Chapter 4

I felt like I was reading the mystery novel of some popular author. Maybe this was due to the tittle actually sounding like a novel’s.

A scrap of paper that appeared from the notebook of the person who was on everyone’s lips—Youko Tsukimori.

There seemed to be no end to the rumors dealing with her vivid love life, but her image still remained mostly irreproachable. She was by no means a girl the word “murder” would have suited.

Perhaps it was this fact that piqued my curiosity. Contrasts like this have a sort of magic to them that sucks you in—be it for the good or the bad.

My gaze skimmed over the text, completely absorbed by it. Faithful to its title “The Murder Recipe”, it introduced different ways of killing someone.

I noticed that parts of the text had been erased and corrected, indicating that the recipe had been revised several times. I could virtually sense the breath of the person who wrote down these rather messy characters. It had something vivid to it, so to speak.

While reading on, I discovered something that all of the approaches had in common.

The most important objective appeared to be eliminating the target without getting one’s own hands dirty. It was not a text written by a human who is fond of killing—who sets the act of killing as his highest objective.

“…is she really aiming to become a mystery author?”

These seemed exactly like tricks made for a mystery story. However, they were written rather clumsily and were far from perfect.

To present an example: there was one way of killing titled “The Feigned Traffic Accident Murder Recipe”. The content was most simple.

On a road over a steep mountain pa.s.s. Disturb the driver somehow. Make him lose control of the steering wheel.

It was written in bullet points like this. Additional remarks like “Phone the driver in order to make him lose concentration?” or “Put some hindrance on the road?” were very sparsely added.

As can be seen, the grade of completion was very low. Maybe she was still in the stage of collecting together various ideas, trying to perfect it?

The risk was reduced to a minimum, but I didn’t think the plan was likely to succeed either. I could see she tried, but this was one weak plan if she was to really kill someone.

I dropped the murder recipe onto my desk.

Having had high expectations, the letdown was great. The all too childish contents of the recipe had killed my interest.

“This just spoiled my after-bath-bliss.”

After complaining aloud, I reached out for my bookshelf to remove the bad taste by reading a real mystery novel.

“…no, hold on a sec.”

However, I stopped my hand and started thinking. A new thought lifted my spirits to new heights again.

Who was the owner of this “Murder Recipe”?

It was Youko Tsukimori!

What if, purely hypothetically, she had written this because she seriously wanted to kill someone…? That thought made the clumsy text feel rather realistic at once.

Leaving aside the reason for now, there was a person whom Tsukimori wanted to die and she had desperately written a murder plan to make it happen.

Tsukimori had! That perfect, stylish, beautiful, intelligent “Tsukimori” who was adored by everyone!

And she had edited such an immature murder plan over and over.

“…now, aren’t we cute?”

If this guess turned out to be true, I’d almost become a big fan of hers.

My imagination was put in motion. I started puzzling over all kinds of questions, like the person she wanted to kill, her potential motive and her hidden personality. I kept playing this game until the sky started to dawn in the east.

The next morning I went to school later than I usually did.

By the time I entered the cla.s.sroom, most of my cla.s.smates were already present. Of course, Tsukimori was among them as well.

While walking to my seat, I secretly glanced at her. She was putting the things in her desk in order. At least to others it looked like such a perfectly normal action.

Not to me.

“Good morning, Tsukimori.” I greeted her as always.

She stopped peeking into her desk, tilted her head and looked at me while using her little finger to brush her elegant, long hair out of her face. “Good morning, Nonomiya-kun.”

She showed me her mature smile as always.

Usually, our conversation would have ended right there. We knew each other only well enough to exchange greetings.

“Are you looking for something?”

However, that morning I didn’t want to let it end there. My curiosity was vexing me, for I suspected that she might be searching for the “Murder Recipe”.

I intensively stared at her, not wanting to miss the slightest stir.

“No, I am just sorting my desk.”

Sadly, her smile was left unchanged.

I told her, “I see,” and headed to my own seat, while thinking to myself that reality was so boring compared to imagination.

“But…,” she suddenly called me from behind, “why did you think I was searching for something?”

I was desperate not to break into a broad smile.

It was a feeling as though prey had hopped readily into my trap. Whatever her sentiments were, I started getting in high spirits just from the expectation of some amusing developments.

“No, I’m afraid there’s no particular reason,” I turned around towards her, playing dumb. “But let me return that question: why do you ask?”

I decided to probe lightly.

“I had no particular reason, either.”

“I see.”

Before me was only her unchanged mature smile. I felt the desire to make that smile freeze, but I didn’t intend to get to the core just yet. I thought it was best to keep my trump card for the very end.

“But if…,” I began, “if you are troubled, feel free to ask me for help.”

“What’s the matter, Nonomiya-kun? I don’t remember you being this gentle?”

“I’m gentler than you believe, that’s for sure.”

“I beg your pardon. I’ll be sure to remember that then.”

“Of course the primary motivation would be getting a girl of outstanding popularity like you indebted to me, though.”

Tsukimori giggled.

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