and tried to pull them out. But the moment I touched her, the middle-aged wife started thrashing wildly, “Nmofuuuhuhufu!” She seemed to mistake me for the woman from before. Combined with her build, it reminded me of a hippo’s cry at the zoo. “No, calm down. I’m someone else; I’m going to rescue you now.” When I declared my innocence, the middle-aged wife’s movements stopped for a moment, and then she trembled with joy. “Fumooooooh,” she was loud. The middle-aged husband also sobbed fakely, “Uobegegege,” like an old Famicom game password. No, I’m sorry to say this while you’re so overjoyed, but I’m not going to help you completely.
I put my fingers on the strangely pleasant-to-touch flesh of the middle-aged wife’s chin and pulled her cheek, “Heave-ho!” With a gush, scattering a large amount of accumulated saliva, the middle-aged woman’s forehead grasped freedom. I left the middle-aged wife crying, “Eeeeeee,” and next removed the husband’s gag. Saliva had soaked into it, and I had some resistance to touching it, but I, with a mountain of problems, had no time to hesitate.
Pinching the middle-aged husband’s ear, I spoke to him, somewhat unilaterally.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t remove this blindfold and the ties on your arms.”
“Wha, whaah? Why, no, who are you? Did we do something? Why do we have to be treated like this!”
“Don’t ask me…” Because those are my lines too. “For now, the woman who probably put you through this has left the room. After this, well, you’ll be fine.”
However, picking up a card key for a woman who commits such outrages against others, and essentially buying a phone from her… hadn’t I been unconsciously treading dangerous ground? It probably wasn’t as fraught with danger as outside that window, though. But inside the room too, well, there’s a woman with suicidal ideations in there.
“Don’t mess with me! Help us, quickly, contact the police!”
“No. You have plenty of time from now on, so please take your time to come to terms with it. Misfortune doesn’t declare war, you know.”
“Later,” I said briefly and left the room. I did feel a longing for the card key stuck next to the entrance, but I couldn’t borrow it. Every time I commit a sin, everyday life recedes further.
Out in the hallway, I looked at the phone, which had marks on its body as if scraped by claws. Could I really use this? That woman’s treatment of the middle-aged couple dominated the scales, preventing me from taking action.
My finger didn’t reach for the call button; as if to cover my idleness, I started operating the phone. Peeking at someone else’s phone, even with consent, this was a first. When I brought up the call history, I found out she’d been continuously calling the same person not just by the minute, but by the second, and I froze slightly. The contact was labeled “Master,” but that woman… her brain’s form really does seem to be aggressively constructed.
“…Uwah.” Other than this “Master,” not a single other person was registered in the address book. This is a cursed phone. That woman from earlier… she wasn’t some ghost who committed a double suicide in the hotel and is still haunting the room, was she?
It’s not chilling, but if this is the result I’ve obtained through my process and it’s in my hands, there’s no choice but to make effective use of it. I’ve memorized Natsumi’s cell phone number. How many times have I agonized over trying to call my daughter’s cell phone with a home phone that doesn’t even have an address book function?
Natsumi never told me her phone number. She got it after becoming a high school student, but at that time, she was in her prickly hedgehog-like rebellious phase, so she turned her back on me. Now she’s become as belligerent as a bear before hibernation; how long does that girl plan to continue her rebellious phase? Oops, I got sidetracked. Anyway, I, who was detested, had no choice but to find out Natsumi’s phone number through my wife.
Tap, tap, tap, I pressed the unfamiliar number buttons of someone else’s phone with my clumsy thumb. I put it to my ear and waited for Natsumi to answer. Would she pick up? It’s an unknown number, but she was always a curious kid.
While waiting, I thought of the middle-aged couple, probably trembling behind the closed door. My and my wife’s shadows overlapped there. Misfortune doesn’t declare war. I myself probably haven’t come to terms with that yet. Looking back at the process, I feel that the measure of my happiness was entirely held by my family.
Rather than what made it so, it was that time itself.
I feel like I hear a flashy electronic sound from far down the hallway. Young people’s cell phones these days, sometimes they have songs as ringtones, it’s hard to understand. The other day, a young employee told me you can watch TV and stuff on cell phones, but that’s probably a lie. They must have been trying to deceive this lost lamb—no, already mutton—old man to bring snickers to the workplace. When I told my wife that, she burst out laughing.
Time passed as I hallucinated my wife, not yet fully a memory, at the end of the hallway, and the call connected. “Yes………” Natsumi’s voice, reserved and tinged with suspicion. But her tone, to a family member, was “Uwah, she’s acting.” Her voice was like cream cheese, though usually it’s fizzy.
“Ah, it’s me. It’s me, I am me.” It became a topic for a while, and I’d always wanted to try it once. I wouldn’t have the guts to do it on a work call.
“Huh? You old geezer! Hey, what’s this number!” On the other end of the phone, Natsumi instantly guessed my identity and switched to a prickly, bubbly voice. Or rather, her voice sounds almost like stereo playback… Is she still nearby?
“No, this is, uh, a public cell phone.” No way. That defeats the purpose of a cell phone.
“Are you an idiot! What, did you steal a phone? And calling now, how stupid can this old man be! Read the room!”
“I don’t know your situation… but this phone, well, I got it from a woman.” Walking down the hallway, I honestly explained how I obtained it.
“So tell a better lie! What’s with this phone anyway!”
“Ah, well, I was thinking we could talk a bit.”
“Don’t call me! And how do you even know my number? Who’d you hear it from? It makes me sad to think a stalker came from my own family!”
In her way of speaking, I could see influences from an anime Natsumi used to like, and my cheeks loosened inappropriately.
And, shamefully, my tear ducts too. The past, the more distance you put from it, the more it blurs with happiness.
“What are you laughing at, you damn old geezer? Don’t screw with me! Don’t screw with me! I’m hanging up!”
I feel like she could just hang up without announcing it. If I pointed it out, she definitely would, so I won’t touch on that.
“I’m not laughing. I was just about to cry.”
“Huh? …Huh?” Natsumi’s bravado faltered, and she was stopped in her tracks. “Now’s the time to speak,” I read the moment.
“Let’s talk. I want to, it’s been a while.”
I tried to make my tone sincere… though perhaps the fact I was trying meant it wasn’t genuine, but I conveyed my request as seriously as possible. Natsumi completely lost her momentum, and the sound of her grinding her teeth reached me.
“There are various things I need to tell you too.”
“……Like, ‘I divorced Mom and remarried that woman from earlier’?”
“That was, well, a strange fate, or a chance encounter… anyone would have done.”
“What, are you that desperate for a young woman? Ah, I’m glad I got out early!”
“Don’t let the misunderstanding progress! I’ll talk now, and if I do, it will surely be a silver bullet!”
“I mean, hey, stop.”
“Huh?” Regardless of Natsumi’s words, I also paused.