---

---

"Huh?"

All told, four couples were brightening the cafe atmosphere with their utterly shameless feeding displays. Each pair was sinking into a bottomless swamp of sweetness, like maple syrup poured into honey.
Except for one person. The customer next to us was not a plural.
There was no more curry left in the pot. He was isolated, without support.
Having finished his oolong tea, he noisily chewed on the remaining water and air at the bottom of the glass, then opened his eyes. He raised a small hand to the waitress, who was clearing two coffee cups from a distant table. "Excuse me."
And to the waitress who approached with a professional smile and a "Yes?", he said just one thing.
"I'd like to feed you some cake, if you don't mind."
I privately agreed that both of their reactions were perfectly understandable.

After that, Mayu and I slurped lemon tea through straws, "shoo-shoo-shooop," and also stuck two straws into one glass, "shoo-shoo-krrkrrkrrkrr (the latter part being the sound of sucking air once the drink was gone and only ice remained)." If only it could have been a lie just when we were in the public eye.

And so, instead of heading straight back to our room, we decided to go for a little walk in the hotel's courtyard. For Mayu, this constituted "sightseeing," which, in her pronunciation, came out as "sightseein'."
The curry man who had been fighting his lonely battle next to us settled his bill around the same time and headed towards the elevators. His steps were heavy, a distinctly unphotogenic, grumpy look plastered on his face. Not that I care, though.

We took the escalator down to the first floor (as an aside, seeing the escalator warning sign that said, "Please hold your child's hand firmly," Mayu dug her nails sharply into my hand and squeezed tight), and walked through the hotel. We exited through the courtyard entrance next to the ramen shop and headed towards the den of green. The path, surrounded by a thicket of unfamiliar trees—so unfamiliar I felt like singing, "These are trees whose names I dooooon't knoooow"—was stone-paved and garden-like. The atmosphere was nice, but the regrettable part was that, being sandwiched between the hotel buildings, it couldn't exactly be called picturesque. It was rather withered, with shadows and gloom coloring the space.
"It's sightseeing, but the 'sights' are hard to 'see,' huh?" Mayu said, her lips barely moving as she declared, "Tomorrow, we're going to the sea."
The day before our trip, we had talked about visiting the beach if we got the chance. Because, apparently, "At the twilight sea, it's 'aventure' 'choo-choo' time!"
The hard click-clack of shoes kicking stones approached from behind. Mayu was oblivious, so I turned around enough for both of us. Specifically, since turning one's head halfway is normal, for two people it would be exactly one full turn, which ultimately meant doing nothing in particular. It was all very roundabout. Tedious, even though my head hadn't actually turned.
The man in the blue suit who had spoken to us when we reached the seventeenth floor ran past us. An artificial breeze faintly rustled my hair. The blue-suited man, still running in place—*tap-tap-tap*—stopped and, turning back, smiled. His face and hair shone like sunlight. He looked a little like Natsuki-san, I thought.
"That really is wonderful, isn't it?" The man pointed towards my and Mayu's hands.
The blue-suited man cheerfully praised the string on my and Mayu's pinky fingers, then immediately ran off as if escaping deeper into the courtyard. He was quite the suspicious character, but since this week was "No Reporting Suspicious People to the Authorities" week, I let him go. I don't want that to be a lie.
It doesn't matter to me if anyone outside my world gets hurt. I wonder, do "normal people," as the world calls them, really have to feel their hearts ache or break over such unrelated violations?
Running up a little further behind was an older sister-type who—though I'll keep silent about where I pictured this—boasted a resemblance to Fushimi Yuzuyuzu eight years in the future. She was the older sister of the college student-looking girl I’d encountered in front of the elevator, I believe. Slightly out of breath, she stopped in front of us. That's when I noticed that, for some reason, the older sister-type was barefoot. Like a child about to run the fifty-meter dash at an elementary school sports day.
"Did a man in a blue suit come this way?"
"He did. He ran straight ahead," I answered honestly, not wanting to get too involved. A life without lies is truly good for one's mental health, isn't it? Maybe that's not a lie. Telling a big lie here, somehow, my intuition sensed danger.
"Thank you. And also, that's truly wonderful."
With a charm that could be summed up as goddess-like, she refreshingly praised the string on my and Mayu's pinkies. Then, without a hint of doubt, she ran off in the direction I had indicated.
"...Hmm."
I'm honored by the praise, but I can't help but wonder if she and he, who describe this as "wonderful," don't possess a considerable amount of prejudice disguised as "common sense." By adding "truly," the older sister-type is even more qualified in that regard, I suppose.
"We got praised," Maa-tan said, digging her fingers into the spaces between my ribs. It seems she was terribly upset that my attention had strayed from Mayu even for a moment while I was talking to the older sister-type.
To tell the truth, the Maa-chan I fell for back then, swept up by the situation, was a much gentler girl.
But even so, the current Maa-chan is precious to me.
Right now, in this garden, there are two Mii-kuns and Maa-chans, weavers of lies.

After finishing our short walk and sightseeing, we returned to the room.
Around the time the digital clock showed 5:00 PM, Mayu started jumping on the bed.
"Dinner is 'dinaa'!"
"Wow, Maa-chan, your English is so good~"
"Nooo! So, like, it's knives and forks clink-clank-clatter, and eeeek, the night view from the twenty-fifth floor, ooh-ahh-ooh-ahh, but Maa-chan is even more kyu-pi-riiin, you know, *that* kind of thing!"
"I see, I've pretty much grasped the gist of it."
"Hmm. I am pleased that Mii-kun's Maa-chan comprehension skills are improving day by day."
"I am honored to be learning," I said, bowing my head jokingly. Heh-heh.
"As a reward, I shall grant you the right to help Maa-chan change her clothes."
"Wooow." Same as always.

"Dress uuuup!"
"Appuppu." A remnant from the staring contest I’d just been playing with Mayu. Of course, Mayu had won by a landslide. After all, just gazing at Maa-chan makes my cheek muscles relax so much I can't even speak properly... Well, that's a lie, though. But isn't the one who smiles the winner in life?
So, after Maa-chan finished getting ready, we left the room to find Luigi-san standing outside. In front of room "1701." He greeted me with a "Hey," so I gave a nod with a "Hello," and headed for the elevator. What business could he have had in that room, I wondered, a question flitting through my mind as I recalled my switched-off cell phone.

We took the elevator down to the hotel basement, stopped by the restroom... and after a brief encounter there, we arrived at the Chinese restaurant. It's a buffet, huh? Heh.
But just like with Nagase that one time, girls' demands are always a high degree of difficulty. Still, Maa-chan should be satisfied here— *Thwack!* Without a word, she socked me right in the cheek. Either my neck or my eyeballs spun around.
"What is this place?" Since we were in public, her voice was set to a low pitch, making it even more terrifying. It seemed this restaurant was not to her liking.
"A restaurant with a wide variety of dishes."
"...And one more thing." Her impression upon taking a single step inside. Just like us country folk, I wonder if 5 PM is the usual dinner time in this moderately urban city too. A fair number of customers were eating.
"And?"
Mayu's eyes, usually like marbles but now dull like lead balls, looked up at me as she tapped my head with her finger. As if checking if there was anything inside. Hehehe, your Mii-kun comprehension is still weak, Maa-chan. If you just think back on my usual words and actions, you'd be able to figure out which it is in an instant.
"'Cause Maa-chan is a picky eater, you know."
If we ordered a course meal at the top-floor restaurant, for example, how many dishes would there actually be that she could eat?
"I thought we should come here."
When I tried to act cool for no reason, Mayu started whacking my head with open palms. A family with children, overtaking us from behind, looked back curiously before quickly looking away as if they hadn't seen anything. The string on our pinkies is like a protective charm. Though, perhaps it's something that shouldn't be avoided.
"Okay, let's go to the fancy-pants restaurant tomorrow. Yep, tomorrow," I said, placating her while gently pushing her back to lead her deeper into the restaurant. A waiter near the register approached and asked the standard, "How many in your party?" I replied, "Two, and we don't smoke," and we were shown to our seats. The interior was Western-style with a white theme; the Chinese-ness seemed to be reproduced only on the tabletops.
"Shall we go get some food?"
I gently tugged the pinky string, hoping for a response from the still-pouting Mayu. Muttering, "No fork. No knife. No view," Mayu nevertheless stood up as if pulled by the string and started walking with me.
"We'll go tomorrow. Okay?" Pat, pat. I made a mental note for tomorrow's me to eat lightly in preparation for the evening, as we headed to the long table in the center. First, we each took a plate and joined the end of the line of people circling the table for food, like kids playing in a lazy river. The flow was slow, as if there was a traffic jam, and I could practically feel the irritation of the person in front of me, but I wasn't particularly bothered. It's not so much that I'm patient, but... more like my mind has given up the function of caring. That's probably more accurate.
"Huh?"
Somehow, I managed to fill about seventy percent of my plate with things other than pure white. Mayu's plate was also lopsided with the same few dishes, but as a colorful arrangement, it wasn't bad. Even a monochrome painting has its own unique flavor.
The dessert table seemed to be separate, so we headed there last. "Mii-kun, you don't like sweets, do you?" Mayu tilted her head slightly as we walked. "Aren't you going to eat anything, Maa-chan?" I asked. Mayu craned her neck, quickly scanned the tabletop, and nodded, "I'll eat."
On our way, a table that briefly caught the corner of my eye had a lone female customer heartily devouring a large plate of ankake yakisoba. There were three stacked plates beside her, so that must have been her fourth. I was about to be impressed by her dedication to getting her money's worth at a buffet, but then I started wondering how much this place cost, and whether we'd even brought our wallets, and a wave of anxiety about our seemingly non-existent future washed over me, so I decided to unsee various things.
"...Ah, but. Oh well. If I stare at a woman's face too much, Maa-chan's jealousy beam (not very fast for a beam of light, but it hurts) will come flying. Besides, earlier, while Mayu was in the restroom, I actually talked to her a little."
Having reached the dessert table, Mayu extended her hand towards a steamer basket containing sweet bean buns.
The man next to her also seemed to be reaching for the last remaining bun. They were about to collide.
Mayu and the man's fingers almost touched, and Mayu dramatically pulled her hand back to avoid it. The man scowled at her exaggerated reaction but said nothing about it.
It was the man who had been eating curry alone at the cafe earlier. He was dressed in the same casual clothes as before, and his sharp gaze and the dark circles under his eyes were also the same. Seeing him standing, I also noticed he was unusually tall.
"This one's mine. Got it?" the man asserted his ownership. But Mayu, completely ignoring his words, quickly transferred the bun to her own plate. "Hey!" the man exclaimed in exaggerated shock, pointing at Mayu, but she still ignored him.
The man grumbled, "What the hell," scratching his scalp with a disgruntled look, but he didn't press the issue further.
"Ah, forget it. I'm leaving," he said, turning his back to us.
"If you wait, they'll bring out more soon," I offered, as a sort of follow-up.
"Shut up. I just don't like the outcome of having yielded something to someone else. If it comes to that, I'd rather find something completely different and be satisfied with that."
The man muttered this under his breath and then, true to his word, headed towards the register. Was he difficult, or was that a textbook example of a short-tempered personality? It vaguely reminded me of the attitude of a certain kidnapper and captor towards their family. Since that thought was about to kill my appetite, I put a lid on that recollection right there.
Other than that, I sealed away imaginings like how if someone kept shouting my name here, all the food on my plate might turn into yellowish starchy sauce, and then Maa-chan and I skipped back to our seats—yes, we really did. To hide the fact that I'd buried all sorts of things beneath the soil of my memory, I planted flower seeds in my brain to cultivate a flower garden, so I really did skip, you see. Ah, it was the first time I'd ever skipped in my life, so it was far too unnatural.
Even Maa-chan was surprised by my behavior for a moment. It felt a little fresh, and amusing.

Soon after nine o'clock at night, we were lying in bed. The lights were off, and only a faint glimmer of some light leaked in from outside the window, enveloping us over the布団.
Mayu was already breathing softly in sleep, all the strength gone from her limbs.
The unfamiliarity of travel, combined with Mayu having jolted me awake at six in the morning, meant I felt I could fall asleep quickly too.
Sinking into the hotel bed without any incidents, I pulled Mayu close and drifted off to sleep.
In the moments before sleep took me, I thought about tomorrow. Mayu would probably wake up around noon, and then we'd go to the sea... I guess. We could probably see the sunset, so that should be fine.
Despite the scattered elements that hinted at incidents, we had managed to avoid them all.
Is there no malice in this city that would set its sights on Mayu? Or has someone else perhaps taken on that role? It's hard to believe that Maa-chan, who could easily star as the protagonist of a mystery manga completely uninterested in solving mysteries, would achieve peace through such an overly straightforward development as going on a trip out of town.
I feel as peaceful as if I've reached the ending credits roll in this hotel. Today, fate did not choose us. Or perhaps, I avoided fate. I can't shake the feeling that I haven't made any wrong choices. That's why I was able to greet the night, immersed in the correct answer of "nothing happened."
Because we're far from our hometown, it's like a special exception, a reset has occurred.
In that town, I'm already long finished. There are no choices.
.........Ah, Mayu's so nice to hug, you can't even feel her bones. It's like touching a high-quality towel right after it's been sun-dried. And since we used different shampoo and body soap than at the apartment, her scent is different from usual, which is also refreshing.... Huh, what was I thinking about?
Completely bewildered by the allure Mayu exudes, I inadvertently brought a hatchet down on my thoughts.
Ah, right, right. I was wishing that the hotel wouldn't get closed down tomorrow due to some paranormal phenomenon or natural disaster. And then, a body is discovered in another room, and for some reason the elevators stop working, and we're stranded on the seventeenth floor in a gruesome conflict... or something. I probably haven't shaken fate's pursuit enough to declare that impossible. And fate does not accept falsehoods.
Praying that tomorrow, too, Mayu and I would be blessed with the "non-ordinary" state of being safe and sound, I closed my eyelids.

The next day, Mayu hadn't woken up even as morning turned to noon, so I left a note and exited the room.
I needed to satisfy my hunger, and it also occurred to me that I should stock up on some drinks for the room. I probably should have bought them at the convenience store operating inside the hotel yesterday.
Today, I didn't encounter that college student-type on my way to the elevator. I rudely imagined he was probably dozing off in bed with those two ladies from the front desk, lined up like the character for "river" (川) or sprawled out like the character for "big" (大).
I tried to take the elevator down to the first floor, but it seemed to be designed to automatically stop once at the lobby floor, which was the third floor, and the doors opened. I figured I'd just take the escalator down from there and look for a restaurant, so I got out of the elevator.
The lobby was bustling with a different group of foreign tourists than yesterday. They seemed to be from the Middle East, judging by the words I overheard as I passed them. This hotel really seems to be a favorite among foreign guests.
As if blending in with that foreign group, there was a single Japanese person sitting on a long bench with a duralumin case by his side. It was Luigi-san. He was looking through a newspaper. That girl wasn't with him, and he was wearing the same green hat as yesterday, without any leaves, flowers, or a cape. Though, he did have a bruise on his cheek.
I hadn't particularly intended to greet him, but he looked up and our eyes met. He raised one hand in a "Hey," so, like a winged insect drawn to a streetlight, I drifted over to Luigi-san. Not that it matters, but the index finger of his raised hand was clumsily wrapped round and round with a band-aid. I wonder if he'd misused an unusually sharp knife and fork at the restaurant.
"Good morn... I mean, good afternoon."
When Mayu wakes up, if I don't greet her with "Good morning" instead of "Good afternoon" or "Good evening," she gets grumpy, so it's completely become a habit for me too.
According to Mayu, "A 'good morning' chu and a 'good night' chu are more 'ri-so-kei' (ideal) than a 'good afternoon' chu!"
"Yeah, good afternoon. That girl... Maa-chan, was it? She's not with you?" Luigi-san glanced around. He looked like even moving his neck was a bother.
"She's still sleeping."
"Hmm. Taking it easy, huh?" he murmured, as if envious.
"Are you checking out?"
"Ah, yeah, I'm heading home now. Just waiting for my companion to get back from the restroom."
"You're busy, I see." I felt a little surprised at myself for engaging in such insincere small talk.
"My work here is done. Too much unpaid overtime, turned into unwanted low-profit, high-volume stuff. At this rate, it's doubtful if I'm even covering travel expenses," he grumbled, feigning a lighthearted tone, then yawned, his face scrunching up.
"Yesterday, I was seriously sleep-deprived," Luigi-san grumbled.
"Did something happen?" With the girl? Of course, I censored that question.
Folding his newspaper, Luigi-san deliberately formed an exasperated expression just to show me how fed up he was.
From Hanasaki Tarou, who should have been about my age, I could make out several lines that had been etched by yesterday's supposed hardships. Wrinkles.
"You're pretty carefree, aren't you? What happened, you ask? Well..."

Tachibana Eiji (Novelist)
Sakurayama Eko (Housewife)
Shiina Kouji (Middle-aged Man)
Hanasaki Tarou (Detective) & Touki (Girl)
Tanetorii Hibiki (College Student)
Yamana Misato (Suicide Aspirant)

The case that was, for me, an unbelievably terrible, good-for-nothing incident had already begun.

**Front and Back: "The Reason Your Life Exists"**

Taneshima Hibiki (College Student)
Yamana Misato (Suicide Aspirant)

---
**Hanasaki Tarou (Detective) & Touki (Girl)**
**1:10 PM**

I was disappointed. Dejected, I pulled back my outstretched neck.
Sitting in an unreserved seat on the Shinkansen, I had been drawn in by the voice of a boy in the seat ahead, muttering as he read aloud. I’d tried to ascertain who he was reading to, but it was nothing remarkable—just a girl about his age.
She was probably a high school girl, seventeen or eighteen, with a certain mystique and a correspondingly pretty face. Her features seemed familiar, like I'd seen her somewhere before, but unfortunately, my memory isn't that great. That might be a professional disqualification, perhaps.
The boy next to her, holding open a picture book and reading from it, also looked to be around high school age. He, too, was a pretty boy with androgynous features, the kind who looked like he could have four or five girlfriends like her without even needing to resort to cellular division or anything. More beautiful than handsome, perhaps. They were a couple, both with refined looks, yet somehow exuding an air of instability.
Frankly, I was disillusioned. If he was reading a picture book, I'd expected his audience to be, at most, elementary school-aged.
Isn't human "growth" something that lasts until junior high, after which it's all "decline" once they hit high school?
"Why are you breathing so heavily?"
From the seat next to me, my companion, the girl, pointed out my indignation with an exasperated air, her gaze still fixed on the sea spreading outside the window. "It's nothing," I replied, while reaffirming to myself the beauty of her thirteen-year-old profile.
Ah, forgive my late introduction, but I'm a lolicon.
I have no particular intention of hiding this preference. Hiding something leads to accumulated stress. And that, in turn, would likely be detrimental to my health.
I aim to live a healthy life. I believe that's what leads to a fulfilling existence.
That's why I rarely tell lies, nor do I ever bother to conceal my desires. The fact that I can't drink alcohol due to my constitution, rather than preference, is also convenient.
Though, perhaps due to this personality of mine, it's a constant worry that most people who get along with me tend to be either lolicons or criminals. According to the girl next to me, "Isn't being a lolicon a crime in itself?" but that, I would say, is an assertion full of prejudice and misunderstanding. Well, elaborating on that would take too long, so I'll avoid it.
Still feeling down, I returned to the task of turning the pages of the paperback book lying open on my lap. I had picked up one of the author's works as preliminary research on the subject of my investigation before starting the job, but its content didn't match my idea of literature at all. The writing style was pointlessly verbose, the Japanese usage was questionable—hard to tell if it was intentional or just ignorance—and all the characters seemed to have a screw loose, their sharp edges grating against their brains.
I'm almost impressed, in a perverse way, that he managed to debut with a book like this. Cheers to the courage of the publishing company that let it happen.
According to the background check I ran, the author is apparently twenty-one this year. His name is Tachibana Eiji—a pen name, of course. His real name, well, there's a duty of confidentiality, so that's a secret.
But this book is hard to read. The first twenty pages or so were fresh in a way, but by the middle, I was honestly getting bored. The fact that I haven't developed a habit of reading probably has something to do with it.
It's been a while since I last rode a Shinkansen, too, and I feel somewhat restless.
The girl sitting next to me, apparently also tired of the scenery outside the window, pouted, "This is boring," and ordered, "Luigi, go buy me some tea." I, Luigi, silently stood up, bought a cold green tea from the vending machine in the passage between cars, avoided a salaryman waiting for the restroom and a mother with her child (a boy, unfortunately), and returned to my seat. Then, I offered the tea requested by 'Touki.'
Touki nodded contentedly, "Mmm-hmm," and pulled the tab on the green tea can. I felt a slight pang of worry that her long nails might break.
In this case, 'Touki' could mean 'Peach Princess' (桃姫) or 'Pottery' (陶器). Her real name is Momoko, but I treat her like a princess, partly in jest, and thus call her Momohime. She's thirteen, an age when she should normally be attending junior high school, but she refuses compulsory education for personal reasons. I act as her guardian, but I'm not in a parental position. That's because I want to treat her more as a lover than a daughter.
Touki is aware that I'm a lolicon, and I get the feeling she skillfully uses that emotion to her advantage. However, since her current appearance will only last another three years at most, I, conversely, greatly welcomed such effective use of her looks. I can't understand the mentality of keeping beautiful tableware on display without ever using it just because it's pretty.
Touki, who had been quiet for a while after drinking her tea, suddenly jumped up. Kicking off her mules, she put her feet on the seat and poked me. Then, leaning exaggeratedly over the seat in front, she spoke to them in a nasty tone.
"Hey, hey you! You've killed people, haven't you? Looots of them, *splaaat*!"
Touki started picking a fight with the girl in the front seat. Oh, not again, I sighed, exasperated.
Since Touki was kneeling on her seat and peering over the one in front, I couldn't see the high school girl's expression from my position. But it was almost certain she was having a troublesome reaction, so as a guardian, I had to get involved. It wasn't so much about looking after her; rather, her being a pain in the neck was the only troublesome thing about her.
Personally, rather than such a high school girl, I'd prefer to focus on the lovers' quarrel unfolding in the seats behind us between Yukippe (a pleasant young man type with uncool framed glasses) and Mikarin (a girl who's been furious from the start, so much so that you can't tell if her face is attractive when she's not angry). For now, it looks like Yukippe is being overwhelmed by Mikarin's incoherent "'I'm hurt! Everything hurt me!'" attack. Due to my line of work, I often encounter lovers' quarrels, but those usually involve one-sided accounts from the client. Being present at the actual confrontation is against the rules, anyway.