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"Mom!"
Natsumi shoved me aside as she dove into the bathroom, rushing to my wife.
Heedless of fingerprints, she pawed all over her, cradling her mother's remains.
"Her mother, you say?" the detective prompted, urging me to explain.
"She's my wife, and her mother."
For a fleeting moment, the detective's expression seemed to say, "Are you messing with me?" but he instantly masked it with impassivity.
"Mom! Is she alive? Hey, is she dead? A ho-hospital! Call an ambulance!"
Natsumi, half-mad with panic, barked orders at either me or the detective. But neither of us moved. We had both, at the very least, resigned ourselves to the fact that there was no need to call an ambulance.
"This body... what are the circumstances?" The detective, his expression unchanged, moved on to the next question.
"I can't say for sure about my wife, but..."
I paused, then, for the first time here, I voiced my true purpose for the day, without deception.
"I came to this hotel to exchange my wife's body for money. I was summoned here."
"Oh, is that so?"
A voice of understanding came from an unexpected direction. The detective and I turned simultaneously.
Natsumi, too, momentarily set down her mother's body and rushed out of the bathroom.
It was a reflex, not intentional, but my arm shot out to push Natsumi protectively behind me.
And then, as our gazes converged on the figure, each of us voiced our recognition.
"You..." "The one from the elevator..." "The lady..."
"You're all correct."
Standing outside the room, the woman who had "gifted" me the phone was smiling sweetly.
Her clothes were disheveled, she was barefoot, there were handprints on her neck, and she was clutching a green hat in her right hand.

Yamana Misato
Suicidal Ideation
4:50 PM
The old guy, his daughter, and her boyfriend left the room, and I was alone.
Alone? Or rather, back to being alone, wouldn't that be more accurate? Nah, either way is fine, I guess.
I disliked the lingering warmth from the gathering of people, so I moved to the window. The afternoon breeze, with evening waiting in the wings, felt good. "Aahh." It was like the sensation of a fan blowing on the underside of your chin. The wind seeped into my skin, weary from being around people, and the fatigue just melted away. With that feeling, I realized that the sense of a day having ended was already visiting me at this hour. Was it fulfilling, I wonder?
I looked out the window. No cat, no old guy, just a peaceful wall. The sound of cars from the road on the other side of the building was incessant. It's a world away from the countryside where I live. I've never seen a line of cars in front of my house, and anyone walking around outside after 10 PM would be considered suspicious. It's that depopulated. Or rather, because there's been a string of murders over the past year, it gets really quiet at night.
A gentle breeze, *soyosoyo*, caressed my hair. The pressure felt similar to when *he* used to stroke my hair.
I want to drink juice by this window. Such a desire welled up. Even though I'm cowering at the thought of wanting to kill myself, I hate how my feet have been readily giving in to food-related demands for a while now.
Speaking of suicide, that old guy was talking about a dead body and whatnot. What was that all about, I wonder?
I turned around, and my eyes fell on the suicide note on the desk. ......Suddenly curious, I flipped it over. "Ugh!" A typo, as if magnified by a microscope, was emblazoned on the front. What the heck is a "suicide gnote"? I reread the contents, blushed anew, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash.
I can't even jump without something like this, so I guess I can't die.
And that old guy, he really did find my suicide note. Did he read it too? So embarraaaassing.
Indignant, I went outside. The voices of two men echoed in the hallway.
At first, I guessed it might be Tanetorii-kun and the old guy, but there was no sign of them.
In front of a room about two doors down, someone who looked like a front desk clerk and a man with only the upper half of his body sticking out of an open door were talking about something. The half-exposed man was wearing flip-flops.
"Yeah, yeah, alright, alright, the cat's meowing is too loud, you say? So sorry about that. That should cover it, right...? Huh? Strange shrieks? I don't know anything about that. *Doo hah hah doo hah hah wyo hee*? You think I can make a scream like that? Is that even a scream? Sounds more like some kind of chant to me."
The man in the flip-flops seemed to be apologizing, though full of complaints. He just said "cat." Someone keeping a cat in a hotel must be pretty rare. Does that mean he was the one I was talking to on the phone earlier?
I traced the room number engraved on the door with my eyes; it was '1707'.
The flip-flop man forcefully shooed away the front desk clerk, spitting out, "More importantly, clean out your ears so you don't get the room number wrong!" He was angry about something similar on the phone earlier, if I recall. The flip-flop man quickly retreated into his room.
Looking closely, the right side of the front desk clerk's face was swollen. I wonder if a short-tempered guest got angry and hit him, or something like that.
"...Hmm." I made a U-turn too.
Back in my room, I *pipopa-ed* on the hotel phone. The other person picked up immediately.
"Yes, hellooo. This is the free counseling center. Feel free to vent your complaints, fall into self-loathing, and roll around on the carpet like a pill bug. Yes, go aheaaad."
"Uh, ah, actually, lately, this weird old guy has been coming in through my window a lot—"
"Then smash the whole window. What's with you? I'm in a bad mood right now, can't you tell by my voice?"
"What are you angry about?"
"Apparently, a guest who wanted some quiet time called the front desk to complain that a cat was being noisy and another guest was making strange shrieks. And for some reason, *I* was the only one told to keep it down."
The flip-flop man vented his complaints in a prickly tone. Setting aside our reversed roles, strange shrieks, huh? I should have been able to say something about that, given what I'd experienced, but there's nothing more troublesome than getting involved in trouble, so I kept the spark of that information clenched in my hand. The lie singed slightly, leaving a dry taste in my throat.
"Um, I..."
"Huh?"
"Um..."
"I think I'm the person who called you earlier."
There I go again, speaking as if it's someone else's business. This has become a habit; maybe I should try to fix it.
"Hm! ...Ah, right, that gloomy voice, perfect for prank calls."
He's not one to hide his opinions. Being told so bluntly felt, oddly, a little refreshing.
"Is this a two-part prank call, a prequel and a sequel?"
"No, well, I have this chronic condition that makes me want to call you."
"A phone fiend, huh?" For some reason, he accepted that. He seems difficult, but maybe he's surprisingly straightforward, or rather, just a simple person. Though he did add, "I hate phones, though."
"I have no business with you. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that in mind when you talk to me."
"Won't you talk with me for a bit?"
"Your ears or your brain, which one's further from your head, dammit? Even a cat would listen more properly."
I remembered someone in the mountains back home who used to proclaim, "Sooo, I'm just lonely for peopleee."
"What are you? Starting some new kind of business? I don't get your point at all."
"Ah, I'm Yamana Misato." I think this is the first time I've introduced myself to someone I met at this hotel.
In the end, I never did find out that old guy's name.
"Nobody asked for your name. I'm asking what *you* are, wanting to talk to me."
"..."
"Why are you frozen? Are you doing an impression of my laptop crashing or something?"
"Ah, then, what's your name?"
"What do you mean, 'then'? I'm Kitsukawa Eiji... Ah, no, wait, well, whatever, I've already said it."
"Kitsukawa... Eiji...-san?" The pronunciation formed by that string of characters sounded familiar.
One of the friends I made in college (or rather, the only one I managed to make) takes shape in my memory, like blood congealing into a human form. That girl replays rust-colored memories, moving around. Mainly her mouth.
She used to talk during lectures, loudly and without caring who was watching, about how she was currently obsessed with a novelist named Kitsukawa Eiji. I wasn't a good listener, but I was a poor talker, so I'd just let her words flow past me, employing my three all-purpose responses: "Is that so," "Huh," and "Hmm." She was the kind of girl who, once obsessed with something, wouldn't show interest in anything else for a year or even two – like the ultimate form of impulsiveness, rumored to have a bit of a stalkerish personality. I don't know if her interest is still directed that way, but that's how I recognized the name Kitsukawa Eiji.
"Are you a writer?"
"Heeh, you know a lot. Are you perhaps a fan of mine?" He said it in the most monotone voice possible.
Maybe he has bad memories of fans. If they were all like my friend, well, that would suck, I guess. That girl once looked up another writer's address and was about to show up at their house. She has a bit of a strong delusional streak.
"I've never read your work, though." My friend also strongly told me not to read it. She was saying something about wanting him to remain in a position known only to those in the know. That it would be lonely if he became too famous. Makes no sense to me.
"Oh, really. That's fine then, just hang up the phone quickly."
"I have something I'd like to discuss."
"Look, I'm not some hard-boiled writer, so I don't have a consultation corner or anything."
"Today, I was thinking of killing myself."
"...Whoa! Whoa! Don't say it, I can't hear you! Or rather, don't bring up stuff like that! I only want to deal with manufacturing corpses in my novels!"
"I wanted to fly high, like a Ganbarist."
"If you have the energy to try so hard at something like that, go be kind to the Earth or something!"
"But various things happened, and I couldn't die."
"Isn't that a good thing! Try hard and live! Sayonaraaa!"
"The cat you have there also became one of the reasons that held me back."
"Huh? Are you trying to find fault with my cat?"
"Cats are nice, aren't they?"
"Marvelous. Well then, that's that."
"So, what are your thoughts on suicide?" I abruptly brought the topic back.
"I'm busy! And don't do it! If you have nothing to do even if you're alive, then sleep! If you get hungry while sleeping, eat! If you eat and sweat, take a bath! If you keep repeating that, you'll die on your own eventually, so there's no need to rush it! That's all from Kitsukawa Eiji's consultation corner! End of transmission!"
"Haaah."
"Didn't you say you weren't busy earlier?"
"Of course that was a lie. I have to eat something sweet now. Being caught between the interactions of those idiots sprouting up like mushrooms made me desperately crave sugar."
He grumbled bitterly, something like resentment. I have no idea what he's talking about, but indeed, his tone does sound like it needs some sweetener.
"But, I'm definitely not eating the same thing as those guys. So, I'm going to another place."
"Listen, if you can't die, then live. See ya."
With those parting words, the call was cut short, with little sentiment. I'd been starved for a phone call, so even a conversation like this was quite satisfying.
Yes, I'm fulfilled. Fragments of his voice, slowly settling.
The gears in my head, which had been starting to rust, absorbed the dust of those fragments and slowly began to turn.
The haze that had spread over the world was lifted, just a little.
After deciding to kill myself this afternoon, I encountered various things, and I remembered something obvious.
The nourishment for the heart isn't glucose. It's other people. The sweet honey that my lonely tongue continues to lick, stored up for decades in the one year I met *him*, after eighteen years of being unfulfilled.
The nutrients he gave me are surely still remaining within my heart.
I can't just let them rot while stored away.
To me, *he* is everything. Just because he's dead doesn't mean I have to sever his existence.
I can surely continue to look at the dead in a positive way.
I won't accept that there's nothing a dead person can do.
Because that is my one and only conviction. I will trap despair eternally within my heart,
live so as not to let the sadness cease, and someday,
I will find the best way to die, something I can do for *him*. From now on, that's all I'll think about.
"If you can't die, then live."
Those are good words, I'm convinced. I'll make them my motto.
I close the window. Having finished my release, I entrust all sensation to the soles of my feet.
Like going for a light walk outside when I can't sleep even after getting into bed.
To die tomorrow, I've decided to live today.

Sakurayama Eko
4:35 PM
"You're killing him right now, Anata."
I ran down the escalator, felt like I could fly through the sky with you, Anata, so I jumped off, landed, and started running. Aaah, Anata, I got lost again! I lost sight of him because of that Spirogyra's microbial movements, didn't I! You know my flaw, don't you? Why don't you help me? I'm listening to your requests, so why isn't it mutual, Anata! But it's okay, I'm strong-willed, so I can endure that part of you too, so I tried my best and found him again! I ran all over the hotel, chasing him, searching for him, for over ten minutes, enduring your lack of help, and found that Spirogyra! The *clack-clack-clack* of your favorite footsteps, I can't use them now, I'm sorry. *Clackaclackaclacka*, these shoes are so annoying, I'll kick them off! Buy me new ones later, Anata, we're one in body and spirit now, so my feet are your feet, you understand? So more, more, more...
...you'll cherish them more than usual, won't you? For you to become so much kinder than before, Anata, it was truly good that you were killed.
"You're killing him right now, Anata."
But I'll properly listen to your selfish requests too, Anata. I'm going to kill him for you right now. Through the passage next to the ramen shop, from the entrance into the courtyard, I'm chasing the blue suit you desire!
It's okay, I'll thank you properly after I kill him. Aaah, but I'm in trouble, so help me, Anata, guide me! I get lost easily. I managed to find him myself just now, but it seems impossible anymore. If this keeps up, I'll lose that Spirogyra because of my only flaw! If that happens, even I, who am one with you, will feel bad, and I'll start to resent that you died, Anata, and that would be a problem, wouldn't it? So guide me, lead the way, guide me, Anata!
Aaah, this must be your help, Anata, surely! Ahead on the path that looks like the skin of a stone giant, there was an insect couple, an ant and a bell cricket! They're spinning a thread and connecting it to their pinky fingers, that's wonderful! It's the blunder of my lifetime that I couldn't think of it while you were alive, Anata. To think my imagination was less than those mere insects, I'm full of regret! I'll evolve more from now on, so let's fly together, Anata, spin your thread! Change, before we talk to them together! You're killing him right now, Anata.
I circle around to the front and talk to the ant. Ohoho, do you understand wooords? And it's a good thing neither of you are blue! My scatterbrained master might have mistaken you for Spirogyra and nearly sicced me on you to slaughter or collect you. Both of you are the color of camel crickets, makes me want to stomp on you.
Especially the female bell cricket. For some reason, I feel an almost wasteful amount of disgust for this insect. Kin-hatred? No way! I wouldn't want a bell cricket to become human, nor would I want to become a bell cricket.
"Did a gentleman in a blue suit come this way?"
"He did. He ran straight ahead." You're killing him right now, Anata.
"Thank you. And also, that's very lovely, that thing of yours."
That thread on their fingers was such an innovative bond that it caused the unprecedented event of me, of all people, praising a mere ant and bell cricket. I'd love to do it with you, Anata, but where is your physical body now? Oh, that's right, I can just ask Spirogyra! You said my mind and tongue work too fast for you to keep up, Anata, so I once cut two centimeters off my tongue, but is it still too fast? Should I cut more? Nooo, we're one in body and spirit, so you're slipstreaming right behind me now, aren't you? Time is accelerating! Come on, let's start running too! If the ant wasn't lying, Spirogyra went this way! How far does he intend to run? As long as I'm chasing him, there's no finish line, so if he'd just realize sooner that "running away" isn't the right expression, he wouldn't have to die!
"You're killing him right now, Anata."
Sliding the soles of my feet like skates, I run across the polished white stones, cutting through the middle. He went straight, right? It'll be fine, I'm confident in my leg strength! It's a byproduct of training to chase and watch over you, Anata. Now that it's serving a purpose for you like this, fate sure does make some stylish arrangements. I usually thought of it as a cockroach or something, but I'll promote it to a ladybug! Come on, fate, serve me more! "You're killing him right now, Anata." There he is! Off the stone path, cutting through the trees, I sprint so as not to lose sight of that sliver of Spirogyra. This is something I did every day to observe you, Anata, so it's too easy; I even managed to compose two love letters to you along the way! I'll read them to you later, after I've stomped Spirogyra to death.
Diverging from the courtyard that leads to the bustling streets, Spirogyra has entered the back alley of the hotel and paused. Your spirit must have reached Spirogyra too, Anata! That's your kindness for you! But I'm the one who gets to monopolize that, so what are you showing off for? Don't mess with me! Just taking away his five senses isn't enough to remove your foolishness, Anata. I have to optimize you more.
Spirogyra turns around and smiles weakly.
"To think I'd get to experience again how it felt when I poked a beehive in the countryside."
"You're killing him right now, Anata."
I've cornered him, AAAAAAAAH! Spirogyra dodges my thrown fist sideways again. But I keep thrusting regardless, and Spirogyra counterattacks, so I take the hit. I was punched with full force. But I don't care. I grab that arm, robbing him of his freedom, and kick upwards. He dodged that too, putting so much effort into it his elbow nearly broke, but the moment it grazed his body, "Tch! Dammit!" Where are Spirogyra's weak spots, I wonder? Whatever it was, I seem to have touched it, and his movements suddenly stop. Full of openings, full of weak spots! All that's left is a crotch kick, anything, pick your poison! Come on, Anata, where should we start, where should we kill him from— *Thump.*
"...Huh?" Something suddenly covered my head completely.
My hand, which was about to dismember Spirogyra, completely lost its momentum from the surprise attack, and I touched what was covering my head, checking it with an anxious touch.
Is this... a hat? It *plopped* down, completely covering my head and my forward vision.
My vision shifted from Spirogyra's murky blue to a dull green expanse.
All my nerves were forcibly seized by that flying object, and my whole body slammed on the brakes.
Only my brain was thirty centimeters ahead, grasping the situation, and the inside of my skull tightened with a *kyu*.
"You're killing him right now, Anata."
The moment I muttered that, Spirogyra's cilia extended towards my neck. I couldn't even scream or groan.
My throat was strangled in an instant. My vision was blocked by the hat, not transmitting anything, and I had the illusion of a giant snake biting my throat.
"Aah... My daily conduct isn't good, but I surprisingly get saved, huh—"
The green visible beyond the hat gradually turned black.
The flickering lights in the corner of my eyes increased, the fuse of death approaching. You're floating, Anata. Will I be able to enjoy a journey through the sky with you? But you're killing him right now, Anata.

Hanasaki Tarou
(Detective)
&
Touki (Girl)
4:55 PM
The old guy, his face the color of the azure sky, was opening and closing his mouth violently, like double doors.
"W-w-wait a minute! You, don't tell me..."
He was hyping me up with "don't tell me," as if he'd just witnessed a legendary hero. As for me, I can't quite settle down without my hat; I feel like I'm radiating confidence in addition to heat.
"Yes? Do you recognize my face or something?"
Lamenting the absence of my hat, I feigned ignorance and prompted a reply.
"No, not your face, but... are you staying in that room?"
Someone interested in this room? Hoooh.
When I sharpened my gaze a little, the man's left eye twitched, and I became certain of something.
"That's an odd question. Do you have some business with this room?" I decided to tease him a little.
"No, well... Hey, this must be some kind of fate, too. How about we meet and talk? I'm heading to that room now, would you let me in?"
"I don't mind. I'll be waiting."
I judged that this old guy probably held the key to the case, so I agreed. I considered the possibility that he was dangerous, but he looked so obviously worn out that I figured it was safe to let my guard down. Better than the police, anyway. A person's appearance is important. Thanks to that, one can sometimes feel confident without much basis; you can't just dismiss first impressions entirely.
I tried to salvage my hat, which had fallen below the window, by following it with my gaze, but it had already disappeared. Once this case is over, I'll retrieve it when I go out for dinner.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door from outside. Just in case, I kept the duralumin case with me as a potential weapon and opened the door. In the hallway stood the old guy and another person, a woman who looked like an overripe fruit.
And so, the two of them were guided into the room and came face-to-face with the corpse in the bathtub.
That's when the woman cried out, "Mom!"
Right after the old guy declared the identity of the corpse as his "wife," a voice called out from outside the room.
Standing there, dignified and with her back straight, was the woman who had stepped on me in the elevator.
Out of breath, she was forcing her best smile, smoothing her disheveled hair with her hands.
Her clothes were a mess, as if she'd just survived some ordeal, and her feet were bare, her toes filthy. Had she stepped on a rock or something? The soles of her feet were staining the carpet with blood. Had she had some trouble with that man in blue?
In any case, it was delightful that she had reappeared, and not been killed.
Though, the fact that she appeared here, at this timing, was highly problematic.
More importantly, though, I noticed she was clutching my hat in her hand.
"That... did you pick it up for me? It's the hat I dropped."
"A hat? Yes, I stepped on it a little, but this was yours—"
Saying that, she tossed it over somewhat roughly. This time, I managed to snatch the hat as it flew towards my waist, and I put it back on with a *kyu*. "...Phew." A sense of relief washed over me, like after finishing one's business. A handy, complete form achieved.
I'd like to consider, if I get the chance, how the four of us, including myself, ended up gathering in room 1701. But right now, more importantly, if I don't solve the mystery of this corpse, what name shall I stake on it?
No, this isn't the time to be seriously worrying about such things.
"What business brings you here...?"
Ignoring my words, the woman slipped into the room. Then, with a light *tat-tat-tat* of quick steps, she approached the bathroom and peeked inside. The old guy tried to stop her, yelling "Hey!" but the woman paid him no mind at all.
Ignoring even the distraught daughter crying, "Police! No, an ambulance! Mom is...!" the woman glanced at the corpse and quickly pulled her body back.
"This isn't it. What I'm looking for."
"What you're looking for...?"
She spat out the remark, as if disappointed.