Romantic Troubles of Duanmu-kun

“Thud!”

An abrupt, muffled sound reached everyone’s ears.

The afternoon sunlight was lazily illuminating the lawn and the cobblestone path. On nearby benches sat numerous young men and women, chatting quietly. Further away, the school building stood in the midst of lunch break, as people passed by on the walkway. This ordinary atmosphere was suddenly disrupted by a strange echo. They all turned their heads, casting bewildered gazes in this direction—

Amidst the bustling young crowd, a fragile yet bloated ‘bomb’ plummeted from above. The moment it collided with the ground, it made a sound like a water balloon being punctured, or a plastic bag filled with semi-solid food being forcefully squeezed—a sound that brought to mind scenes of sticky contents splattering everywhere, unsettling both mind and stomach.

Like an overripe fruit breaking off from a branch, it splattered at their feet. The crimson and ghastly white fluids that burst from the body splattered across the stone pavement.

“Kyaaaaaaah—!”

After a brief silence, terrified screams erupted at the scene as students instinctively clustered together and ran toward the periphery. In the panicked crowd, several people tripped. The girls closest to the corpse, splattered with bodily fluids and blood, stood petrified in place, trembling and unable to move.

Centered around the fallen student, steaming blood and brain matter spread from behind the corpse, slowly seeping into the cracks between the rocks and into the soil.

Upon hearing the commotion, the novelist clambered out of a first-floor corridor window and swiftly crossed the lawn. Upon seeing the summer uniform-clad girl with short hair lying on the path—her body completely shattered by the massive impact, limbs twisted at strange angles—he couldn’t help but furrow his brows.

Although he was becoming accustomed to seeing corpses, witnessing such a gruesome sight up close still made it difficult for his emotions to settle easily.

He wasn’t alone in the vicinity. Therefore, the novelist didn’t act rashly.

“Today is the end-of-term club evaluation day. Students from the sports field will all gather here. I see, could they have specifically chosen this timing?”

As for the motive, it was likely chosen to ensure that more people bore witness to the gruesome suicide.

Among the onlookers who had run to the distant lawn, someone had already called the police, making it unnecessary to do so again. The novelist instinctively shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and looked up toward the rooftop.

Next, he needed to observe the surroundings and collect possible clues… but before that, he instinctively directed his gaze to where the girl had fallen from.

The school building was six stories tall.

The sunlight cast a massive rectangular shadow, with the corpse and silent people seeming to be shrouded in darkness.

Even if someone were standing up there, their features would be difficult to make out due to the backlighting—

Long, disheveled hair fluttering in the wind happened to cover her cheeks. Wearing an ill-fitting, loose school uniform, the slender figure that appeared to be a young girl stood quietly at the roof’s edge, looking down.

Despite the considerable distance, the novelist could instinctively sense that he was being watched by the girl’s faint gaze.

“Asami-senpai…”

He couldn’t help but smile bitterly, pressing his throbbing temples as if nursing a headache.

…No, wait.

Before that, why was senpai there? Had she failed to prevent it in time, or had she watched helplessly as that girl jumped to her death, becoming the corpse on the ground? Or perhaps…

The novelist shook his head.

Asami Yuko, who was lying on the roof’s edge, held down her skirt that kept being blown up by the wind with her sleeve. After making sure her skirt wouldn’t lift, she stood up and slowly climbed back inside the railing.

Afterward, without turning around, senpai waved at him, gesturing for him to come up.

…Ah, is it starting again?

The novelist knew Asami-senpai’s personality well. Just as the school rumors suggested, she was genuinely “strange.” There was no helping it—to avoid complaints later, he could only obediently head toward his destination.

This time, it was an “abnormal incident” gradually eroding daily life, surely concealing unimaginable darkness and insane truths behind the scenes, rather than some make-believe “detective game”—though saying that, senpai probably wouldn’t care.

The novelist’s meeting with Asami Yuko took place two weeks before the suicide incident at Yuihara High School.

That afternoon, he had been asked by Misao to retrieve her forgotten sports bag from the club activities building’s break room. He happened to pass by several empty activity classrooms.

In the after-school corridor, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop—or rather, you could only hear your own footsteps echoing crisply.

“It’s a bit unsettling…”

Near twilight, occasional voices faintly carried in from outside the windows. The setting sun’s remnants and dim glow stretched people’s shadows long across the marble floor.

The last time he came here was when he delivered documents with the Class Rep. This was his first time wandering around here alone.

It felt exactly like a scene from a school horror movie… Due to his overactive imagination and the scary scenes and scenarios constantly appearing in his mind, the novelist couldn’t help but swallow hard and quicken his pace, wanting to leave this place as soon as possible.

…Yes, just like this.

Silent, empty classrooms, the dim colors of the witching hour, and a female voice faintly echoing in his ears, coming from somewhere unknown…

…Wait.

A girl’s voice?

It was real, not his imagination.

The novelist stopped in his tracks.

Surprisingly close, too.

After considering for a moment, he moved toward the source of the sound. If someone really needed help, he should hurry over.

“Ugh…”

After sliding open one of the activity room doors, the novelist saw a girl weakly calling for help. She was buried under a large pile of books, with only one slender arm extending from the gap.

“Help me…”

A hoarse voice with little strength.

…She must have noticed someone coming.

She didn’t sound particularly weak. It seemed there wasn’t anything seriously wrong.

The novelist, now less concerned, casually began surveying the interior of the club room.

“Hmm, I see.”

“Uh…”

“So, this school actually has a club like this, huh?”

“Please…”

“I wonder how many members they have?”

“Help…”

“Looks abandoned.”

“…”

She seemed to have stopped talking.

—

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