Romantic Troubles of Duanmu-kun

This explained why the “protagonist” immediately turned to flee: if one of the couple was still alive, they could have thought of an explanation and shouldn’t have rashly acted against the “protagonist” who was their neighbor. But if in this mansion, only two unfamiliar strangers could be seen, and the original residents had all disappeared, something was clearly wrong.

The “protagonist” realized this and turned to run in order to avoid being silenced. As a result, they were killed by the culprit who reacted quickly. Moreover, the burial site in the garden was too large to contain just one body. Judging by the area, it should have been enough to accommodate two corpses.

“Hmm… in that case, what was the motive?” Class Rep’s face showed a puzzled expression.

Since both husband and wife were dead, the motive shouldn’t be infidelity leading to a crime of passion between men and women, but rather an outside culprit who carried out a planned murder against the couple in Building One. And that young man, along with the young woman who appeared at the end of the story, should be accomplices, right?

“Similar in nature to a robbery-homicide, the culprits were likely strangers with no social connection to the victim couple. The ‘protagonist’ witnessed a young man entering the mansion twice in the week before being killed, which was probably the culprit conducting reconnaissance, possibly waiting for the husband to return before taking action. That’s why the young wife didn’t notice his presence at all and naturally showed no unusual reaction.”

“As for the motive… since the culprits’ goal wasn’t property but these two people’s lives, it was probably a revenge killing, or perhaps they were hired assassins.”

The Novelist compared the story in his memory with the deduced truth, and after confirming there was nothing more to add, he poured the remaining hot water from his teacup down his throat.

From beside him, a fair hand reached out. Class Rep naturally took the cup from his hand and refilled it with hot water.

“Th… thank you…”

Why am I feeling embarrassed?!

“…Amazing!”

The light flickering in the girl’s dark pupils seemed even more intense than before.

“Well, is his answer correct?”

Though it was a question, Class Rep’s expression was already one of “certainty”… she seemed to have more confidence in him than the Novelist himself.

The Novelist pondered for a moment.

“By the way, Fujishima-san, if both our deductions are wrong, you’ll have to give us the correct answer in the end.”

Fujishima-san glared at him angrily.

“Wh-what? Even without your reminder, I wouldn’t cheat!”

So you did consider cheating!

“So it’s correct after all?”

“…In general, it’s not wrong…”

Fujishima Misao muttered softly, “Why did you guess it so quickly? I didn’t even give my next hint yet!” while sighing.

“However, personally, I’m more inclined to believe that the two culprits’ purpose was to replace the couple in Building One and live there, rather than simply a revenge killing or a contract murder… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

The interesting part of deduction games was that players’ answers could be vastly different. Due to the short length and fewer constraints, it left ample room for imagination.

There could be many logical and possible guesses, and there wasn’t necessarily a standard answer. Unlike real deductions performed by experts in reality, these games emphasized storytelling more.

Misao used her slender fingers to comb through her disheveled hair. The Novelist was inadvertently drawn to this gesture when he looked up at her.

“Alright, would you like to try now?” Fujishima-san quickly regained her spirits and looked at the other two with anticipation.

“Umm…” Class Rep’s expression showed difficulty. She probably hadn’t thought of something yet?

Come to think of it, it was quite challenging to come up with a story that had a complete logical chain and was attractive enough in the short time of conversation.

But as a professional, the Novelist didn’t want to back down on this.

He looked at his notebook and slowly began to speak.

“Let’s set the time at half a month ago. Fujishima-san, that’s when you started peeping, right?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Half a month ago, which was late May or early June, the climate in Tokyo was already quite warm. Fujishima-san was injured during a city competition and was recovering at home—”

As you can see, my name is Fujishima Misao.

A second-year student at Yuihara High School. On the surface, I’m a beautiful girl, and at heart, I’m a thoroughly beautiful girl who’s super popular. My bust size is… I’m sorry, just kidding. I’m not going to tell you that.

I have a young and beautiful mother who doesn’t look like a high school student’s mother at all… Eh? It’s not important? Or is it too important to mention? W-well, if the real “Fujishima-san” says so… ahem.

Back to the topic.

Recently, I’ve discovered a pervert—I mean, a very healthy new hobby, which is peeping at the lives of residents in the neighboring mansions.

Building One housed an elderly husband and his young wife. In my view, rather than a normal couple, they were more like a successful middle-aged man and his mistress. The man was rarely home, appearing only two or three times a week.

Building Two had a family of three who just moved in recently. They were quite ordinary in all aspects—the husband was a company employee, the wife was a housewife, and the daughter was a middle school student attending a nearby school.

Building Three had an elderly person living alone. Outside his door, besides a garden, there was also a large lawn. Sometimes I could see him using a lawnmower to trim the grass.

The resident of Building Four was a handsome young painter around thirty years old. He loved drinking, and I often saw him in a drunken state.

Building Five housed a high school boy with a face full of acne and his elderly mother. By the way, that guy always looked timid and showed a disgusting smile whenever he saw me… I really hated it.

Building Six was my home.

I believe that the act of peeping stems from curiosity about the “other side” that others might expose in private. Since it was driven by pure hobby, it certainly wasn’t a 24-hour surveillance.

Moreover, even if I could see their actions and expressions, without being able to hear their conversations, it was often difficult to guess the truth and the complete picture of events. This part still needed to be filled in through imagination.

Perhaps these areas that left room for interpretation added to the pleasure of peeping—that’s what I used to think. Until one day, a scene that could be completely understood without sound was abruptly presented before me.

For instance, accidentally witnessing a murder scene…

Or something like that.