So, Amae had officially dragged me into this mess. This was not part of my carefully constructed plan to "help" Misaki. That bastard. This was, without a doubt, 'unnecessary.'
He was going on and on about how I "easily" solved the Hanako case – obviously exaggerating like crazy. And then, he had the gall to challenge Chizuro to come up with a mystery. If I couldn't solve it, well, she'd get to declare me officially dumb.
My non-existent reputation was apparently on the line. If it wasn't me, they'd probably be scrambling to save it. But me? I could not be less bothered. Let it burn.
Chizuro was thinking, her brow furrowed, for a good while. The air in the library was still, broken only by the occasional rustle of a page or a distant cough. Sunlight, filtered through the tall windows, cast long, dusty beams across the rows of bookshelves. She was clearly trying to conjure a puzzle guaranteed to stump me. I still didn't get what I'd ever done to her, but I got this distinct feeling she secretly hated my guts. Well, whatever. At least I was a million times better than a lot of people out there – the actual criminals, the troublemakers. I wasn't causing harm to anyone, just… existing.
I never agreed to this. Not a single word of consent had left my lips.
Then, she got up. The worn wooden floorboards creaked faintly under her shoes as she walked to a nearby shelf, the kind filled with older, less-frequented volumes. She pulled out a book and presented it to our little group, setting it down on the polished surface of the table with a soft thud. Then, she started laying out the mystery. It wasn't some abstract riddle she'd made up; this was a real-life one.
The book she presented was thick. The cover was a deep, emerald green, a kind of textured leather that looked like it had seen better days. Its thickness was comparable to the width of a smartphone. It was exactly the kind of ancient-looking tome you'd see in any magic-based manga or anime. What were those called again? A grimoire? Yeah, something like that.
She started explaining what was so mysterious about this particular book, besides its obviously archaic appearance.
"This book… it's the school's annual album, with descriptions, for the last ten years," she stated, her voice clear in the quiet library.
"For some reason," she continued, leaning forward slightly, "this gets borrowed *every Friday* and returned the very next day." And just like that, I immediately realized what the real mystery was.
"Figure out why it's getting borrowed and why it's returned the very next day," she stated, laying down the challenge. A tough one, I guessed. The faint, musty smell of old paper and binding glue seemed to hang in the air around the book.
Misaki asked, already reaching for it, "Can we have a look?" Chizuro nodded.
Misaki opened the heavy cover. Inside were photos, glossy pages filled with images of our school, students on various field trips, or proudly displaying achievements. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary.
It wasn't like the contents were super special.
We flipped through the pages a little more. Misaki was doing the flipping, her brow furrowed in concentration.
An image of a school trip to Kyoto from last year.
A photo of the soft tennis team grinning, holding up a trophy from the interschool league.
A picture of the… "Sleeping Society Club" winning some kind of sleeping contest?
…
…
Okay, that Sleeping Society one was definitely weird. How did they even get that approved as an official club?
Misaki was the one meticulously turning the pages. She was sitting on my left, and Amae was on my right, both of them leaning in so close it felt like I was the unfortunate filling in a very enthusiastic sandwich. The air around us was thick with their combined curiosity – and Amae's faint, lingering scent of something sugary he'd probably eaten earlier.
Chizuro said this album was borrowed every Friday and returned the very next day, which meant Saturday. Reading this whole thing in just one day was practically impossible, given its size. So, I guess we could rule that out.
"I think it's reasonable to assume it isn't being used for reading purposes," I said, breaking the silence. The three of them actually agreed. Even Chizuro, who was so desperate to prove me dumb, nodded.
"You're right," Chizuro said, acknowledging my tiny piece of deduction. So, she wasn't completely illogical in her quest to prove me wrong. That was something.
A long "hmmm" rumbled from Amae, then he said, "If a book isn't used for reading, then what other purpose does a book have?" Good question, I had to admit. And I couldn't think of a single answer off the top of my head.
"Maybe it's used as a pillow!" Misaki offered, her eyes bright. "It's huge, and just the right size." Seriously? She thought someone was borrowing this ancient tome to use as a *
pillow? It made me seriously doubt how she managed to become the honor student. Unfair means, perhaps?
Just after Misaki's… insightful theory, Amae came up with his usual brand of absurdity.
"I bet this is used for fortune-telling! Or some kind of ritual!" he declared, presenting his brilliant theory with utmost confidence. I honestly couldn't tell if he was joking or actually being serious.
… Tsk. "I won't even bother asking you guys for suggestions anymore," I sighed. These theories from our two "brilliant minds" weren't going to get us anywhere.
*Think, think… run some gears…*
But why should I? I didn't agree to this in the first place!
One-day borrow…
Why would anyone do that?
…Wait a minute. I could find out who this "anyone" was. The library must have a record.
"Do you know who borrowed this?" I asked Chizuro, looking up from the book.
"Yes, of course," she said, a small, almost challenging smile on her lips. "Everyone has to register before borrowing something." Just what I needed.
She retrieved a slip of paper from behind the counter, the names of the students who'd borrowed it neatly listed. She showed it to us. And, sadly enough, it wasn't just one person borrowing it every Friday.
It was five students. Five different names.
Horumi Shenki,
Subarou Uchimaki,
Naoto Origami,
Ren Pigeon
But why? There had to be something common between them.
"All of them are boys," Misaki pointed out, peering at the list.
Yes, their gender was common. But it wasn't exactly impossible for five different boys to borrow the same book in a row.
"That might just be a coincidence," I said. "We need something more concrete than that."
"They must be friends and taking turns to borrow it," Amae suggested. And yeah, that was actually possible. I had to agree. Finally, they were offering some potentially useful insights.
Okay, so now we had:
Friends, taking turns.
Returned in one day.
Why…?
If only I had a real clue.
Chizuro was watching our little squad conduct our "investigation" (a strong word, really) with an amused, almost predatory glint in her eyes.
Back at our borrowed table, Misaki was examining the book again, her face close, real close to the pages. It looked like she was trying to interrogate the individual fibers of the paper for a clue. And now she was… smelling it? She took a deep sniff, and then her eyes widened slightly. It looked like she'd actually found something.
"There's a smell," she announced, her voice a little hushed. "A faint smell." She passed the heavy book to me, then to Amae, for us to take a whiff. The worn leather cover felt little cold.
"No, I can't smell anything," I said, after a cursory sniff.
"Me neither," Amae chimed in, wrinkling his nose.
Neither of us possessed her apparently superhuman sense of smell.
"Some spilled juice, maybe?" Amae offered. It was believable. Students were messy.
"Can you describe what type of smell it is?" I asked Misaki.
"I'm not sure," she replied, her brow furrowed in concentration. "But it's… toxic, probably."
I'd been expecting her to say something like "orange juice" or "old socks." But toxic? Okay, maybe this case wasn't so straightforward after all.
Toxic… a toxic chemical… Probably something related to the science or chemistry club? That was my initial guess, but it was abruptly wronged 90 degrees when another piece of the puzzle came into light, courtesy of our observant librarian.
"You know," Chizuro said, a sly smile playing on her lips, "you didn't ask, but I'll tell you this. They were all painting club members who borrowed this." Her insights were proving to be the most useful so far. She was enjoying this way too much.
Hmm.
Painting club.
Friends borrowed it, taking turns.
And this "toxic" smell…
Ah! That was it! The metaphorical Edison-era lightbulb flickered to life in my mind. I'd cracked it. Tricky, but I'd cracked it.
"I've cracked it," I announced, maybe a little too smugly. I was feeling… high, almost. For winning the challenge. It was a new feeling, this sense of accomplishment. I wasn't used to winning, or feeling like this at all.
"Oh, really? Care to explain yourself?" Chizuro, the ultimate skeptic, asked, her arms crossed. She clearly couldn't accept that I'd won. But you had to, Chizuro. Hehe.
"Why don't I just show you?" I said, another wave of confidence washing over me. The joy of proving someone wrong, especially someone as stubbornly skeptical as Chizuro, was a whole other level of satisfaction. "Follow me."
"But I can't just leave the counter," she protested. Valid point. Then her gaze landed on poor, unsuspecting Amae.
Amae let out a mournful cry from behind us as Misaki and I started to leave with Chizuro. "But I wanted to see too!" She'd just casually dumped the library responsibility onto him. Not the most responsible move for her, I guess.
"Don't worry, we'll tell you everything once we get back," Misaki assured Amae with a kind smile. Then, we headed right for the painting club.
"Where are we going?" Chizuro asked as we walked down the quiet school corridor, the scent of floor polish and old textbooks faintly in the air.
"Painting club," I replied. "Don't ask why. You'll know soon enough."
…
We reached the painting club room. Another 28 steps. Not that far, thankfully. The door was slightly ajar, and a faint, sharp chemical odor – turpentine, maybe? – drifted out. And as soon as Chizuro peered inside, both of them realized the whole picture…
We were back. Amae was waiting for us eagerly, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Darn it… I still can't believe this guy can actually solve it," Chizuro muttered, still looking like she'd swallowed a lemon. She definitely hated that I'd been proven 'not dumb.' And she probably hated me even more now.
"I will not accept that you're smart," she continued, stubborn to the end. Was all my effort wasted?
"But," she conceded, with a reluctant sigh, "you're not dumb either." Okay, maybe not a total loss after all.
Amae, having missed out on the grand reveal because of his impromptu librarian duties, asked, "So? Where did you go?"
Misaki answered, her usual cheerful smile back in place. "To the painting club. And there, we saw portraits. With the models holding that book."
"Ah!" Amae exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "That makes sense! Explains where that toxic smell came from – the paints and thinners!"
"But I still don't get one thing," Misaki said, her brow furrowing again. Yes, here it comes. More unnecessary puzzle pieces for my poor, overworked brain.
"Why return it the very next day? They could easily borrow it for a week, probably." Yes, not a totally illogical question. But it had a simple answer.
"Have you considered how heavy your bag would be with this massive book in it?" I replied. "It must be at least one and a half kilograms, easy."
"Hmm, yes, that makes sense," Amae mused. "I think I'd die carrying that thing home every day."
And with that, the long, unexpectedly eventful day had finally ended. I was back in my bed, manga in hand, following my usual evening routine when it hit me.
Damn it. We totally forgot why we were even at the library in the first place – to get access to the archives.
And absolutely zero progress had been made on the Miro clan merger case.
All we'd been doing was playing this weird book mystery game. And the worst part? I'd wasted my energy. Too much of it.
At least 500 steps worth of energy, completely down the drain.
And why… why was I actually enjoying winning back there? That was the real mystery.