Romantic Troubles of Duanmu-kun

The future ending was a “sweet death.”

Just as he was about to walk down that path, another resident of Amazu Manor appeared in his room at the right moment, turning the tide—

“No eating alone”

As if expressing such a strong desire (just kidding), a certain black-haired ojou-sama with straight long hair appeared in the Novelist’s room silently like a ghost.

Even at home, Yayoi still wore an elaborate kimono with complex patterns and heavy fabric. In the narrow five-and-a-half tatami room, under the dim light, the girl stood quietly like an intricate doll that had come to life.

Upon noticing someone else entering, Miyagi-san revealed a troubled expression with an “Hmm—” but didn’t seem to dislike it.

After a while, the two of them huddled together, quietly discussing things that made the Novelist feel uneasy.

…In the end, it seemed nothing could change the current situation.

As summer approached, nightfall gradually came later.

The pitch-black sky arrived as scheduled.

Soft yellow lights illuminated the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere.

The members of Amazu Manor were deeply immersed in their work and pursuits. Three laptops placed at different angles on the low table, the bed, and the desk emitted a faint glow, illuminating the faces of the three people.

“Hmm…”

The Novelist sat working at the desk. His empty gaze fixed on the ceiling. He constantly frowned, with a pen clamped between his nostrils and upper lip, hands placed in front of him, the feet of his chair tilted on the floor.

He had maintained this contemplative posture for quite some time.

Beside his hand was blank manuscript paper, and by his feet lay several crumpled paper balls with ink blots spreading across them. The document interface on the open laptop screen was equally blank.

…Can’t think of anything.

It was indeed… without a doubt, he had hit a creative bottleneck. He couldn’t think of anything even if he racked his brains, and he had been troubled by this recently.

It wasn’t the “happy trouble” of choosing “which plot development would be more interesting,” but rather having no ideas from the start.

“If this continues, you’ll soon be forgotten, Detective Tachiki-san.”

After all, a “famous detective” was a character who only shined on the stage of solving bizarre or strange cases; conversely, without “incidents,” a famous detective’s existence equaled zero.

In terms of novel presentation, it seemed the detective solved the cases; but thinking carefully, it was more like the detective was a puppet machine born for the cases.

Just like him as a Novelist. It seemed the writer actively narrated stories to readers, but in reality, it was the story “narrating” the person.

Speaking of which… the Novelist suddenly remembered that his recently completed and published detective novel, “Twilight Minerva,” was successfully finished and, in terms of quality, was the highest in the series featuring the famous detective “Tachiki Ryo,” much stronger than originally anticipated—this achievement was largely thanks to his encounter with Miyagi-san and his personal involvement in the case of “Nagawa City’s serial killer who returned after eight years”—

…

…No, no, no, this thinking direction seemed dangerous! Better to give up early. The Novelist struggled to resist the urge to draw material from reality.

After all, Miyagi-san was right beside him. For a Novelist craving “material,” once he adopted the method of delving into abnormal social events to “gather material,” how would things turn out in the end…

“Aki, has anything strange happened recently?”

At that moment, Yayoi suddenly spoke, breaking the silence in the room.

“That’s such a general question. Specifically, about what?”

Miyagi-san quickly replied.

The Novelist instinctively focused his attention on their conversation. Well, as long as he didn’t bring it up himself, it surely wouldn’t count, right?

“About… suicide.”

“Eh~ Yayoi-chan doesn’t know?”

This time, it was Miyagi-san’s turn to be surprised.

Seeing both the Novelist and Yayoi turn to face her, the female university student’s face showed an expression as if observing rare animals.

“You two really aren’t interested in this kind of thing at all.”

Her fingers tapped several times on the keyboard, turning the laptop toward them.

“This is the hottest topic being discussed online recently! Not just on forums and anonymous communities, but television and newspapers were full of interview programs about this. Recently occurring in the Tokyo metropolitan area, most participants in these incidents were teenagers…”

“The ‘Suicide Wave.'”

“The initial incident occurred half a month ago, when two males and two females were found having committed suicide in a hotel room in Tokyo’s Bunkyo district. Their chosen method was burning charcoal in a brazier, causing the concentration in the air to rise, eventually leading to fatal poisoning.”

“A week later, also in Bunkyo district. A collective suicide of five men and women occurred in a rental apartment, with four deaths and one still in critical condition at the hospital.”

“And just yesterday at dawn, three bodies were discovered in a car parked in a shopping mall parking lot. When police arrived at the scene, the charcoal in the brazier inside the car was still smoking, and the door gaps were tightly sealed with tape… I see, the incident took place at Sun Tower.”

Miyagi-san spoke with a tone of realization.

If the Niwa Building, located several blocks away, symbolized the past glory of the financial conglomerate family, then the thirty-story comprehensive commercial building named after the sun, situated in Shinjuku district, represented Niwa Enterprise’s current enormous influence on Japanese society.

“…”

Yayoi nodded slightly.

“The public opinion issue wasn’t major. Mainly it was that the police had intervened in the investigation. It seemed they believed the reasons behind the recent consecutive suicide incidents were not simple.”

“Regarding the third suicide incident, shouldn’t there have been security guards on night patrol? Didn’t they notice anything unusual?”

The Novelist asked with some confusion.

“This is precisely the questionable point.”

The young family head replied.

“The parking lot had three patrol security guards, and counting the night sentries and shift rotation members, there were ten people in total. None of them noticed the suicide scene.”

“It wasn’t until dawn when a worker came to drive a delivery truck out that, upon smelling a burnt odor nearby, discovered the bodies inside the car.”