Romantic Troubles of Duanmu-kun

The Class Rep supported Misao’s other arm as they walked down the stairs together.

The Novelist followed behind them. While watching the slender figures of the two beautiful girls, his mind wandered to completely unrelated matters.

…He had recognized that modified off-road vehicle at first glance. It belonged to the hired killer from “VMO” who had once hunted down Yayoi and himself.

According to intelligence gathered afterward, the man was a retired race car driver who had left due to injury. While the other killers had vanished in the retaliatory action after Yayoi’s incident, only this one had survived, and they had never managed to find any trace of him.

So why had that vehicle appeared here?

What was the connection between the resident of Building Three, that old man, and the killer?

Recalling his conversation with Yayoi the day before coming here—or more precisely, in the early morning hours—he felt his temples beginning to throb.

…

The three returned to the living room. Kaori-san poked her head out from behind the kitchen door to greet them, then withdrew back inside without waiting for a response.

“I’ll go check on her.”

The concerned Class Rep naturally followed after her.

Only the lone male and Fujishima Misao, who couldn’t help due to her injured leg, remained in the living room. They sat down on the sofa simultaneously, both sighing without speaking to each other.

“Actually, it’s not without consequences.”

After a while, the Novelist spoke suddenly.

“…What?”

Misao looked at him with slight confusion.

“About calling the police. We don’t actually have any decisive evidence. If he’s cunning enough, and the police don’t find any bodies or other irregularities in his house or on his person, and if he truly is a dangerous individual, then after avoiding questioning, he might suspect someone informed on him. In that case, you and Kaori-san, being neighbors, could find yourselves in trouble and danger.”

“Eh— then what should we do?”

Fujishima Misao’s eyes widened; she clearly hadn’t considered this point.

“What indeed…”

In Misao’s eyes, the boy sitting opposite her had his gaze fixed on her. It wasn’t an appreciative look, and could hardly be called a lustful leer—it was more like he was coldly observing the outside world from within himself.

“Your stare is so perverted!”

To dispel this uncomfortable feeling, Misao had no choice but to put on a fierce expression and glare at him forcefully.

“…Is that so?”

At that, the Novelist raised his head again, staring at the empty ceiling.

What a pain, he thought.

“By the way, about the earlier deduction game.”

“…What about it?”

“During my turn. About the story I narrated, actually, if you look at it from the opposite direction, there’s another interpretation. But because Kaori-san happened to interrupt, I didn’t get to explain it.”

“This kind of game should naturally have multiple answers and interpretations…”

Fujishima Misao muttered softly, spreading her hands, but she eventually nodded.

“If you really want to tell me, I suppose I can be your audience… Besides, treating the person as some cruel, crazy serial killer earlier was really too much—shouldn’t you correct that now?”

“No, I certainly won’t change the puzzle’s content. If you can accept a shift in perspective, it should be easy to understand.”

The Novelist paused for a moment.

“Earlier, you and the Class Rep already mentioned that the ‘Fujishima’ in the puzzle must have been present at the dismemberment scene. Otherwise, just peeping through binoculars shouldn’t have allowed them to hear the sound of bones being crushed and flesh being torn. That’s not in question.”

“However, the person at the murder scene doesn’t have to be the killer—they could be the victim… right?”

“Eh? But, but wasn’t the victim already killed by the murderer?”

“That’s why, if you can accept the existence of a ‘dead person’s perspective’… or rather, the premise that ‘the narrator is already dead,’ then the positions can be completely reversed.”

The Novelist smiled kindly.

“In that case, ‘Fujishima’ is no longer a psychopathic killer, but rather an unfortunate person who was murdered and dismembered through a conspiracy of neighbors! The character roles are completely reversed! How about that? Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

“Better my foot!”

A pillow cut sharply through the air, mercilessly striking his nose and knocking the Novelist back onto the sofa.

Fujishima Misao quickly stepped on top of it. Through the soft pillow, she trampled on his face.

“Why does it have to be either killing everyone else or being killed and dismembered by others?! Isn’t there a gentler, more wholesome option?”

“Well… Kaori-san was that option. Since you were strongly opposed, I simply made her ‘disappear’ in the story… Come to think of it, wasn’t Fujishima-san herself the one who kept demanding immersion?”

Taking the pillow away, his expression was quite serious.

“Ugh…!”

Fujishima-san bit her lip, wearing an expression of having nothing to say. Unfortunately, girls had the option of being unreasonable at times like these, so his face endured several more flying pillow impacts.

“I see… So phrases like ‘feeling that your limbs don’t belong to you’ and ‘not feeling nauseated even when seeing a cruel dismemberment scene’ weren’t just descriptive or personality traits, but had another layer of literal meaning.”

After knocking down the Novelist and stepping on him again, Misao, clutching the pillow and slightly out of breath, collected herself and spoke thoughtfully.

“Oh right, that final line ‘Something must be wrong with my head’… was also misleading through its literal meaning, wasn’t it?”

“Mmph… that’s right…”

The boy, his head sunk into the sofa under her weight, responded indistinctly to her musings.

“…Hmm, I see. Heh heh.”

As if something had occurred to her, Misao’s expression relaxed and she seemed somewhat pleased, the corners of her lips turning up slightly before she quickly suppressed it.

Just as she was about to continue—

“Wh-what are you two doing?”

The surprised voice of the Class Rep, carrying a tray, rang out behind her.

“Ah… I was just punishing this guy!”

Misao, realizing her actions might have been a bit excessive, answered in a flustered manner and withdrew her foot.

She glanced down at him again, and judging by his expression, he didn’t seem angry. How strange. Could it be that he actually had the kind of qualities that stirred up sadistic urges in the opposite sex? Even though they’d been talking normally just moments ago.

Fujishima Misao unconsciously licked her lips.