17 — What Was Grandpa Doing Back Then? (02)

Out of everything I could've done last night, the least stupid option was sitting right at the top of the list of things-you-logically-shouldn't-do-in-complicated-situations.

I'm not an avid reader to know exactly which chapter of a crime novel this kind of manual or advice shows up in, but given the circumstances—and the sheer number of thrillers I watched during my teenage years—it was common sense that you don't go back to a place where your enemies can find you.

And yet.

How was I supposed to explain the situation I was in?

Well…

There was only one answer:

I couldn't explain it.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come up with a plausible reason for doing this.

And yet, here I was, as if I'd already accepted my death, standing in front of my own door, holding my breath and doing everything I could to keep even the slightest noise from escaping my body.

That's when a thought crossed my mind: if Ichika-san, Mari, Lili, or whoever it was were on the other side of the door, it wouldn't make any sense for them to bother knocking. I couldn't see any courtesy in coming all the way here just to murder me, especially when it would be relatively easy to deal with someone like me.

So then…

What was going on?

Were they willing to talk?

Or were they just trying not to draw attention?

I honestly didn't know how to approach this, but either way, it didn't seem like I'd get anywhere by postponing my decision. So, without further delay, I opened the door... and, unlike what I expected, there was a completely unfamiliar person waiting for me.

"Hello."

A man with sunken eyes, short graying hair— no, let me correct that, slightly brown hair (I can't really say how accurate my description is, but the coloring caught my attention. He didn't look old at all, yet a large portion of his hair was gray while the rest wasn't), and an unshaven beard stood in front of me, wearing what looked like a worn-out suit.

"Sorry to bother you, but are you Kobami Haruki?"

I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to recognize him, until I reached the conclusion that I had absolutely no idea who he was.

But.

One thing was certain…

If he knew me, that wasn't a good sign... especially after what happened with Minami-san at the abandoned station.

Not that I'd call it trauma, but lately, you could never be too careful.

"Y-yes?"

"My name is Sawamura Naoto. I'm a private detective. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"A… detective?"

I swallowed.

My torso twisted as if I'd taken a punch straight to the stomach.

I pulled in as much air as I could through my mouth and let it out through my nose. No, that was wrong! I pulled it in through my nose and let it out through my mouth. Slowly. Again. And again. And again.

But I couldn't calm down.

It felt like no matter how much air I took in, it was never enough to complete a full breath.

"Hey, are you okay?"

What was this? Why was there a detective at my house? What happened? What about all that talk about the camera footage being deleted? Was I seen at some point? Did they sell me out? Did the matchstick recognize me? How was I supposed to explain this? If there was a detective here, it was obvious I was screwed. There was nowhere left to run. No way to hide. I was already a suspect.

And now, I was stuck between two paths.

On one side, I'd be dead.

On the other, I'd be arrested.

And maybe dead.

No— in both cases, I'd be dead.

What kind of bullshit situation was this?

"Kobami-kun? What's wrong? You're pale!"

The detective's voice started to drift farther and farther away.

My vision blurred.

Everything felt so cold…

Ah.

I hadn't noticed before, but there were actually two… detectives…? No… maybe three? Ah, what—

"Hey! Watch out!"

—and the image in front of me vanished completely.

◈ ━━━━━━━ ◆ ━━━━━━━ ◈

A strong smell of coffee filled my nose.

It was strange.

It hadn't been that long since I moved out of my parents' house, but waking up to that smell gave me an inexplicable sense of nostalgia.

Despite the nostalgia and the weirdness, it was a pleasant feeling.

That is, until it became very unpleasant, especially when I remembered I was trying to conserve my household supplies.

"Oh, you're awake, kid?"

Just as I thought.

It wasn't a dream.

That damn detective was now inside my apartment.

"Sorry for coming in without permission, but… well, I think the situation kind of forced my hand."

"Ah… it's fine. But what happened?"

"You gave me a scare. You fainted due to hypoglycemia. Sorry if this sounds rude, but… has it been a while since you last ate?"

Hypoglycemia?

"Hm… now that you mention it, I think my last meal was breakfast."

"Strange. You shouldn't have fainted if you had breakfast."

"Haha… yeah."

Well, I guess I forgot to mention it was yesterday's breakfast.

"Anyway, Kobami-kun, I wanted to ask you a few— eh… could you stop staring at my hair? I don't really mind if it happens occasionally, but it's a bit uncomfortable when you keep staring so intensely."

"S-sorry."

Even after calming down from fainting, I couldn't take my eyes off that detail.

"No need to apologize. I guess you're curious about it, huh?"

"A little…?"

"Well, it's not a fashion choice or anything… this was kind of an accident."

An accident?

What kind of accident would leave his hair like that?

"My wife was helping me dye it earlier, and we had a small tragedy during the bleaching process. As for the rest… I think the result speaks for itself."

"Pfft. Yeah, it does."

Okay, I definitely didn't expect that.

"It'd be cooler if you just said it was a style choice."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"Haha."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"..."

Ah, so that part wasn't a dream either.

This bastard was really using my supplies.

Well, what could I do? I just hoped he hadn't used too much powder.

"I don't know if it'll be to your liking, but I like my coffee really strong. Helps keep me awake."

"Ah, y-yeah. Thanks."

As I got up to head to the kitchen, I had to restrain myself from stabbing him.

An entire week's worth of coffee had been used to fill half a bottle.

"Y-yeah… it really is strong."

"Right?"

I refilled my cup and added a few sugar cubes. I tried my best not to waste too much milk, but no matter what I did, I couldn't make it any lighter. For a moment, I honestly questioned whether this was even consumable.

"Thanks for the coffee and for bringing me here... but now, could you tell me what I owe the pleasure of this visit to?"

"Yes, of course. Like I said before, my name is Sawamura Naoto. I'm a private detective. I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, if you don't mind."

Whether I minded or not didn't really matter.

Even though he said it with a friendly smile, it was obvious he wasn't here to mess around. I couldn't let myself be fooled by his tone, especially since the reason he was here was painfully obvious.

"What kind of questions could you possibly have for me?"

I tried to keep my composure, but my voice came out drier than I wanted.

"Hm? What's wrong? No need to be nervous. They're just some everyday questions."

"I-I'm not nervous. I just don't understand how I could be useful to you. And what do you mean by 'everyday questions'?"

"Haha. Don't take it too seriously. Whether you're useful or not, my job is to gather as much information as I can. So even if I don't get anything relevant, you could still help the investigation... even if it's just ruling out a wrong lead."

"I-I see. D-do you have a warrant?"

"A warrant? Do I need one? We're just talking. Nothing serious."

He wasn't wrong, but I still asked.

From his perspective, it was just a conversation. Without a warrant, I had no obligation to play along.

Which meant I could refuse…

I mean, could I?

Asking about a warrant was already suspicious enough.

So what would happen if I kept pushing back?

If I thought about it, the fact that he came here alone just to 'talk' meant he didn't have anything solid enough to incriminate me. If I refused to talk, I'd only make him push harder.

"Well… I guess you're right."

"I'm glad we're on the same page."

After saying that, Sawamura-san slung his bag strap over his shoulder and opened it on the living room table. We were sitting on the couch, and before I could finish my coffee, he'd already pulled out a small notebook.

"It's strange, isn't it?"

"What?!"

"Someone still using an old, battered notebook in 2027."

"Ah, yeah… I guess?"

This wasn't going to work. If I kept jumping at everything he said, I'd end up exposing myself.

I took a deep breath.

The best thing to do was stay calm.

(As hard as that was.)

"As they say, old habits die hard. We've been in the digital age for a while, but I still prefer good old analog. Since I work alone, it doesn't bother me much, but whenever I need to coordinate with others or cooperate with the police, they find it weird. What can you do, right?"

"Hm… I don't know much about that, but if you think about it, there are people like that. I guess it's about having something tangible to touch, instead of just a bunch of data."

"That's one way to put it. Now, if you don't mind me asking…"

He paused.

And in my mind, that pause felt like an eternity.

As he flipped through the pages, I thought I was about to have an anxiety attack, but then, without even looking up from the notebook, he asked:

"Kobami-kun… are you a mage?"

"A-a mage?"

I blurted it out stupidly. Not because I was trying to dodge the question, but because I was caught off guard by how casually he asked it.

"Don't misunderstand. I'm not trying to invade your privacy or anything. No citizen is obligated to share that information if they don't want to. I'm just asking out of curiosity. For the record, I'm not a mage."

"O-okay. I'd… prefer not to share that information, if possible."

"No problem."

That probably shot my suspicion meter up by at least twenty percent. I don't know where it started, but if it was at zero, it definitely wasn't anymore.

That was bad.

I started off on the wrong foot.

Being evasive was risky, but I didn't see how I could stay neutral. If this was some kind of test, saying I wasn't a mage would be stupid, just as I'd already seen the consequences of answering the opposite way.

"The topic of magic is complicated. Given the society we live in, it's normal for many people not to want to share that information, so I won't push it."

"Thank you."

"Now, for the second question, Kobami-kun…"

Once again, that pause.

But this time, something was different.

A cold sweat ran down my back, and for the first time during this conversation, I realized I'd made a massive mistake in perspective.

"Where were you on Tuesday, September 28th, 2027?"

…This man wasn't here for a friendly chat.