Chapter 17

One week had passed since then. Removing his earbuds, Naoya Fukamachi heard the sound of cicadas fill his ears. He squinted against the intense rays of the summer sun as he looked up at the large cherry tree in front of the university library. The tree was a well-known spot at Seiwa University during the spring, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, but in the summer, it served as a gathering place for choirs of cicadas. The droves of cicadas clinging to the tree’s trunk and branches were visible even at a glance, and the sight made Naoya a little weary. He wondered why becoming an adult inspired such a sentiment in him, when he had often enjoyed catching cicadas for fun as a child. Was it that their singing—a sound practically synonymous with summertime—made the heat feel just that much more intense? Naoya shoved his earbuds into the pocket of his bag and, urged on by the cicadas’ chirping, went into the library. The inside of the building seemed oddly dim after his walk under the glaring sun, and Naoya’s eyes blinked repeatedly behind his glasses. With the midsummer heat and humidity shut out and the air-conditioning working almost a little too well, the library interior was cool and dry. There were few other people around. The first-floor reading corner, usually so crowded that it was difficult to find an open seat, was practically empty at this time of year. Though the period generally known as the Obon holiday was over, college students’ summer break was not. There were likely students throughout the country who filled the long vacation period of about two months with leisure, travel, and club activities. The rest of the student population, however, had to figure out what to do with all that free time. As a result, many of them took on extra part-time work. Claiming a seat in the corner, Naoya took a stack of papers and a red pen from his bag. He worked part-time grading papers for a correspondence cram school. He could have done the job at his apartment, but coming to the university was something to do, at least, and it helped save on air-conditioning costs at home. Referring to the answer key, Naoya marked the scoring sheets with circles and x’s in red pen. Though he had to take care not to make any mistakes, it wasn’t work that required a great deal of brainpower. As long as he focused on keeping his pen moving, it was over in no time. In other words, it was a job he could manage to do even if there was something else occupying his thoughts. The reading corner faced the campus courtyard, and Naoya had a good view of the outside through the large library windows. He glanced at the faculty building that was visible on the other side of the courtyard. …Since returning from Nagano, Naoya hadn’t seen Takatsuki at all. Even now, thinking back on it, the whole thing was like a bad dream. That midnight festival under the glow of those blue lanterns. That dark forest where he had run for his life. The inky blackness of Yomotsu Hirasaka. Not a single one of those scenes felt real now, but Naoya knew he had definitely experienced them. The worst nightmare of them all, however, came after he somehow managed to return alive from the whole ordeal. “Akira. Answer me. What is today’s date?” “The date? It’s August fourteenth—isn’t it?” Takatsuki, having suddenly lost consciousness, regained it in the car on the way home. He answered Sasakura’s question with an uneasy tilt to his head. “Why are you asking me that? We’re going to Nagano today, right? To investigate the festival Fukamachi told us about.” Sasakura stared ahead in silence, grim faced. Staring back at Takatsuki from the passenger seat, Naoya had no clue what to say and ultimately kept quiet as well. Perhaps sensing something was off from their behavior, Takatsuki reached hurriedly into his pocket, fumbling for his phone. Taking it out, he stared fixedly at the date displayed on the screen. “August…sixteenth?” Takatsuki looked back up at them, his expression utterly stiff. “Hey. What happened to me?” “…I’m going to pull over for now,” Sasakura said. And so they parked the car in the lot of a service area, and without even getting out of the vehicle, the three of them reviewed what Takatsuki remembered against the past few days’ events, like a “spot the differences” puzzle. They told Takatsuki what occurred in Nagano, one thing after another, but he merely shook his head, dazed. His memories seemed intact through the morning of the fourteenth, when the last thing he remembered was leaving his apartment. Everything after that, Takatsuki had forgotten. “…It’s no use. I can’t remember,” Takatsuki murmured, grabbing handfuls of his own hair. “Everything you just told me…I don’t remember any of it.” He continued to run his hands roughly through his hair, his face pale and downturned. Each time he shoved his long fingers recklessly into his disheveled locks, it looked like he was trying to thrust them into his own skull, making Naoya more and more fearful. “Professor. Please calm down… Maybe if you rest a little.” But even as he said that, Naoya knew it wouldn’t offer much comfort. Takatsuki’s memory loss was likely not due to fatigue or temporary confusion. It was his fault. The one with the shining blue eyes—the other Takatsuki. Suddenly, Takatsuki raised his head. “Right,” he said. “Let’s go back.” “What’d you say?” Sasakura turned to Takatsuki with a fierce frown. Leaning forward toward the driver’s seat, Takatsuki made his case in a rush of words. “Come on. Let’s go back right now. We’ll investigate again. I want to hear more from this old man Nakamura. If we go back to where that festival happened, we might still be able to find some traces of it—” “—That’s enough, Akira!” Sasakura’s angry shout resounded throughout the car. Takatsuki stiffened in shock, looking like he had been slapped in the face. His already vicious gaze twisting into something even more dreadful, Sasakura glared at the professor. “Go back? Are you kidding me? As if I’d let you go back to that place ever again!” “…But, Kenji—” “You almost died, you know,” Sasakura interjected in a low voice, before Takatsuki could say another word. “You and Fukamachi.” Takatsuki’s shoulders jerked once more in alarm. “Oh…” Eyes wide, he looked at Naoya. The blood seemed to drain further from his pale cheeks. The statement Sasakura had just made was a cruelly aimed blow to Takatsuki’s heart. It was perhaps too merciless a move against someone with no memory of the incident whatsoever, but there was probably nothing else that could be said that would have stopped Takatsuki. Naoya heard the sound of Sasakura’s teeth grinding together coming from beside him. The other man had taken that shot at Takatsuki knowing just how it would affect him, Naoya thought. At that midnight festival, Takatsuki had tried to offer up his own lifespan in Naoya’s stead. He’d done so readily, as if it was the most natural thing to do. “I have to take responsibility. I’m the one who suggested we come here. I invited you. I’m the one who put you in danger.” Takatsuki himself no longer remembered saying those words to Naoya or refusing to allow him even a single objection. But Naoya got the feeling those words weren’t just a one-off, in-the-moment kind of thought. Takatsuki must have felt that way in general, that he was the one who had dragged Naoya into the situation. And if something like what Sasakura revealed was said to somebody who believed that—if he thought Naoya had almost died because of him—there was no way he would keep fighting. “…I’m sorry,” Takatsuki whispered, looking down, his messy bangs hiding his face from view. “The festival is already over. We’re going back to Tokyo,” Sasakura said, softening his voice somewhat. Takatsuki’s only response was a quiet “okay.” A high-pitched electronic noise echoed through the eerily still library, startling Naoya, who had been lost in memories of the past, to his senses. A cell phone was ringing. It wasn’t his. “Hello, Hiroki…? Yeah, I can talk a little.” Naoya heard someone answer the phone and begin a conversation. It sounded like a female student speaking. She was probably just on the other side of the bookshelves right behind him. Even though her voice was hushed, the library was so quiet, he could still hear what she was saying. “Now? I’m at school. The library… No, it’s fine. I’m preparing a presentation for my seminar’s group trip… What, tonight…? Ahh, sorry, I have work tonight.” The girl’s voice abruptly distorted. It varied wildly in pitch, warping, as if a machine had applied some chaotic filter to it, and becoming an unpleasant racket that was nothing like its original sound. Naoya covered his ears reflexively. “Sorry, I’m in the library right now, so… You know, if I stay on the phone for a while, it’ll bother the other people here… Yep… Yeah, okay, talk to you later.” A slender female student emerged from behind the bookshelf. A book in one arm and putting away her phone with the other, she walked over to a reading desk a short distance away. Naoya’s gaze followed her vaguely as she sat down next to a male student who was sitting by himself. The two of them began talking. He couldn’t tell what they were saying because of the distance, but he could see that the girl was wearing a smile, as if the two of them were quite close. Naoya didn’t know what her relation was to the person on the phone just now or to the boy she was sitting next to. What he knew was that the girl had turned down whatever the person on the phone had invited her to with a lie. She may just not have been in the mood, or perhaps she was trying to ward off a man who wouldn’t stop asking her out. She could even have been thinking about how to break up with her current boyfriend at that very moment. Regardless, to her, the lie was probably a mere trifle. Everyone lied. They did it easily, not even particularly consciously, thinking they were unlikely to be found out. The one those lies weighed on was Naoya, who could hear any sort of lie someone told. His ears turned lies into unpleasant, grating noise. Looking away from the pair, Naoya took his earphones from his bag and jammed them in his ears. It had been one week since he returned from Nagano. His daily life since then was exactly as it had been before. He woke up in the morning, ate, did laundry, made his way to the university before it got too hot, studied, and worked at his part-time job. Depending on the day, he might go shopping, browse around a bookstore, or go see a movie, but he generally didn’t speak to people very much. When he was walking around town or riding the train, he plugged up both ears with his headphones. If he didn’t, he was bound to hear whenever someone’s voice warped. It was almost anticlimactic how much nothing had changed, he thought. From the start, Naoya hadn’t expected his ears to return to normal because he went to Nagano, but still. He remembered what Tooyama had said to him before the trip: “I believe we have no choice but to keep living with these ears of ours. Going back to how we were isn’t an option anymore.” Tooyama had asked what point there was in trying to find out the truth despite those circumstances. And in response, Naoya had said that he just wanted to know. He had wanted to know for so long. Just what was that festival that he had wandered into once as a child? When he went to Nagano, he found out. The dead who, not just in legend, really did return to this world. The mountain god who controlled them. The mountain that led to the underworld. The blue lantern festival held to pacify the dead. The otherworldly festival grounds that formed as a result of it all. He realized that what he had seen was not a dream, an illusion, or a delusion, but something that actually happened—something that had been happening in that village for a long, long time. When Naoya returned from the slope that led to the underworld, his grandfather had asked him: “Now that you know, are you satisfied?” Naoya’s answer had been that it was better than not knowing. But was that really the case? As the days passed since their return from Nagano, he grew less and less sure. What point had there been to their trip, when things had changed so little? Wouldn’t it actually have been better if they hadn’t gone at all? …At the very least, for Takatsuki’s sake. Recalling how Takatsuki had been when he saw him last, Naoya ran his fingers roughly through his hair. Afterward, in the car on the way back, Takatsuki had hardly made a sound. He merely stared blankly out the window, his face pale. They made it back within Tokyo city limits, and Naoya, the first one getting dropped off, turned to Takatsuki at the last second and asked, “Are you okay?” Takatsuki looked at him, smiled a little awkwardly, and simply said, “Well, see you.” He didn’t answer Naoya’s question. At that moment, he probably hadn’t been the least bit okay. Since then, Naoya hadn’t seen Takatsuki at all. The professor hadn’t really been in contact, and Naoya had no idea what to say to him, so he hadn’t been able to go to Takatsuki’s office. Naoya looked out the window again. Probably because it was summer break, the courtyard, where various club activities were usually in full swing, was quite empty. The campus felt strangely deserted as a result, but the faculty building stood there, unchanged. Takatsuki’s office was on the third floor. Takatsuki was probably there, in that room that always smelled a little like a secondhand bookstore, surrounded by tall bookshelves. Naoya got the feeling that if he opened the door to that room, he would see Takatsuki, smiling as always, looking his way with a mug of sweet marshmallow cocoa in hand. Knowing the professor, he may actually have been doing just fine. I should go to the office after all, Naoya thought. He wasn’t getting anywhere just sitting around, endlessly thinking about it. Packing his things away quickly, Naoya was heading for the library exit when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It wasn’t a text; someone was calling him. He looked at the name on the screen in surprise. It was Sasakura. Sasakura had never called him before. Naoya jogged hurriedly to the entrance hall and answered the call. “Yes, this is Fukamachi.” “Hey, you busy?” Sasakura asked, first thing, in his somewhat husky voice. “Wh-what’s up? This is sudden.” “Sorry, but I was wondering if you could go check on Akira if you have time.” “…Pardon?” Naoya figured the call probably had something to do with Takatsuki, but why was Sasakura going out of his way to make that sort of request of him? The man was indeed a bit overprotective of Takatsuki, but still. Naoya exited the library and started walking toward the faculty building. “I was actually just going to his office, so I don’t mind, but… Um, don’t tell me, is the professor still really bad off?” “I dunno if I would say that, but…” Sasakura hesitated for a moment. Naoya heard him sigh, and then— “…After we got back from the trip, he was laid up in bed for a while. He had a fever.” “What?” Naoya stopped in his tracks. “I’ve been busy, so I’ve only been able to go check on him once. He told me it was fatigue, but who knows?” Naoya thought of how pale Takatsuki looked when they parted ways—how utterly not fine he had looked. He might already have been ill at that moment. “Um, has he gone to the doctor or anything?” “He did go, just to be safe, but apparently it’s not a cold. When I went to see him, I got the feeling the fever reducer wasn’t working much. I called him earlier, and he said his fever was down, but I don’t think he’s back to shipshape. So even if you do go to his office, he won’t be there. I think he’s probably still taking it easy at home.” “It’s really that bad?” Takatsuki lived alone. Naoya knew just how helpless it felt to be sick when one lived alone. “Could you just go over to his place and check on him?” Sasakura asked. “When I’m there, he just says he’s fine and not to worry… But with you, he’ll be honest, right?” Despite typically having no compunctions about imposing on others, in situations like these, Takatsuki was weirdly reticent. Not wanting to bother people or make them worry, he would pretend to be okay, even if it meant lying. But Takatsuki never lied in front of Naoya. Even now, he continued to stick to that promise. Nevertheless—that didn’t mean he always told the complete truth, either. “…I feel like if I ask, he’ll just find a way to dodge the question.” “That’s why I want you to go ask him directly.” “Got it. I’ll go now.” “Sorry to ask this of you. I’ll buy you a meal sometime soon.” “It’s no big deal. I’ve been worried about him, too… By the way…” All of a sudden, Naoya was curious. “Mr. Sasakura—you know about my ears?” Naoya didn’t remember ever telling Sasakura about his ability. The other man was silent. Eventually, sounding a bit awkward, he muttered, “…Akira told me a while back.” “Ahh, that makes sense.” “Sorry. You were always holding your ears and looking sick, so I wondered. I asked Akira about it.” “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I heard about the professor’s past from you, after all… Anyway, Mr. Sasakura.” Naoya had never heard Sasakura’s voice distort. He just wasn’t the type to lie much, Naoya had thought. But what if…? What if this whole time, he was just being extra careful around Naoya? “Mr. Sasakura… You’re a good guy. Really.” “Where’s this coming from? You’re creeping me out.” “Your face is scary, though.” “You don’t have to go that far.” If their conversation had been in person, Sasakura might have smacked Naoya over the head. In the end, Sasakura said, “I’m counting on you to check on Akira, got it?” before cutting the call. He really was a nice person. Takatsuki lived in Yoyogi, in a spacious six-story apartment building. Naoya had been there several times, so he knew where it was. After speaking with Sasakura, he headed straight for Yoyogi, but he realized something as he came to stand in front of the apartment building. He had come here without giving any prior warning to the professor. Was it okay to suddenly drop in on someone who might not be feeling well? Sasakura would probably have just walked inside without a care, but that was likely the sort of familiarity that came with being childhood friends. After waffling over the issue for a while in front of the entrance, Naoya took out his phone. He figured he would try calling first. He’d feel bad if he woke Takatsuki up, but it was probably better than just ringing his intercom out of the blue. The call connected after three rings. “…Hello? Fukamachi, is something wrong?” Takatsuki answered the phone in a mildly surprised voice. He sounded more like his usual self than expected, which was a relief. “U-um…Mr. Sasakura told me, uh, that you had a fever.” “What? Why’d KenKen have to go and tell you that…? So you made a note to call me? Thank you for the concern, but my fever is already down, so I’m fine.” His voice didn’t warp. His fever really was gone. “That’s good, but… But, um. Mr. Sasakura told me to come check on you myself.” “Huh?” “So I’m outside of your apartment building right now.” “Huh? What is this, ‘Mary’s Phone Call’?!” Takatsuki’s surprise was full-blown that time. It was extremely characteristic of him to reference an urban legend in a moment like this. Naoya thought he heard a small sigh on the other side of the line. I am bothering him after all, he thought. “Um, I’ll just go home. Sorry for coming here without any warning.” “…Huh, ah, s-sorry, Fukamachi! Don’t worry about that! I’ll buzz you in right now, so come on up.” “But—” “You’re already here. I’m not just going to turn you away. Besides—I was hoping to talk to you, too, so your timing is perfect. I want you to tell me,” Takatsuki said, “about what happened in Nagano again. About the things I forgot.” Naoya took the elevator up to the fourth floor, where Takatsuki’s apartment was, and at last rang his intercom. Takatsuki opened the door at once. “Welcome, Fukamachi. Please come in.” He ushered Naoya inside with his usual smile. Judging from what he was wearing—a shirt and slacks—and the absence of bedhead, Takatsuki hadn’t been sleeping when Naoya called. It was somehow like the professor to be dressed so neatly even in his own home, though Naoya would have liked to see Takatsuki in some loose-fitting loungewear at least once. “I’m sorry. KenKen is so overprotective, making you come all the way here like this.” “I understand his urge to be overprotective toward you a little bit.” “Hold on, am I really that bad?! I’m trying to do my best, you know…” Peeved, Takatsuki grumbled as he showed Naoya to the living room. A faintly sweet smell wafted through the living room air. Naoya recognized the scent from Takatsuki’s office. It seemed the professor only drank cocoa at home, too. Despite the fact that he had been ill, it didn’t surprise Naoya to see that the apartment was clean. Takatsuki came across as a very tidy person, and his office at school was always orderly (except for when Ruiko messed it up). Even the kitchen, which Naoya caught a glimpse of on his way to the living room, was free from clutter, apart from a tin of cocoa. “It’s hot outside, right? I’m out of coffee, but I’ll make you an iced tea if you’d like.” “Oh, you don’t have to do that… I mean, you’re still recovering, so you should be resting.” “I can do this much. Besides, I’m going to be having you talk a lot, so you’d better have something to drink. I’ve already boiled some water.” With that, Takatsuki went into the kitchen. Apparently, he was making the iced tea from tea leaves, not from bottled black tea. Naoya was the one dropping in to check on Takatsuki, so maybe he should have brought some sort of gift. Feeling a bit remorseful, Naoya sat on the sofa. As things stood, he may as well have just been visiting Takatsuki in his office like usual. A tad restless, Naoya looked around the room. Just like his office, Takatsuki’s spacious living room was filled with books. In addition to a large built-in bookshelf, there were several smaller bookcases that were probably added to the space later. Unlike the office, there were lots of books that weren’t research texts or reference materials. As he gazed upon the shelves lined with large photo books and novels, Naoya recalled the first time he had been in this apartment. At the time, he had been a little surprised that Takatsuki had so many books at home. With the professor’s memory, he should have been able to discard every book he read once he was finished with it. After all, he could remember anything he read once exactly, word for word. The fact that he kept said books close at hand was probably due to his really loving them. There was even a book he seemed to be in the middle of reading sitting out on the low table in front of the sofa. The book, with a carefully placed bookmark in its pages, was a novel that had been published some years prior. It was a love story, one Naoya had read, too, about a man and a woman who, reincarnated again and again, continued to search for each other throughout time. Perhaps noticing that Naoya had picked the book up, Takatsuki called out from the kitchen. “Are you interested in that one? You read a lot, too, don’t you, Fukamachi? You can borrow that if you’d like.” “Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have just grabbed it without asking. I’ve actually read this book before, too.” “Ah, I see. I like that book. It’s been a long time since I first read it, but I still reread it now and then.” “You read a lot of novels, huh, Professor? You even reread them.” “Yep. If I like it, I’ll read a book over and over.” He was no different from anyone else in that respect, Takatsuki said. Tapping his own temple lightly with one finger, he added, “Of course, in my case, the contents are all stored in my head like a photograph. But sometimes the emotions I feel differ from one read to another, and some books make me cry at the same parts no matter how many times I’ve read them… I guess it’s not enough just to have the story memorized. That’s how it is with sentimental things, you know.” Takatsuki gave a soft chuckle as he poured tea from the pot into a glass, over a mountain of ice. “But that’s why I have a hard time getting rid of books. KenKen gets fed up with me sometimes, asking why I keep buying more books when I already have so many at home. But me, I think books are a nice thing to have a lot of.” “Mr. Sasakura doesn’t seem like the type to read much.” “You’re right,” Takatsuki said. “KenKen is likely to fall asleep as soon as he starts a book.” Come to think of it, Naoya recalled Takatsuki saying something similar when they were at the library in Nagano. The professor returned from the kitchen and set a glass of iced tea down in front of Naoya. “Here you go. Sorry there’s no straw.” “Oh, thank you,” Naoya said, looking at Takatsuki’s face again. He looked a little thin. He was usually slender, but his complexion wasn’t great, either. He must have still been feeling under the weather after all. Takatsuki grinned. “You don’t need to look so concerned. I might still look a little sick, since I was feverish for a while, but I am feeling a lot better now.” “…That’s good, I guess.” “More importantly, could you tell me about it? About what you saw in Nagano, what you felt. I’d like you to tell me again, in detail.” Takatsuki sat down on the sofa. In one hand, he had a mug of cocoa with marshmallows floating in it, just like when he was in his office. As requested, Naoya talked. Mainly about what happened after they went to the village once known as Koyama. Holding his mug of cocoa in both hands, Takatsuki listened to Naoya speak. Every once in a while, he interrupted with a question, but he never took a sip of his cocoa. Takatsuki’s eyes began to take on a blue tinge when the story reached the part about the midnight festival. As the story progressed, those eyes, staring straight at Naoya, grew even more indigo. Remembering that Takatsuki’s gaze had also turned blue that day, just before he lost his memories, Naoya felt a chill run down his spine. And yet the man leaning forward slightly, face serious as though he was concentrating, intending to catch every single word Naoya said, was undoubtedly the usual Takatsuki. He was nothing like the expressionless, doll-like “other” Takatsuki. Suddenly, something struck Naoya as curious. Why was it that, back then, Takatsuki’s eyes hadn’t taken on the color of the night sky even once? Not when they were at the blue lantern festival, nor when they were descending Yomotsu Hirasaka. Naoya remembered the professor’s eyes being dark brown the entire time. He still wasn’t quite sure under what circumstances Takatsuki’s eyes turned blue, but for some reason, he couldn’t help but find it strange that they hadn’t changed at those times. After all, they were glimpses of the other world that Takatsuki was always longing to see. Wasn’t it odd for those eyes, which seemed to try to peer into all that Takatsuki wanted to know, to miss out on something like that? Takatsuki gazed intently at Naoya, listening. His night-sky eyes glowed faintly, as if countless stars twinkled deep within them. Naoya had the feeling that somewhere in there, the other Takatsuki was also listening carefully to his tale. Ah, he thought then, realizing. I see. Takatsuki had lost his memories, so he had no recollection of what Naoya was talking about. And the other Takatsuki, too. He hadn’t been watching, so he probably didn’t know, either— About what happened after they had been called to that midnight festival. That’s why he was listening quietly to Naoya from inside Takatsuki. As if to prove as much, when the story reached the part where morning came, Takatsuki’s eyes returned at some point to their normal color. When Naoya was done talking, Takatsuki sighed and leaned back into the sofa. Slowly, he brought his cold cocoa, into which the marshmallows had already completely melted, to his mouth. “…What a pain. I really can’t remember any of that.” At a loss, Takatsuki gave a small laugh, his gaze shifting. He looked toward the living room door. “The morning of the fourteenth,” he said, voice quiet. “I finished preparing for the trip and left through that door.” Naoya turned his gaze in that direction, too. It was like he could see Takatsuki on that day, walking toward the door with his packed bags in hand. His expression was as cheerful as ever, and his steps were light. “As I was walking toward the front door, I got a call from KenKen. He told me to come down because he was outside the apartment building. It was just a little earlier than the time we originally agreed on.” After hanging up on Sasakura, Takatsuki put his shoes on in a bit of a rush. Then he opened the door to his apartment and went outside. “That’s it. That’s all I remember.” The image of Takatsuki from that morning that Naoya had been picturing, like some sort of phantom, suddenly vanished. “My next memory is from the car on the way home. You turned to me with a worried look on your face, and KenKen asked me what the date was.” Shaking his head idly, Takatsuki took another sip of cocoa. His face looked even paler than before. “…Are you okay? Professor?” Naoya asked. Takatsuki laughed ambiguously and didn’t answer. He drank his cold cocoa again, looking like he really wasn’t enjoying it. “I-I’ve always wanted to know. Do real supernatural phenomena exist in this world…? And to be right in the middle of one and not remember it? It’s too much. On top of that, to finally regain my lost memories only to lose them again.” Takatsuki was obsessed with the supernatural because he wanted to solve the mystery of his being spirited away in the past. It seemed that at Yomotsu Hirasaka, he had regained his memories from that period of his life. But those memories had been snatched away from him again. By the other Takatsuki. “What in the world is this ‘other’ me?” Takatsuki mused bitterly. “Professor…were you already aware of the ‘other’ you?” Naoya asked. “Yeah, I knew something like that existed within me. I have no recollection of the times the ‘other’ me appears. I realized it later when people in my life pointed it out… That sort of thing never happened before I was spirited away.” Which meant it was indeed a phenomenon connected to Takatsuki’s past. “Pragmatically speaking, this is what someone would call ‘multiple personalities.’ Considering what happened to me, something like that wouldn’t be particularly surprising. I may have created another identity within me to protect myself from the stress of the abuse or offense. I was actually brought to a doctor because I was suspected of having dissociative identity disorder. They tried hypnotherapy and psychological counseling and all sorts of things, but the ‘other’ me never emerged in those settings, and none of the treatments were especially effective. And besides, even if it were dissociative identity disorder, for even my eye color to change…that’s a bit much.” Takatsuki spoke in a disinterested tone, tracing the cocoa stuck to the rim of his mug with his finger. “But considering what happened with this incident, it would seem this ‘other’ me is indeed the one responsible for erasing my memories of the past. Moreover, that was apparently done in accordance with some sort of promise.” Naoya remembered, at the time, the other appearing as if taking complete control of Takatsuki and saying, “You mustn’t. You must not remember. That would be violating our agreement, Akira.” What kind of agreement had been made in the past? And for what purpose had it been made? “There’s something else. One more thing I learned from this,” Takatsuki said. “The words I said before the ‘other’ me appeared. I said, ‘that person,’ didn’t I?” At Yomotsu Hirasaka, Takatsuki relived the memory that involved the scars on his back. At the time, he said he saw a big hand. “I was crying so much and saying I wanted to go home, and I was told— ‘If you want to go home that badly, I’ll send you back.’ Then that person patted my head with that big hand, and then, to my back—” That was where Takatsuki’s words had cut off in the moment. “Saying ‘that person’ might imply that what happened to me wasn’t a case of kamikakushi but just an ordinary kidnapping. Or perhaps there was something that I, as a child, would have perceived as a ‘person.’ Regardless, it means someone else was involved in my disappearance at the age of twelve. I didn’t just disappear—I was taken by someone.” Takatsuki’s grip on his mug tightened. His downturned eyes shone darkly. But that tension melted away in an instant, and the professor calmly returned the mug to the table. “But that’s all I’ve learned. In the end, I still don’t know any of the crucial details.” Takatsuki covered his face with a hand. “…It’s hopeless. No matter what, every time I think about it, I feel like I’m losing my resolve.” Behind his palm, Takatsuki let out a weak breath. Noticing a slight trembling in that hand, Naoya felt his heart clench. “No matter how badly I want to know, no matter how hard I try to find out, the same thing may happen again in the future. Even if I find the truth I’m seeking, the other me may erase my memory over and over again, and that could be the end of it. If that’s the case, what am I supposed to do now? What I’m doing…is there any meaning in it?” The desire to know was Takatsuki’s raison d’être. This man lived his life fueled by his drive to find out the truth of his own past. For him to work tirelessly to recover his missing memories only to lose them again—what worse outcome could there be? On top of that, the threat resided inside Takatsuki himself. “…Ah, this really is terrible… I really did not want you to see me looking this pathetic.” Takatsuki smiled awkwardly, taking his hand away from his face. You don’t have to smile even in times like this, Naoya thought, dropping his gaze. Why, when both his physical strength and willpower were nearly exhausted, when he looked so miserable, was this man still trying to smile? But even so, Naoya thought this might have been the first time Takatsuki had allowed himself to complain in front of him. In that case, was there something Naoya could do? For the professor in this moment? Before, it was always Naoya who was being protected and helped. In the Chofu kamikakushi incident, Takatsuki put himself in harm’s way to shield Naoya from their attackers, and when Naoya caught a cold and ended up with an ear infection, Takatsuki showed up at his apartment and took care of him. It was the same in Nagano. If the professor hadn’t chased after him when he was being lured away into the underworld, Naoya was certain he wouldn’t be here now. Naoya’s gaze shifted back upward. He looked at Takatsuki. His cheeks were pale. His jaw was slightly leaner. His eyes, usually bright and sparkling, were now dark and cloudy. Takatsuki looked weaker than Naoya had ever seen him, but it was already past time to be shaken by that. There had to be some kind of way to cheer him up. Then—Naoya realized something. “Professor.” The only scent in the room was that of cocoa. Naoya thought of the glimpse of the kitchen he had caught before. How neat and tidy it was. Not a single plate in the dish drainer, no pots or pans out. The only thing on the counter was the cocoa tin. “Professor… Are you eating enough?” Takatsuki’s shoulders gave a little twitch. Naoya asked again. “Have you had a meal?” “…Ah-ha-ha.” “Don’t act like it’s a joke!” Naoya couldn’t help raising his voice. He had arrived at the apartment after noon. It would have made sense for there to be signs of someone eating lunch, or at least signs of breakfast being cleared. He should have realized when he saw none of that. “Umm, well, I haven’t been very hungry.” “Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten this entire time?!” “No, of course not! I was eating premade porridge and soups at first, and then when KenKen came over, he made me an egg rice porridge! But, well…even after my fever went down, I was feeling tired, so it was a bit difficult.” “Then don’t try to live on cocoa alone! That’s how you end up losing weight and looking sick!” Takatsuki seemed to be trying to evade the issue by missing the point entirely, and Naoya glared at him, utterly fed up. No wonder Sasakura was forced to be so overprotective, he thought. “Ugh, fine… How about I make you something?” “Huh?” “As long as you don’t mind my using the contents of your kitchen and fridge.” “That’s fine, but really? You’re going to make something for me, Fukamachi?” “Just don’t expect anything fancy.” Naoya wished Takatsuki wasn’t looking at him all wide-eyed in astonishment. He lived alone, too. Cooking for oneself was a basic skill. Going to the kitchen, Naoya took a look in the refrigerator. It was deplorably empty, even for a large fridge one wouldn’t expect to see in a single person’s home. He looked back at Takatsuki, who was following close behind. “Professor, I thought you said you’d been cooking for yourself a lot since Mr. Wataru scolded you?” “I was! But remember, once we came back from the trip, I was laid up!” “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t have been able to go shopping, either… Do you mind if I look in the freezer?” Naoya pulled the freezer drawer open with a clatter. It wasn’t exactly well stocked, either, but there was some frozen rice inside, thankfully. “…Maybe something like porridge would be best, since you haven’t been eating much lately.” “Umm, I might be getting a little tired of porridge… KenKen made quite a large batch for me.” “Okay, in that case…” Naoya was pretty sure he had just seen a meager amount of ham and eggs in the fridge, which meant he knew what he could make. Grabbing some of the frozen rice, he opened the refrigerator back up. “Go sit down and read a book or something, please, Professor.” After asking where the cookware and seasonings were kept, Naoya urged Takatsuki back into the living room. He couldn’t cook with someone standing there watching over his shoulder. Takatsuki called out from the living room. “Hey, Fukamachi? Make sure to make some for yourself, too, okay?” “Huh? How come?” “Because you haven’t had lunch, either, right? Besides, food tastes better when you eat it with someone else rather than alone.” “Right… Got it.” There were more or less enough ingredients for two servings. Guess I’ll just use them all up, Naoya thought, cracking the eggs and starting to stir. But then he felt someone’s eyes on him. Takatsuki was sitting on the sofa, watching him with a strangely excited expression. “Wh-what is it? Didn’t I ask you to read or do something else?” “But I don’t want to. This is a rare sight. I want to watch.” “Please don’t. It makes me nervous.” “Awww. Come on, doesn’t it make you happy to see someone cooking for you?” It wasn’t like Naoya couldn’t understand that feeling, but it was still annoying for the professor to sit there all alert, like a large dog waiting for his food. He was the spitting image of the golden retriever Naoya used to own; he could practically see Takatsuki’s nonexistent tail wagging in anticipation. Takatsuki continued to watch him with a smile on his face, so Naoya finished up the cooking and returned to the living room, feeling uncomfortable all the while. “Here,” he said, setting a plate in front of Takatsuki. The professor stared fixedly at the food on the dish. “Wow! Omurice!” “Oh, do you not like it? Or maybe it’s still too much for your stomach?” “No, that’s not it. I was just thinking you cooked something surprisingly cute.” “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? This was the only option when I compared what was in your fridge to what I know how to make! Oh, and there weren’t any onions, so all that’s inside the flavored rice is ham. So I don’t know if it’ll be any good.” “That’s okay. I’m sure this will be delicious,” Takatsuki said, before even taking a bite. He picked up his spoon, ate a mouthful, and continued with a smile. “Yep, it’s delicious! You’re a good cook, Fukamachi. You even wrapped the eggs so neatly.” “You think so?” Hearing no distortion in Takatsuki’s voice, Naoya was relieved. If the food whetted his appetite even a little, that was all that mattered. As he picked up his own spoon, Naoya suddenly remembered something. “—One time.” “Hmm?” “Someone told me, ‘If you can eat something you think is delicious, it’s a blessing.’ I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal right now, Professor.” The hand holding Takatsuki’s spoon paused, and the professor looked at Naoya. Smiling softly, his eyes narrowing, Takatsuki said, “Those words stuck with you, huh?” “They did.” When Naoya had been ill, Takatsuki had come to take care of him and said those words. Naoya had told him all about what had happened in Nagano, but he’d never gone into detail about the things he’d seen at Yomotsu Hirasaka. Consequently, he hadn’t yet gotten the chance to say thank you. “Things like that stuck with me, and that’s why I was able to come back from Yomotsu Hirasaka.” “…Is that so?” “Yes—I’m grateful.” If Naoya closed his eyes, he could still see the golden sparks bursting behind his eyelids. Without onions, the omurice did end up lacking somewhat in flavor, but Takatsuki ate every bite, looking very happy the entire time. Naoya returned to the living room after washing the dishes to find Takatsuki with his laptop open. He was looking at the screen with a smirk. “Geez. I hadn’t used my computer in a while, so the e-mails really piled up… It doesn’t look like there’s anything urgent, but—ah.” Takatsuki’s hand froze. “What is it?” “Ah, yeah, there’s an e-mail from Neighborhood Stories.” “Oh?” Neighborhood Stories was Takatsuki’s website. It was mainly a site for categorizing and providing examples of urban legends Takatsuki had collected, but it also accepted general submissions. Perhaps due to the nature of the site, people often sent inquiries regarding strange phenomena in through the submission form. “Is it the usual message asking for a consultation?” “It doesn’t seem to be as serious as seeking counsel, no. I think the client is a student. It says they’re working at an amusement park haunted house as a short-term part-time job, and there’s something odd happening with the haunted house.” “Odd? Like mechanical issues?” “No, apparently, a lot of customers are screaming in parts of the haunted house where there shouldn’t be any scares.” “Huh?” “They said, ‘It’s possible there’s a real ghost, so please come check it out if you’d like.’” “A real ghost…? What kind?” “They didn’t include any details. The student doesn’t seem to have seen it personally. Well, as far as a story goes, it’s common enough.” Naoya sat down on the sofa. “Are there really a lot of ghost stories about actual ghosts appearing in haunted houses? I haven’t really heard any like that before.” “They’re quite par for the course. A famous example would be the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.” “Eh?” Naoya had been there once as a child himself. It had been decked out in cheerful Christmas decorations and was more of a fun attraction than a scary one, but perhaps that was because he had gone during Christmastime. “Disneyland itself is host to quite a few urban legends. The most famous one concerning the Haunted Mansion is probably the ghost in the Endless Hallway. After a room lined with bookshelves, guests pass by a seemingly endless corridor at the same time the ride’s voice-over guide says, ‘Even I don’t know how long this hallway goes on.’ The ghost of a girl appears there, beckoning. There’s also a version of the legend where it’s not a girl, but the ghost of a boy holding a Pinocchio doll. And there’s a story about a girl with a bob haircut who looks totally out of place appearing in the scene where the translucent ghosts are having a ball. I even went looking for her once.” “What, you went there just to see her?” “Unfortunately, even with my eyesight, I couldn’t find her.” Takatsuki shrugged and laughed. “Anyway, amusement parks are places that perfectly meet the conditions that spawn urban legends,” he continued, speaking as though giving a lecture. “People encounter the supernatural far more often in unfamiliar, extraordinary places than they do in familiar, mundane ones. Amusement parks are bright, lively settings where tons of strangers gather together; everything about them is far from the ordinary. That’s exactly why, if you come across a spot in one without other people, it can be frightening, and seeing something unexpected can leave a lasting impression. That’s especially true in a haunted house, because people go inside them seeking to be scared. If you look at everyday things with fear in mind, they can easily become specters. It’s only natural for a ghost story or two to come of it.” Naoya turned his gaze to Takatsuki’s laptop. “So are you going to accept the request?” “Well…I’m not sure. They don’t seem to be especially worried about this spawning rumors and driving away customers. I’d rather think it’d be good for a haunted house business if a real ghost were to appear.” Takatsuki cocked his head to the side slightly. Hearing his fairly uninterested tone of voice, Naoya blurted out, “Let’s take it. This case.” Takatsuki blinked at him in surprise, and Naoya leaned toward him, meeting his gaze. “Why not? An actual ghost in a haunted house? It’s the perfect case for the summertime, and it sounds interesting! Why not go and hear them out?” Naoya tried to inject some enthusiasm into his words. After all, ordinarily in this situation, Takatsuki would have been shouting, with his eyes alight, “A haunted house with a real ghost would be fantastic! Let’s go talk to them right now!” His lack of reaction was probably because he still wasn’t back to his usual self. But just a moment ago, when Takatsuki had been talking about urban legends and haunted houses, there had been a glimmer of amusement in his eyes—Naoya had seen it. What Takatsuki needed to regain his energy was a good mystery, Naoya was sure. It was true that the basis for the professor’s search for the supernatural was his desire to uncover the truth about his past, but even so, he always looked overjoyed when he was talking about anything otherworldly. Surely if they went on one of their typical investigations and found something to pique Takatsuki’s interest, he would return to his normal self. Even if it didn’t happen quickly, he was probably better off going out and having some fun than staying holed up forever in his apartment, brooding. And haunted houses were exactly Takatsuki’s brand of entertainment to begin with. For a long moment, Takatsuki stared at Naoya with a somewhat blank look on his face. Then finally, he smiled softly. “…Yeah. You’re right.” His soft smile soon shifted into an oddly delighted one. For some reason, his expression was the same as it had been while he was eating his omurice. “Yeah, you’re exactly right, Fukamachi. We might as well go and hear what they have to say. You’re coming, too, right?” “Of course.” Naoya nodded. After all, Naoya didn’t have much to do over his long summer break. They planned to meet the client a few days later in Shinjuku. Naoya met Takatsuki at the ticket gates of Shinjuku Station and led the way to the café where their meeting was to be held, since Takatsuki would have gotten lost in no time if left to his own devices. Dressed in one of his usual suits, Takatsuki was, by appearances at least, in good health. He seemed to be eating properly, and his complexion was good. The meeting spot was a self-service-style café, where they ordered drinks at a register to start. Takatsuki got an iced tea, while Naoya ordered an iced coffee, and they looked around the shop with their drinks in hand. When they did, two girls sitting near a window waved at them. One was fair-skinned with straight, shoulder-length black hair, and the second sported a short bob that had been dyed a chestnut color. “Here! Over here, Professor Takatsuki!” “Wow, looks like we’re in good hands! My gosh, he’s so handsome. What do I do?” They had been expecting a single client, but she appeared to have brought a friend along. The girls had probably looked up Takatsuki’s face on the internet or something beforehand. They approached the table where the girls were squealing excitedly, and Takatsuki introduced himself. “Hello, I’m Takatsuki from Seiwa University. This is my assistant, Fukamachi. You’re the ones who messaged me about the haunted house, yes?” With that, he sat down in the chair opposite the two of them, that alone eliciting another squeal. The girls were behaving as if they were meeting a celebrity. Incidentally, it seemed that Naoya, who sat beside Takatsuki, was so plain, they didn’t even notice him. The pale girl with the black hair introduced herself first. “Um, I’m Rino Ooki. I’m the one who sent the e-mail. Nice to meet you!” “I’m Airi Makino, I work part-time with Rino! Ummm, I saw you on a TV special about supernatural stuff before, and I’ve been a fan ever since. I’m so happy to meet you!” The girl with the chestnut bob begged a handshake from Takatsuki as she gave her name. Sometimes, the requests Takatsuki received came from people in dire circumstances, but this one seemed to have come from a desire to meet the “handsome associate professor from the TV.” No wonder the e-mail hadn’t been worded all that seriously. Still, Naoya didn’t think it was likely the contents of the message would be completely made up. “Well then, could you tell me your story?” Takatsuki prompted them with a bright smile, and Rino and Airi began to talk in turn. “So we work part-time at the haunted house at Riddle Park.” “Riddle Park puts on a special haunted house event every summer. The kind where it’s people doing the scaring, not mechanisms. So they need a big staff, and they recruit part-timers for the summer season.” Riddle Park was an amusement park in Bunkyo. Rino and Airi apparently attended different universities but had become friends after hitting it off at the interviews for their part-time job. Luckily, they were both hired and began working as ghosts after being given the rundown on their roles and on how to scare people. The theme of the summer season haunted house changed every year. The elaborate design and setups always aroused a lot of interest, and the event was so popular that there were often long lines. “I’ve been to the summer haunted house at Riddle Park before. It’s so interesting. They set it up like there’s a storyline. What’s the concept this year?” “It’s called the Cursed Elementary School. The main ghost is a woman named Yoruka, who used to teach at the school.” “Here’s the website for the haunted house.” Rino answered Takatsuki’s question, while Airi held out her smartphone. On the screen was a woman’s bloody, severed head floating in midair against the backdrop of a weathered, old elementary school. Below that, in bright-red letters, was the title: The Cursed Elementary School. It made for quite the impression. Takatsuki scrolled through the page, finding the section labeled “Story.” “—There was once a female teacher named Miss Yoruka, who worked at the elementary school. She had a strong sense of responsibility and loved the students in her class very much. One day, three students stayed after school to prepare a presentation. But a bloodthirsty murderer turned up at the school. Miss Yoruka hid her students under desks and in lockers, but one by one they were found, and one by one they were killed. The last to be executed, Miss Yoruka had her head chopped off. Her head flew through the air, however, biting into the murderer’s throat and killing him. Miss Yoruka, now merely a head, still wanders the halls of the abandoned school, looking for the students she hid. ‘Come out…,’ she calls to them—” “Wow, this year’s haunted house looks fun, too! I’d love to see it!” Takatsuki returned the phone to Airi, his eyes sparkling like a child’s. The sight made Naoya feel a bit relieved. Takatsuki seemed to be returning to his usual self. It was a good thing they accepted the case after all. “So the inside of the haunted house is set up to look like an abandoned school, yes?” “That’s right. You start in the entrance hall and go through a regular classroom, a hallway, a science lab, a music room, and the nurse’s office, in that order.” The ghost actors hid, waiting, under desks and inside walls and lockers, jumping out suddenly to scare the customers. The inside of the haunted house was quite dark, on top of being complex, and guests sometimes lost their way and got so scared, they simply refused to move, so the staff also occasionally helped in guiding those people. Outside the exit were questionnaires for the customers to write down which part they found scariest and how they would rate the scare factor overall. Not everyone filled them out, of course, but a fair few filled-out forms were turned in every day, all of which were posted on the walls in the staff room. “I love it when someone writes that the part I work in was scary. On the other hand, when they write, ‘The timing of the scare was off,’ it doesn’t feel so great. But once, Airi noticed a weird response that we got.” The response said, “The mirror in the hallway in front of the exit was scary.” After customers were frightened in the various rooms, the haunted house ended with them being pursued frantically into the final hallway. Unlike the other rooms, the hallway didn’t feature any bloody puppets or cacophonous mechanisms. It was just a simple hallway with a large old mirror hanging at the end. The hallway turned ninety degrees at the mirror, leading directly to the exit. It was a place where the customers, who until then had been met with all manner of terrifying sights, could feel a sense of relief all at once as they made it back to somewhere normal. It was also, however, the climax of the haunted house. After guests entered the hallway, a ghost actor appeared from behind a door hidden in the wall, moaning as it chased after the guests, getting as close to them as possible. The customers, shocked, would scream and make a break for the exit. It was only natural to say the hallway was terrifying, but— “The mirror is just a mirror. There’s no trick to it,” Rino said. “But the questionnaire clearly said, ‘The mirror was scary.’ All of us staff who were there looked at each other like, ‘What are they talking about?’ Finally, we figured the guest must have just been mistaken in what they saw, but…” “Did other questionnaires have similar responses written in them?” Takatsuki asked, and Rino and Airi nodded. “The mirror at the end was scary.” “Miss Yoruka’s reflection in the mirror was too much.” “I really wish that wasn’t what you showed us in the very last second.” “That mirror in front of the exit seriously traumatized me.” When the staff looked, they found a number of questionnaires with such comments. They weren’t all written on the same day, and the handwriting naturally differed as well. It didn’t feel like a prank someone was playing. “And then Tamura—he’s the actor who scares people in the last hallway—said, ‘That must be it.’ Apparently, guests would sometimes scream and run before he could come out to scare them. He seemed convinced that it’s because they were frightened by the mirror.” But there was no reason to be afraid of the mirror. It was only a mirror. Getting ever more curious, Rino and Airi checked social media sites like Twitter and Instagram. Sure enough, they found posts that said things like, “There was a ghost in the mirror,” and “That mirror is way too scary.” “So we told Mr. Terui about it—oh, Mr. Terui is a Riddle Park employee. He’s in charge of the haunted house. Anyway, he said something weird.” “What do you mean by that?” Takatsuki asked, and the girls glanced at each other. Airi was the one who answered. “…The summer season haunted house is made with the help of an outside specialist who produces haunted houses. I guess they always use the same person, but this year, they got someone different. They seemed super eager about it, and apparently, they had gotten their hands on a mirror that came from a real elementary school that was closed down. Mr. Terui said that mirror was the one we were using… Since then, even the staff have started talking about how there might be an actual ghost haunting the mirror.” “I see. So that’s why you e-mailed me.” Rino and Airi nodded again at Takatsuki’s words. “Hmm. That is quite the interesting story.” As he stroked lightly at his chin with his fingertips, Takatsuki’s gaze flickered to Naoya, who shook his head minutely. As of that point, there hadn’t been any lies in the girls’ words. Their consultation request wasn’t just some fabrication invented to catch a glimpse of the handsome associate professor. It was real. Takatsuki took a sip of his iced tea, which had been heavily sweetened with simple syrup. “The mirror,” he said. “What sort of mirror is it?” “A rectangular one you can see your whole body in. It doesn’t have a frame or anything, it’s really just a mirror… Um, kinda like the ones you see in the changing rooms of old inns. It’s pretty splotchy, so I guess you could say it’s a little creepy. It says ‘Donated in 1977’ at the top.” “Ah, a full-length mirror, then? In a school, they’re often installed in staircase landings. That type of mirror is often the subject of school ghost stories.” There had been such a mirror in Naoya’s elementary school. It had been in the hallway near the nurse’s office, not in the stairwell, but like so many of its kind, it had been one of the school’s seven mysteries. If memory served, the story went that if you stood in front of that mirror at midnight, you’d be dragged inside of it or something like that. “What about the staff? Are any of them scared of the mirror?” “As of now, none of the staff have claimed to see a ghost. The actor who chases customers down the hall is always one of the men, but they all say they don’t remember seeing anything strange.” “We’ve gone by that mirror tons of times during inspections and cleaning, too, but there’s never been anything in it. I love horror and stuff, so if there is a ghost, I’d love to see it!” Rino and Airi both shook their heads. Neither of them seemed to be afraid of ghosts, as one would expect from people who worked in a haunted house. Fiddling with the straw in her iced coffee, Airi added, “Come to think of it, I don’t really get why there’s a mirror there.” “Ah, y’know, I thought the same thing!” Rino said, nodding. Airi nodded back at her in agreement. Takatsuki tilted his head to the side. “Why do you say that? Isn’t it that they put in a mirror like the kind you would see in schools because the setting is an abandoned schoolhouse?” “I guess that could be it, but it’s still a little weird,” Airi said, chewing on her straw with a slight pout. “I mean, that hallway doesn’t look anything like a school hall.” “Huh?” “The walls are covered in black fabric, and the floor is black, too. It really just feels like a ‘passage.’ All the other rooms are made to look just like schoolrooms, though. Besides, a mirror doesn’t even come up in the Cursed Elementary School story, so it’s not like it’s a key prop or anything.” “The walls are black, to make the hidden door harder to see. But it really is like that hallway was made specifically to put that mirror in… When I asked Mr. Terui about it, he said, ‘The producer said there absolutely has to be a mirror there.’” Neither Airi nor Rino looked convinced. The story did indeed seem a bit odd. After all, the mirror was placed at the very end of the haunted house. One would expect it to have been put there to showcase the attraction’s final performer, but it had no mechanism and no purpose. The fact that the producer claimed it was essential only made it all the more intriguing. “That’s why there’s been talk among the staff that the mirror must be cursed and it was put there intentionally. They’re saying maybe people with a strong supernatural sense must be able to see something in it.” “Too bad no one on the staff has psychic powers. What about you, Professor? Can you see ghosts or exorcise them or something?”