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Descending to the first floor, we passed through the hall, turned right, and entered the dining room connected to the kitchen, with Kiyoshi-san leading the way.
The number of chairs surrounding the round dining table was ten. And the number occupied was four.
Disconcerting, appraising gazes stared directly at me and Fushimi. It was like entering a classroom right before the bell, a way of being watched that I really couldn't stand.
Across from us, grinning eerily and cheerfully, was Keiko-san.
Then, there was the woman in the yukata who moved similarly to me, and sitting next to her, a girl with large eyes. This was the slender girl who'd been holding the game console in 'Touka's' room. Now, she was whipping her head around to look at her surroundings, naturally showcasing her restlessness.
Another one – the girl who had been in 'Touka's' room and turned us away at the gate – seemed to be serving the food, bustling about carrying dishes. With these three sisters—or maybe they were three sisters—I'd had an unfriendly first encounter.
The other man serving food, and the man leaning back arrogantly in his chair beside Keiko-san, were new faces to me. The arrogant one was probably Ooe Kouzou-san. He looked to be in his forties, but his liver looked sixty.
"Ah, please, have a seat here, yes," Kiyoshi-san said, pulling out two chairs near the entrance with a careless gesture. Fushimi gave a nod and sat to the right, while I settled into the left. It was a comfortable chair, the kind that looked like it could pay a month's rent for my apartment.
Kiyoshi-san circled the round table and took one of the empty seats next to us, making seven people.

Add the two still serving and Natane-san in the kitchen, and that makes ten.
• What an unpleasant number.
"To be able to welcome such a personage as yourself to our table today feels like a dream," Keiko-san greeted cheerfully, as if trying to ventilate the atmosphere of confusion and displeasure towards outsiders emanating from the other residents.
"Not at all, I'm humbled to have been invited."
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
"No, it's proving rather difficult to find."
"Oh my, such an ill-disciplined item you're searching for!"
'Hohoho,' Keiko-san laughed, dominating the conversation almost single-handedly and setting the mood with me.
"You too, young lady, please don't hesitate to eat your fill." Keiko-san addressed Fushimi too, with a bland smile, as if she were merely my accessory. Fushimi bowed her head deeply—it had already been inclined—as her reply to this perfunctory welcome.
It seemed Keiko-san hadn't recorded Fushimi in her memory from the past.
"Ah, yes, yes. Let me introduce my family. Or would you prefer to introduce yourselves?"
Keiko-san directed the question to the man beside her. The man shrugged, his lips sealed. He seemed to have delegated the introductions to Keiko-san, and acknowledging his intent, his wife smiled sweetly. Thrusting her palm towards her neighbor, she announced,
"This is Ooe Kouzou. My husband. And, as of yesterday, unemployed."
Kouzou-san, who had been feigning composure, widened his eyes. He choked, as if awkwardness had lodged in his windpipe, and glared at his wife, Keiko-san. Keiko-san, unintimidated, deflected his anger.

"I'll arrange a more suitable job for you. Let's do our best with the interviews, okay?"
With a single sentence that completely destroyed his dignity, she silenced Kouzou-san and, incidentally, plainly demonstrated the power dynamic to me, an outsider.
"Ha, ha, ha, ha," Kouzou-san laughed, his voice rough with irritation. He glared this way, his face twisting in various directions. It seemed his approach to welcoming us wasn't summed up by 'Please make yourselves comfortable,' but rather 'Please leave as soon as possible.'
Was it a check against someone trying to invade his territory, or jealousy directed at a young punk his wife was fawning over enough to potentially cheat with? Or perhaps it was based on some entirely different reason, but right now, it was too vague for me to tell. That's one lie, though.
Moving counter-clockwise, Kiyoshi-san simplified things with just a bow. Next, Keiko-san's hand extended to introduce the man who had been arranging the chopsticks.

"Ooe Takahiro. Our eldest son."
His name called, he gave me a small nod. Not exactly awkward, but a dry demeanor. As if his skin cells were rustling against each other, *kasari kasari*.
"Hello. ...Excuse me, but how old are you?"
My eyes gave up trying to judge, so I resorted to asking. This Takahiro-san had ambiguous features that made it difficult to determine whether he leaned more towards high school or university student.
"I'm twenty-one, but...?"
"Ah, in that case, you don't need to use polite language." I only use it with older people myself.
"..."
Takahiro-san's eyes shifted from me to Kouzou-san. Hunching his shoulders as if seeking permission, he waited for his father's words.
"Ah. If that's what he says, then just go along with it." Ah, Kouzou-san spoke for the first time. His voice had the muffled tones perfectly suited for humming off-key in the bathroom.
He replied emotionlessly, "Yes," turned his head mechanically to look down at me, and indicated his acceptance flatly, "Understood." His movements reminded me of the little figures that dance out of a clock on the hour.
I glanced at Keiko-san, and a polite supplementary explanation flew my way.
"This child was raised to listen carefully to what his parents tell him."
Keiko-san beamed shyly, offering her version of boasting about her son. She wore the expression of a refreshed educator who didn't regret her educational methods in the slightest.
Takahiro-san, too, looked slightly proud, his cheeks relaxing a bit. Well, it's not necessarily a personality trait to be rejected. It's not always true that judging things for yourself is the only right way, after all.
"For example... Takahiro, throw your chopsticks."
Keiko-san's command reached Takahiro-san at the speed of sound and was put into action. He threw the chopsticks he was holding (the ones meant for me) with all his might towards the wall. One landed softly on the carpet, while the other reached the wall and bounced off with a light clatter.

"Takahiro, go pick them up."
Takahiro-san executed Keiko-san's subsequent 'order' without pausing to judge. He trotted over, retrieved the chopsticks, now tangled with carpet fibers at the tips, and placed them neatly before me again. Then, skipping any commentary or post-action cleanup, he prepared for the next task.
"Isn't he well-disciplined?" Keiko-san boasted about her son, who served as both pet dog and owner.
"...Indeed." Setting aside whether it's good or bad.
"Schools don't really provide this kind of education, you see, so we, his parents, took responsibility for his upbringing... What do you think?"

"'It's a family bond that inspires a kind of... inescapable respect, I suppose.'"
Keiko-san responded to my false pleasantry with a smile coated in self-esteem.
Only Fushimi looked dumbfounded; the rest of the Ooe family were unresponsive to the point of oozing strangeness.
Next in sequence, my eyes went to the one who had finished serving and slid in next to the skinny girl. Sensing the gaze and the atmosphere, the girl closed her eyelids, looking weary.
"Ooe Touka. She turns sixteen this year, our youngest daughter."
After that explanation, Touka scratched her head simply. She looked like she was trying to cover up her embarrassment, like when your heavily made-up mother visits during class observation day.
After that, Touka opened her own mouth and described me in a tone completely devoid of any desire for mutual understanding.
"You're that guy, right? Mom told me about you, some kinda criminal."
Her tone held neither contempt nor rejection, so it felt like being asked matter-of-factly, 'Hey, you a high school student?' So I just responded blandly, "Yeah, that's right," and that was that, but Fushimi bristled as if she'd been the one addressed. Maybe she was venting the frustration pent up from being inconspicuous until now; I watched the development like it was someone else's problem.
"What?" Touka glared right back at Fushimi. Fushimi flinched slightly. Though her opponent was supposed to be her age, it looked exactly like a younger girl being forcefully 'persuaded' to 'lend' the contents of her wallet.
"Anyway, who the hell are you?"
Finally, the third person to be addressed during the dinner table introductions, Fushimi's existence was acknowledged. Maybe Touka, despite her rough speech, was actually a kind person.
"......... Hey, can't you talk?"
Fushimi, having forgotten to write her name in her notebook, couldn't introduce herself. Unless she'd erased it, the notebook was probably still filled with an abnormal proliferation of the character cluster 'Yuyuyu', but that unbroken string wasn't convenient for self-introductions.
And Touka misunderstood. Perhaps because her natural expression was pliable, a slightly troubled look suited her better and seemed more natural.
"Ah—uh... sorry about that."
Touka apologized for a non-existent fault, looking awkward.
Fushimi, perhaps uncomfortable at being unilaterally apologized to just for being quiet, kept glancing sideways at me for help.

"......... Fushimi Yuyu. She's just a little shy."

For some reason, I didn't disclose the information that she was from the neighboring house. Though maybe they already knew.
"Ah, I see..." Touka murmured, looking unconvinced as she stared at Fushimi with narrowed eyes and brows.
Thus, the conversation between Touka and Fushimi ended awkwardly, and next, the skinny girl sitting beside Touka raised her hand. This one seemed eager to introduce herself.
"I'm Akane. You're the big sister and big brother from before, right? Nice to meet you!"
The girl who used 'boku' for herself called out in a lively voice that seemed to make full use of her slender frame. Her light-colored bangs were cut straight across her forehead, which, combined with her actively darting eyes, created a childlike impression. Hmm, created? Yeah, created. Though she probably wasn't aware of it herself.
What bothered me somewhat, though, was that she pointed at me when saying 'big sister,' and her finger moved to Fushimi for 'big brother.' Unless she was nearsighted, those eyes were completely useless. The poor thing.
Hmm, looking at Fushimi wasn't going to solve this, so maybe I should rely on Keiko-san. When we both stared pointedly at Keiko-san, she functioned as commentator without much delay. "That child is our second daughter, but she tends to learn various things in reverse... As her parent, I'm quite embarrassed."
This one admitted there was a problem with the upbringing and blushed. Akane herself tilted her head, asking "What is?"
Second daughter... meaning this is the older sister of Touka, the youngest daughter? Which means, at the very least, she's the same age as Fushimi or Nagase... Hmm. Just how much of a sugar-and-honey-soaked education would it take for something like this to mature?
However, 'reverse.' Which means that I... am a sincere, pure, excruciatingly beautiful girl—just kidding—before I could even say it, just imagining it nearly brought on dizziness and nausea, but it means I'm a slightly-held-back high school girl living a life fawned over by boys every day, and Fushimi is a flat-chested high school boy... That part's normal. I certainly don't mean to infringe upon Fushimi's human rights in that direction by implying her only characteristic is her chest, so please leave those stones by the roadside for now. Who am I even making excuses to?
Or maybe our ages are reversed, and she sees me as an eighty-one-year-old who's *way* too much of a 'big sister', which would also be interesting. Mmm, my interest is endless. If time permits, I should try various experiments with that kid. Fiction, though.
"Hmm? Smiling at me... Did you fall for me?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Akane said, sounding like it was a joke, but Fushimi, glaring next to her, looked dead serious.
What's with her? I felt like teasing Fushimi herself, "Are *you* maybe in love with me?"
Now then, the last one. The tenth person in this mansion.
Waiting there was the insect-type creature who looked like me, if my face were changed to a woman's, my hair grown out, and my clothes standardized to a festival theme.

Our eyes met, and she scattered a smile as useless as an empty tissue box.
"I am Ooe Yuna." —A name that accelerates the sense of foreboding.— "And you are?"
If I retorted flippantly, 'Some kinda criminal, right?' I'd be considered self-deprecating, which is also annoying, so I put some thought into it.
"I am..." First, I stated just the surname I'm currently using.
I tried to embellish my voice to make the impression of a refreshing, pleasant young man, but having forgotten to apply fluorescent paint to the backs of my eyelids, it didn't match my appearance, resulting in a disjointed self-introduction. That's a lie, though.
"...What should I do," I muttered, scratching my neck.
My savior, responding to this, was slow even in her footsteps.
"Sorry to keep you waiting~"
Natane-san appeared from the kitchen, looking flustered, and placed glass bowls of sashimi before each of us. Then Takahiro-san, carrying a tray, served steaming hot cream stew, with vapor rising *mou mou*. The rich liquid filled the plates right to the brim, like the shore at high tide. Colloquially known as *tenkomori*.
Silence serves as evaluation. Impressive, preparing a stewed dish in such a short time.
Fushimi, brandishing her notebook that read 'Excited!', stared at the seafood. She seemed to have chosen either to ignore the stew completely or pretend she hadn't seen it.
Natane-san stuck her head into our midst and explained in a low voice.
"The Mistress can only make this and curry!... Sorry about that~"
"Not at all..." I accepted ambiguously, since I wasn't the master of this house enough to complain, 'Well then, you could have saved the sashimi for tomorrow.' Fushimi seemed not to have paid it any mind from the start, maintaining her non-reaction.
Having finished defending her mistress, Natane-san walked counter-clockwise towards said mistress.
"Excuse me for a moment~," she said, taking both of Keiko-san's hands and examining them intently.
"I don't see your intention, but do you need my hands for something?" Keiko asked about the servant's impoliteness with a soft tone and narrowed eyes.
"No, just that one knife is missing, so I wondered if maybe you were still holding it, Mistress~"
"I'm not you, Natane. Of course that's not possible."
"That's true, isn't it~"
She accepted this easily and backed down. This time, moving clockwise so as not to pass behind her master, she moved to the seat next to Kiyoshi-san and sat down as the tenth person surrounding the table.
"Well then, shall we eat?"
At Keiko-san's signal, eight people picked up chopsticks, and two, including myself, grasped spoons. Everyone in the Ooe family reacts honestly. It's probably a conclusion drawn from the ranking of the flavors.
"Let's eat." "Leeet's eat." "I gratefully receive." "Let's eaaat." "We receive." Keiko-san put her hands together in prayer, and Natane-san, Yuna, Akane, and Takahiro-san followed suit. The others silently reached for their chopsticks.

Since I had the chance, I first took a taste of the non-red stew. ......*Gofu*.
"xx-kun."
The sand in my heart raged violently enough to make me imagine gravel was mixed in the stew. I really wish people wouldn't call me by name, whether casually, solemnly, or even during a graduation ceremony.
"...Yes? What is it?"
"If you haven't found what you're looking for yet, please do stay the night. Then you can just search again tomorrow."
After the meal came an invitation to stay overnight. Those around us, particularly Kouzou-san and Kiyoshi-san, seemed to perceive Keiko-san's words and actions as reckless, casting harsh glares at the guests.
"That would be too imposing, really." Besides, I don't have my overnight kit with me. Just kidding.
"No, I feel that just today won't be nearly enough time to hear your story."
Keiko-san insisted that the invitation was for her own convenience. She casually took a sip of her homemade stew.
"Not just the outline of the incident, but the feelings that sprouted within you, the person who composed its substance—that is what I want to experience. That has been my dream. Won't you indulge me?"
Tilting the tip of her raised spoon and spilling stew, Keiko-san innocently demanded someone else's wounds. Who tells that kind of thing to people? Besides, the person involved couldn't possibly have preserved all their feelings anyway. Hearts and emotions are raw things, premised on deterioration. They can't be processed into plastic.
"...Well... yes..." I temporized, biting my tongue to reprimand my consciousness, which was being tossed about by drowsiness.
Tonight, what if I refused this offer?
First, returning to my aunt and uncle's place is not an option. I'd rather deflect the scolding under calmer circumstances. Returning to the apartment without Mayu is also out of the question.
As a third option, staying over at Fushimi's house—nobody would permit that, and it's also true that I haven't finished searching here. It's not guaranteed I'll be warmly welcomed if I visit this mansion next time. Given all this, my narrowing options started to feel suffocating.
Eating a proper meal for the first time in two days, the tension inside me started to loosen.

Like the strings of a marionette becoming thin and sharpened.
It was certain that it was already becoming hard to resist.
Drowsiness and other sensations started to return, paradoxically restricting my actions.
"......... Excuse me, I'll take you up on your kind offer."
It's not just that I'm worried about Mayu; I want to see her face soon. But there are still things that bother me about this mansion, and more importantly, returning empty-handed won't change the fact that my function has ceased.
In response to my acceptance, Keiko-san formed fists at shoulder height, expressing her joy.
"No, thank you for accepting my selfish proposal. My gratitude only deepens. What about the young lady with you?"
Although she ended the sentence with a question mark, her tone was openly adorned with a high-pressure attitude urging, 'You're staying too, of course, right?' trying to manipulate the decision.
Mine and Keiko-san's gazes gathered on Fushimi, who had been concentrating on her meal. After dropping her hirame into the small soy sauce dish, Fushimi's brow furrowed at the choice she'd been given. She tried to entrust the decision to me with a sideways glance.
"You should decide this yourself, President."
Prompted by me, Fushimi sank into thought so intensely she looked like she might sip the soy sauce instead of water. In the end, she lowered her head diagonally. While she might have intended to indicate reservation, Keiko-san instantly decided, "Great, it's settled then!" and rejoiced triumphantly at the sleepover's confirmation.
"Natane, when dinner's over, show these two to an empty room."
"Ah, yeth," she replied, tuna dangling from her mouth like an extension of her tongue. Unlike me and Mayu, their master-servant relationship didn't seem particularly pronounced. They were like a friendly senior and junior.
"So, how does it taste?"
Keiko-san asked for an evaluation of her cooking with an intensity that looked like she might swallow her bated breath and her clenched fist simultaneously. Kouzou-san, not having been asked first, now wore a sullen expression. Was that my fault, I wonder?
...However, my impression of the taste... Hmm.
My honest opinion is along the lines of "Who the hell made this stew?!" but how should I dress that up?
After the dinner party, where Keiko-san and I had dominated the conversation, and a subsequent, unquiet tea party Q&A session that lasted over two hours, the room I was finally assigned was located closest to the stairs leading to the second floor. Turning left, it hadn't taken even twenty seconds. Guided there while yawning, Natane-san opened the door. She reached out and turned on the light. It was already past nine, so all the lights in the passage were also 'awake'.
"Umm, do you require a table or anything~?"
She asked my requirements while peering into the room, which, like the other spare rooms, was bleached bare and featureless.
"Ah, no. I'm fine," I replied, biting back the yawn I'd started, signaling that no special consideration was needed.
"Is that so~. If anything comes up later, we won't be able to help, so please understand~"
With polite phrasing, I was made to swallow the stipulation that after-care service would be deficient. I had planned to convey my reliability by stating my intention to somehow manage any problem or two with ingenuity and resourcefulness, but since it wasn't definite, it was postponed indefinitely. If an earthquake drill suddenly started when there was no desk, I couldn't figure out how I should participate, so I had no choice but to forbid myself from speaking. All lies, though, bundled together.
Natane-san returned her bowed head to its normal position, mentioned that the bath was available in the morning too, handed me the bath towel she'd been holding to her chest, and then adjusted her body's orientation towards Fushimi.

"Ah, well then, you are... what was your name~?" "It's Fushimi Yuyu," I launched the mud boat for her.
Fushimi shot me a sideways glance for a moment, then waited for Natane-san's instructions.
"Well then~, I'll show you to your room, so..."
She issued the unspoken command 'Follow me' and proceeded down the hallway.
Before leaving my side, Fushimi opened her notebook to a page she had prepared in advance.
『Good night』 "Mm, good night."
She nodded, satisfied. Then, pulling out her eraser, she chased after Natane-san's back. I watched until Fushimi glanced back once, then entered my room.
There was nothing in the room but a bed. Therefore, I made effective use of the bed.
"Right then, under the bed..." I only had the bath towel on hand, so I reluctantly hid it there before lying down. What exactly was reluctant about it? It was so unclear, even regarding my own actions, that I felt like demanding an explanation from a random passerby.
A cheap bed, difficult to sleep on. The scales tipped towards wondering if sleeping rough on the floor wouldn't be easier on my body weight.
Even so, drowsiness assaulted me. As if some ingredient had been soaked into the sheets, it invaded me. Come to think of it, I hadn't slept for two days now. I'd felt sleepy, but even lying down, I couldn't settle, feeling distressed enough that I'd ended up wandering the night streets, striving to waste time. For me, I was holding both a sense of crisis and impatience in a combination move, and perhaps because hunger was piled on top of that.
When you get hungry, your five senses sharpen. Especially smell. To the point where you can perceive individuals' personal odors.
That's why, long, long ago. I became able to smell my old man coming down the creaking stairs, and I'd manufacture my own fear, burden myself with it, and nearly self-destructed.
While I was thinking about something or other like that, rambling internally, my body seemed to have gone to sleep.

My eyelids closed up shop. My fingers and, incidentally, my mouth too. It really makes you appreciate the greatness of 24-hour businesses.
Tomorrow, I'll bring the search of this mansion to a close, one way or another.
Having decided that, since it would be boring for just my consciousness to be left behind, I decided to follow suit and sleep.
It was the end of a day where I felt I understood, just a little, how Maa-chan, who loves sleeping early, feels.
The next morning's wake-up call was intense.
An ear-splitting bursting sound echoed from a position whose distance I couldn't quite grasp.
A party popper? The sound signaling the start of a race...? But for that, the morning sun from the window was still too dazzling, so I shook my fuzzy head and woke up. I sat up, running my fingers through my bed hair, grimaced at the headache peculiar to waking up, and tried to think about what I should think about first. Another light bursting sound.
"...Ah, come to think of it, I didn't take a bath yesterday."
I reached under the bed and pulled out the treasured bath towel. Perhaps due to a personality unaffected by its environment, its sex appeal hadn't particularly increased. My thoughts jumped from there to Mayu, but if I hypothetically possessed photo books or videos of nudes, how would Maa-chan react? Fuel for a bonfire, or cut down in a single stroke? Ah, a third one sounded in the distance. ...Gunshots?
Anyway, Mayu... I wonder if I'll get a report saying she's already recovered on her own.