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Without taking my hand off the cell phone, I left my throbbing left hand where it was and pulled my body back sharply.
What the hell is this? Is it some kind of cell phone, one foot planted firmly in sci-fi, capable of receiving complaint radio waves from our polluted Earth? “Eco, Eko, Ko”—I can’t even tell if it’s a first or last name, but there’s no doubt it’s a persistent, almost obsessive way of calling. The call history cuts off around three o’clock, so it seems someone turned off the power around that time. Meaning either the user of this room, or a complete third party, entered the room back then and handled the phone. Did they not find the body then, or did they leave it because they were involved?
Because I was neglecting my actual job of cat-searching to fight and struggle with some weird guy, I have absolutely no grasp on this case that was unfolding at the end of the hallway. It's unclear who on the seventeenth floor was even involved.
“The only thing I know is who this phone belongs to, huh?”
Should I try calling this “Eco” person? Before that, I close my eyes and prepare the scales.
On one side, I place the cell phone. Is this dangerous? Or will my curiosity on the other side win out?
*Remember you broke your index finger by sticking your nose in too far,* my self-control insists. Curiosity’s rebuttal was the words of the man who lured me into this profession.
“...That’s just how it is, isn’t it?”
*If your sense of justice outweighs your curiosity, don’t be a detective.*
The detective principle掲げた by the second Hanasaki Tarou still seems to be alive in my chest.
Well, that guy says it frequently, even over the phone. It’s not like he’s dead or anything.
Redial, then. A pink phone, though. It kind of makes me think of a woman. Is this the phone of the woman in the wallpaper image? No, don’t get caught up in stereotypes—just as I argued against common sense, the call connected.
“H-hello? Yes, hello.”
The first voice was a childlike response delivered in a gruff old man’s tone. The person on the other end sounded bewildered, but I was just as confused. It’s not like I can just ask him to put a girl on the phone, can I? But what part of this voice is “Eco”?
“Hello. You’re Ms. Eco, right?”
“Huh? Ah, uh, I guess so?”
“Please don’t send my suspicion meter skyrocketing right off the bat. When you use a voice like that, it makes my curiosity tingle, and that’s a problem.”
“Then, are you her husband?”
“Huh? I’m unmarried, you know.” Unless the law is changed, I can’t legally take a bride. Though I’ve played ‘playing house with a bride’ countless times. Ah, every single one is a blissful memory.
“But that’s the name that came up for the incoming call.”
“Then what, am I your husband?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m devoted to my wife!”
“If that day ever came for me, I’d jump out this window. Rest assured.”
I tried imitating the tone of an acquaintance in the police force. There’s this female detective I met on a business trip to a rural town a while back, the kind you’d doubt was the real deal at first glance. She always talks like this over the phone; she has a peculiar personality, and we don’t get along. Our tastes in appearances are completely different too.
“Don’t talk about jumping today. I don’t want to think about what’s outside the window until it’s something I can laugh about.”
“Oh? A suicide wannabe or something?”
“That’s someone else. I don’t want to die, so I’m alive and answering the phone right now.”
“Is that so? Well, judging by your reaction, you’re not Ms. Eco, are you?”
“Right, I’m not. Not at all. Ah, I wonder if it was *that woman*… Say, where’d she go?”
“Then why do you have that cell phone?”
“Well, this phone, I think it was a gift from her.”
“A gift, huh? Not something you picked up?”
“I understand your suspicion, but she really said she’d throw it at me and give it to me. I’m in a bind here too.”
“So you did have contact, then?”
With a person connected by a faint thread leading from the corpse.
“And you? You don’t seem to be Ms. Eco’s husband, so why do you have that phone?”
“It’s a long story, and it’d put me in a tight spot, so can I skip it?”
“You’re pretty blunt, aren’t you? Not that I mind, but my own position is in a gray area too.”
“I imagine so. Well then, uh, who am I speaking to?”
“Huh, me? Sh- no, Shi-shi, Shima, right, Taneshima Higaki. Call me whatever you like.”
“Alright, Mr. Taneshima, where did you meet the person who threw that phone at you? Near your house or something?”
“...Are you police or something? Stop prying into my personal information.”
“You say that, but it’s my job. Ah, I’m a detective, you see.”
“A detective? Suddenly sounds real shady.”
“I’d rather not hear that from you.”
“I dunno. Met her at a hotel, got my nose smashed in, and that was it.”
“A hotel?”
I instinctively scanned the entire room. No, couldn’t be.
“I see, at a hotel…”
“She was a beautiful woman. Though, well… yeah, doesn’t seem like we could be friends.”
“Does that mean you’re completely beneath her notice?”
Continuing the conversation, I approached the window. Glancing around the room, I remembered the corpse in the bathroom and felt the urge to air the place out. Come to think of it, I didn’t notice any smell of decay from that body, so it doesn’t seem like weeks have passed since death.
I opened the window and peered outside. In front was a mouse-gray building, and below, a path that looked like the hotel’s back alley— “Ah.” My hat, caught by a crosswind, came off… “Ah!” I instinctively reached out to grab it. The tip of my middle finger pushed the brim of the hat, spurring its departure. Drifting on the air currents, the hat danced between the buildings. If I hadn’t been wearing gloves, my fingertips might have been a bit more agile, and I might have caught it.
“Ah… I’ll have to go pick it up later.”
When I’m not wearing it, I fall under the strange illusion that my body’s center of gravity is off. Hat dependency syndrome?
“…Huh? Hey, did something happen?”
“No, my hat just flew out the window.” It’s not like I dropped it carelessly.
“Hat? Uh… green?”
“Yes… Huh? Are you psychic?”
“No, it just went swoosh past my window…”
“…”
“Excuse me, could you stick your head out your room window for a second?”
“Uh, okay.”
I stuck my head out the window and waited for a moment.
Then, from a window about four or five rooms away, an old guy with a pink phone pressed to his ear popped his head out.
We stared at each other.
It was kind of embarrassing.
We tried waving “Yoo-hoo” at each other.
Immediately after, the old guy’s face turned strikingly pale as he noticed something about me.

**Tanetorii Hibiki**
(University Student)
4:45 PM

Her father, still clutching the pink phone, rolled away and took cover in a corner of the room. Then, hunching over as if to hide the phone’s existence, he answered, “H-hello. Yes, hello.” He was saying something, but I could only catch fragments. Midway, her father said, “Sh- no, Shi-shi, Shima, right, Taneshima Higaki,” and I tensed up, thinking he’d called my name, but from his tone, it seemed he was just using it as an alias. Oh, come on… What are you doing, Mister?
“Senpai, let’s go to the room,” she said, pulling my hand. I’d been silently observing her father’s armadillo-like phone call posture for a while, but she seemed to have given up. She urged me on with an irritated expression.
“But her father…” Besides, he was saying weird stuff about a dead body or something.
“It’s fine, just leave him. That damn old man.”
Back to “damn old man,” are we?
For me, continuing to breathe the same air as her father would only put more strain on my internal organs, which were already aching from tension. Perhaps it would be wise to excuse myself while he’s engrossed in his call.
But still… it didn’t sit right. There’s also the possibility that there’s simply no way to amicably resolve a situation like ‘running into her dad at a hotel,’ but to run away when there are all these other elements I can’t just ignore, like the family fight, and other things…
Basically, I like the idea of family. It’s similar to how you feel happy when the members of your favorite music group get along. Even with other people’s families, I find myself wanting their relationships to be good. Though, if I’m not careful, that can turn into imposing my views on human relationships onto others.
“Senpai, hurry up.” This time, she pulled my arm strongly. Should I just stick to my original intention this time?
I stood up and, letting her lead me, walked away from her father towards the room’s entrance.
“Well then,” I said, giving a nod to the woman left behind as a substitute for a greeting. The woman, her eyes gleaming sharply but covered by eyelids that seemed heavy with sleep, bowed her head with a sudden drop. Usually, it’s a light nod or something, but her head dipped so abruptly that such a sound effect wouldn’t fit; I had no choice but to see it that way. Maybe she was just nodding off.
Trying not to make a sound, I opened the door, squeezed my shoulder through the slight gap, and stepped out into the hallway.
She went out first, then me.
As I was leaving, I glanced back once.
A green hat, dancing like a large leaf, passed by the window.
Stepping out into the hallway and closing the door shut out the sound. With nothing left to impede her faint irritation, the intensified electrical signal reached me.
“Let’s go. Let’s do something naughty. Just leave that damn old man.”
She invited me with a surly tone, about to head down the hallway. I moved at the same time.
Come to think of it, she was holding my hand again. My chest ached a little. Though my motives were all mixed up.
But I wasn’t smart enough to be able to fully affirm that. I found myself resisting her too.
“Hey.” I dug my heels in, stopping her advance.
“What is it?” she snapped, turning back, her irritation evident.
“What was the initial cause of the fight with your father?”
“Huh? Senpai, don’t dredge up the past.”
The hand she’d been tugging slipped from hers, and a slight distance opened up between us. It was clearly different from our conversations sitting across from each other in the cafeteria; this was an atmosphere of confrontation. Hostility and bewilderment forcibly intersected, making it hard to breathe.
“Even if we go to the room now, I think I’ll be the only one happy, and you’ll probably stay in a bad mood.”
“What kind of embarrassing, creepy thing are you saying?”
“No, I’m cringing with embarrassment for saying it too, but… I don’t think I’m wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” she grumbled again. Her eyes seemed to reproach my attempt to act bigger than I was, as if saying, ‘You don’t have to force yourself to play the understanding type.’ But I want to look cool sometimes.
“And another thing.”
“Is there more?”
“Before the day comes when I formally greet your father, I want to mediate between you two and raise my stock with him.” I mean, come on, meeting for the first time at a hotel? That’s the worst impression.
“Aha,” she laughed, though not joyfully. Quite a feat. “You and my father, Senpai? I can’t even imagine it.”
“Even if it’s a fight, it’s not a big deal. Just a verbal spat that turned into a bit of a scuffle, an extension of a rebellious phase.”
As if picking up on the flow of conversation, she brought up the topic of their fight.
“He’s always been strict, or rather, formal… He’d unilaterally force his ideas on us, and on top of that, if we tried to get closer, he’d dislike it and run away. I hated that about him.”
She disparaged her father’s flaws with an exasperated tone and shrugged.
“Dad was always nagging us to listen to people. It was nothing but complaints. He never allowed me or my brother to be selfish. And yet—”
The gaps between her open fingers closed, and blood seeped onto her palm.
“What I couldn’t forgive was that Dad kept running away from talking to my brother.”
“Your brother… uh, he died in April, right?”
“Yeah. He went to the same university as me and you, Senpai. He couldn’t go even once after becoming a third-year, though.”
“…I see.” My habit of not asking for people’s names has led to a bad turn of events.
I feel like it would have been better if I’d realized sooner.
“He was afraid to ask about his condition, to ask if it hurt, if he was suffering, if it was hard. After he died, all Dad did was hole up in my brother’s room and mope. I couldn’t forgive that pathetic display.”
“…Did you tell your father that?”
“Like I’d go out of my way to tell that runaway old geezer something like that.”
“If you haven’t told him yet, you should tell him now.”
Her lips rejected my meddling, as if to say it was none of my business.
But I’m not twisted enough to just usher her into a room with such complicated feelings. Believe it or not, my parents used to praise me for being pretty straightforward. Until elementary school, anyway.
“Here, take this.”
I took out a pack of cigarettes that, if I kept it, would probably just gather dust at home, cherished for no good reason.
*Hey, it’s your turn.* With that meaning, I tapped the front of the pack twice with my finger.
“Cigarettes? Senpai, you smoke?”
“No, just open it. It’s a present from me.”
There are many things I want to do for her.
But there’s very little I can do *for* her. This was about all I could think of.
“Huh…? At a time like this?” Tilting her head, she took the box.
Precisely because it’s a time like this. My trump card.
Dubiously, she opened the box and made the discovery. Realizing what it was, her pupils dilated. Her lips trembled for a moment. She moved her rapidly drying lips and mouth, looking like she was having trouble speaking.
“This… Senpai… Huh? You… knew my father?”
“No. I just happened to receive this box from a boy who probably has no connection to your father whatsoever.”
What is this connection, really? The Rolling Rice Ball? Or The Straw Millionaire? Clutching the edge of the tattered photograph, she froze. This pack of cigarettes is like a practical *inrō*—unassuming on the outside, but incredibly effective on the inside. Perhaps it was fate that it ended up in her hands like this.
We stood frozen in the hallway for a while, our gazes not meeting.
I was looking at her frozen profile.
I was thinking stupid things, like maybe it’s better not to act, so I’m easier to be henpecked by.
“‘There’s no way someone would change just from seeing one photo’—that’s what I used to think, making fun of it when I read stories like that,” she murmured, her eyes still fixed on the photograph as she confessed her thoughts.
“Yes, but?”
“…There’s no way I’d change, but it hit me hard. My guts churned.”
Ah, I get it, I totally get it. When you’re overcome with emotion, it hits you in the gut first, right?
In my case today, it was tension reaching a critical point, though.
“This hotel, you know, my whole family came here once, a long time ago.”
“Probably.”
She turned her head, looked around the hallway, and said it.
“Is that so? Come to think of it, your family home is around here, isn't it?”
“Back then, Dad held my hand, and I could live without even knowing the way.”
Gently crushing the photograph in her palm, she looked up at the unreachable ceiling.
Her sharp, *sanpaku* eyes softened at the corners, taking on a gentle roundness.
Then, tucking her chin, she bowed deeply to me.
“I’m sorry, Senpai. Today, I tried to use you to ruin my memories.”
“Ah, so that’s what it was… Well, I figured there had to be a reason if I suddenly became so popular.”
“So, reconciling with my father or anything like that is impossible, but… I don’t feel like I can go to the room with you anymore, Senpai.”
“…I see.” It’s an utterly dreamless story. If possible, one part of me honestly wants to say, “Hey, wait a minute,” and stop her, but…
I have to look cool here, right? There’s a part of me that can’t back down now.
“Are you going to your father’s place?”
“Here, you can have this back,” she said, pressing the cigarette box, now without the photo, into my hand.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
That was a rather unusual apology. But it suited what surrounded us right now.
“No, me too.”
“See you at university.”
“Yeah…”
*Ugh, this is probably impossible now,* we both felt.
Still, we maintained an adult demeanor and kept our distance.
Being an adult is all about losses, huh? I can understand why my old man complains to my mom.
What mingled with the breath I exhaled after putting five paces between us and her was:
We parted awkwardly.
I lost my chance.
I ended up protecting the ‘all-ages rating’ after all.
…And yet.
“Ah………… This is hopeless.”
The fact that joy is welling up from the release of tension…
It’s because most of my sigh was made of relief.

**Shiina Kouji**
4:45 PM

It’s Room 1701!
The phone I got from some woman I didn’t even know started ringing, and I talked to the person who called.
Somehow, it turned out that self-proclaimed detective was in the same hotel, and we ended up saying hello out the window, but…
The moment I finished counting the number of windows to the room the self-proclaimed detective had stuck his head out of, I almost screamed.
How can this man be casually showing his face from Room 1701?!
“W-w-wait a minute! You, don’t tell me…” Are you the handler? I started to say, but desperately clamped my mouth shut.
What good would it do to reveal his identity so easily? Even if calmly gathering information is impossible, just shut up for now.
“Yes? Do I look familiar to you?”
At this distance, it felt like our voices should carry without needing the phones, but in reality, we were mouthing the words from separate locations, our voices reaching each other’s ears from different directions in a strange sort of communication.
The detective had a hand to his hair, as if concerned about his hat having flown away.
“No, not your face, but… are you staying in that room?”
The detective’s gaze sharpened ever so slightly. His eyes twitched as if to say ‘What is it?’ and he looked flustered. “That’s an odd question. Do you have some business in this room?”
“No, well… Look, this must be some kind of fate. How about we meet and talk? I’ll head to that room now, so could you let me in?”
I proposed. We were both talking on other people’s phones; there was no way we could dispel our mistrust. If we’re already at rock bottom, might as well take a reckless leap.
“I don’t mind. I’ll be waiting.”
The detective readily agreed, gave a nod, and pulled his head back in. Just before he disappeared, he cast a lingering glance below the window. He was probably worried about where his hat had fallen.
I also moved away from the window and hung up the phone. When I turned around, Natsumi and Taneshima-kun were nowhere to be seen. “Hey, where are those two?” I asked the woman who remained, spacing out. “They left,” she said, pointing to the door. “…I see.” The hard part is not being able to lament, ‘Oh, please stop them.’ “Are you going out again?”
The woman asked about my future plans as if she were my wife.
“Yeah. I probably won’t have to come back here anymore, I think.”
“I see.”
Her expression showed no sign of relief, nor any hint of regretting a once-in-a-lifetime encounter.
It seemed I was treated with about as much attention as one gives to something flowing by when looking down at a large river from a bridge, thinking, “Oh, something’s floating there.” That was enough. For someone pessimistic enough about the world to want to commit suicide, showing even that much interest would be a grand display of curiosity.
“So, are you doing okay now?”
“Hmm?”
“Well, if you weren’t doing okay, it wouldn’t make sense to say ‘Take care,’ would it?”
I tried to cobble together some logic. I just hope she doesn’t have the energy for suicide.
The woman’s eyes wandered, and after a uniquely dull pause, she let her forehead droop forward with a nod.
“Well then, ‘okay,’ I guess.”
“Roger that. In that case, take care.”
“Yes. You too, be careful.”
Even if it was just social pleasantries, it felt good to have someone wish for my safety.
I took a step towards the door with a strange sense of fulfillment.
“Huh?” The woman suddenly reacted with a bewildered cry.
“What is it?” I turned, just my head.
“Aren’t you leaving through the window?”
The woman was genuinely mystified by my normal behavior.
“……Please, give me a break.”
“Huh.” She didn’t seem to understand, but the woman nodded vaguely.
What an absentminded woman, right to the end. It was as if I’d gained a new daughter, and I found myself strangely anxious about this woman’s future. It wouldn’t matter if it were midway, but please don’t make me feel this way when we’re parting… like Natsumi.
“Later.” “Later, later.” We said goodbye one last time, and I left the room.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I ran into Natsumi, who was leaning against the wall beside the door. “Ah…” Natsumi averted her eyes awkwardly and called me, “Dad.” Yep, I’m Dad. It was like a simple confirmation of fact, but for some reason, a little joy welled up. As long as she doesn’t add ‘damn’ to it, ‘old man’ isn’t half bad.
“Where’s Taneshima-kun?” That was the first thing I needed to check.
“Senpai and I decided to part ways for today after leaving the room.”
“Eh, ah, my fault?”
“One hundred percent true.”
She replied matter-of-factly, not seeming particularly dissatisfied. Had her mood improved?
“I’ll call a truce for now, with you, Dad. Senpai told me a few things too.”
“…Hoh.” To think such a peaceful suggestion would come from my daughter’s mouth. “I’ll have to thank Taneshima-kun eventually.” Including for putting some distance between himself and my daughter here.
At this, Natsumi, for some reason, let out a small snort. She muttered under her breath, “Your plan worked perfectly, Senpai,” but I wondered what they had been discussing. I hoped it wasn’t a plan to outwit me.
Natsumi moved away from the wall and stood in front of me.
“If you’re going somewhere, I’ll go with you. You came here because you have something to do, right?”
What’s gotten into you all of a sudden, daughter? Changing your attitude like you’ve had a sudden change of heart. Did something happen with Taneshima-kun… Hmm.
“………No, because you’ll see something painful.”
“Shut up. I don’t want to fight anymore, so just ‘yes, yes’ to whatever either of us says, okay?”
It seemed there was no room for debate with Natsumi. As if it were already decided, she took a step ahead and looked back.
“Besides, what’s this ‘painful thing’?”
“I decided to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Why is this creepy guy voicing his monologue out loud?”
Though it seemed my daughter’s assessment of me was dropping, since my reputation with her couldn’t possibly sink any lower, I, unperturbed, was relieved that I’d managed to gloss over it. It was a little hard for me to say it myself.
It would be painful, but I’d have Natsumi face reality without any preamble.
This time, I walked towards the far end of the hallway and, finally able to return, knocked on the door of Room 1701 as if in prayer.
After a few seconds, the door opened effortlessly from the inside.
“Mr. Taneshima, hello.”
The person who emerged was a man lacking presence, one who fit the description ‘a plain-looking pretty boy.’ Appearing from a hotel room holding a duralumin case in one hand, it somehow looked like a scene from a movie.
“Mr. Taneshima? Dad, you know…” Natsumi, beside me, admonished my use of the alias.
“It’s a fake name, don’t worry about it.”
“You’d say that right in front of the person whose name you’re using?”
The detective, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at me, said, “I like it,” and gestured with his hand, “Well, please come in.”
“I never thought I’d be able to come here again in such a straightforward way.”
The detective, perhaps having overheard my soliloquy, turned around. “Is something wrong?”
“How did you get the card key for this place?”
“Mr. White Cat’s delivery service brought it.”
“A cat?” What’s that supposed to mean?
…Come to think of it, when I first went out the window, a white cat went into the room. But you can’t entrust locking a window to a cat, so that’s probably unrelated.
“Let’s get straight to it, Mr. Taneshima. Is this related to your objective?”
The detective pointed to the bathroom door. Ah, so he found it after all. No, wait, what if this self-proclaimed detective was the one who summoned me, the culprit? Never mind a desperate situation; if he were that kind of guy, we wouldn’t have been waving ‘yoo-hoo’ to each other out the window. So, he probably isn’t the culprit.
“Could you let me confirm? That’s what I came all this way for.”
“I’m not a guest in this room, much less the police. You don’t need permission.”
Standing beside the door like a bellboy, he gave a theatrical, reverent bow. What a strange man, especially combined with his attire. “Alright, I’m opening it.”
The next person I sought permission from was Natsumi. “Fine, but… what? That dead body, you weren’t joking?” Natsumi laughed, as if putting on a brave front. When I answered, “Correct,” her smile froze.
Steeling myself, I opened the door. I peered inside and saw that the shower curtain covering the bathtub had been opened.
Ah, I wanted to cover my face with both hands and block out reality.
Natsumi, sticking close to my back, craned her neck into the bathroom and saw the prone figure of “my wife.”