Chapter 3

Her honest reaction had something that calmed my mind. I had only given her name back then to put them off, but perhaps I had actually revealed my true thoughts which I had been unaware of myself.

At least at that very moment I felt that I liked Usami.

“…by the way.”

I considered our conversation finished, but she still wanted to say something it seemed.

Usami whispered with a serious expression on her face, “I-I’m normal, you know? A normal girl! Not some strange girl like you a.s.sumed earlier! I don’t want to be misunderstood, okay?”

I accidentally smiled because of Usami's lovely words.

Her honesty was very comfortable to me—almost like tasting a gla.s.s of delicious orange juice.

I wished I could fall in love with her.

After the monthly class officers’ regular meeting I watched the female officer of my cla.s.s leave in a hurry and strolled back to our cla.s.sroom.

Having reached the empty room, I prepared myself to leave as well. As I was in no club, I had nothing to do at school anymore. What was left was going home and preparing for my part-time job.

When I stood up from my seat, I noticed a university notebook on the floor. I immediately noticed whom it belonged to. Its front page read “Youko Tsukimori”.

I looked around the room, but she wasn’t there. I decided to put it on her desk before leaving.

But just when I was about to do so, I registered a sc.r.a.p of paper that peeked out from the notebook. I grasped the sc.r.a.p, thinking nothing of it, and pulled it out.

“…now that’s unexpected,” I unintentionally let out.

It turned out to be a folded A4 report sheet. The caption written on it matched neither the Tsukimori everyone talked of nor my personal image of her.

After making sure n.o.body was watching, I stowed it away in my bag. I did so because I presumed it would take quite some time to read all of the tightly-written text.

You could say I succ.u.mbed to temptation.

No, at that very moment I felt not even a speck of guilt whatsoever. It was but pure curiosity.

I didn’t have anything against wine. To begin with, I couldn’t possibly judge without ever having taken a sip. It’s just that my attachment to the familiar drink won over my wariness of the unfamiliar one.

In short, I was interested in the wine everyone praised so highly.

“Alright, what kind of secret of our idol is going to come to light…?”

I left the cla.s.sroom as I always did.

It was past 10 p.m. when I returned home after finishing my work at the café.

When I arrived there I had completely forgotten about the sheet. I had been looking forward to reading its contents, but the various stimuli at the café drove its existence into a corner of my memory.

I like to observe people. You might even call it my hobby.

Part of the reason why I chose to work at a café was surely that I simply like coffee, but more than that I found the different types of people you meet there interesting.

A young woman who always takes the same seat and just keeps gazing outside. A man in the prime of his life who changes the girl at his side each visit. The cooled-down relationship of a couple that had been deeply in love just half a year ago. And many more.

It was something that excited my imagination—a favorite pastime of mine.

In reality though, I was no different from Kamogawa and the others. I, too, was just an ordinary 17-year-old teenager. I did not want to know the truth. I simply wanted to enjoy wallowing in my fantasies.

I was in the middle of relaxing, taking a warm bath, when I remembered the sheet I had picked up after school.

With my body still warm I dove onto my bed and unfolded the paper. While holding myself back from hurrying things, I slowly glanced over the title.

“The Murder Recipe”

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