“I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it”─so said the French philosopher Voltaire, and fitting words they are for that giant of history, since when you think about it, such a flawless method for crushing another person’s opinion is hard to come by.
He first makes clear his opposition to the idea, then announces that he has absolutely no intention of debating it or even taking a seat at the table; this is exactly what is meant by the phrase “to neither kill a person nor let them live.” It reminds me of the star student in class who prevents you from apologizing by claiming not to be mad in the first place.
My opinion, too, was crushed in such a way.
No, not my opinion─perhaps I should call it my dream.
This is the story of how I, Mayumi Dojima, gave up that dream. It happens all the time: A girl reaches the second year of middle school and, without a backward glance, abandons the dream she has faintly yet stubbornly clung to since childhood of “what she’ll be when she grows up.” So you may not want to hear such a shoddy story, but if that boy─that pretty boy─were here, I’m certain he would say this:
“Following one’s dreams is beautiful. But giving up one’s dreams is just as beautiful.”
That’s only true if you give up the dream voluntarily, however.
That beautiful boy sounds good, but that’s about as far as it goes.
And in the end─what about me?
Did I say the last rites for my childish dream myself, or was it simply crushed by the surrounding pressures?
Something to think about as we forge ahead.
Finally, arrogant as this may be for someone as young and inexperienced as myself, I would also like to add one caveat to Voltaire’s perfect maxim:
You can’t defend anything if you’re dead.
✦ ✦ ✦
I knew vaguely that an organization going by the questionable name of the Pretty Boy Detective Club operated behind the scenes at Yubiwa Academy Middle School, the private school I attend, but fortunately I’d always managed to go about my life at school without encountering those shady characters.
Although this unofficial, undercover, uncommercial organization was reputed to resolve all types of problems at the school, its members were also rumored to be the primary cause of said problems, and so, in reality, they were viewed as a nuisance by the entire student body (aside from a small group of supporters).
While stories such as the Case of the Giant Hornet and the Case of the Multiplying Classrooms were reported as fact, however, the truth about the club itself remained a complete mystery. Even the identity of its members was uncertain, let alone its specific activities.
Everyone said whatever they wanted about it, but it was all like an urban legend that someone had heard from a friend of a friend, and when you actually tried to talk to students who had interacted directly with the club, they kept their mouths shut. Even their all-important clients, who must have met with the members in person, refused to talk.
They’d say they were sworn to secrecy by confidentiality clauses─things like that.
Boy oh boy oh boy.
I could hardly keep from laughing. What kind of eccentric, extraordinary, or just plain execrable detectives swear their clients to secrecy instead of the other way around? They were just too enigmatic. Of course, you could say that ultimately it served to increase their mysterious aura, but when my luck unfortunately did run out and I became unwillingly entangled with them, I finally understood why their clients kept silent.
It’s all so absurd that no one wants to talk about it.
After all, who likes to be called a liar for telling an unbelievable make-believe story? But I’ve decided to talk, even if it means being called a pathological liar.
It’s not that I want to clear up the unjust and cruel misconceptions surrounding the club─nothing so admirable as that. To the contrary, I want everyone to know that those slanderous rumors don’t go anywhere near far enough, which is why I’m planning to tell this story in the spirit of a whistleblower. In my case, I’m no longer bound by the confidentiality clause, so I can speak publicly.
About the Pretty Boy Detective Club.
And about those five silly-but-beautiful, and also just plain beautiful, pretty boys.