---

---

Honestly, only my heart pounds for "Maa-tan, Maa-tan, squishy Maa-tan!" My spirit and hands are all ready to give her a quick welcome, but my shyness always shelves the idea. I wouldn't mind if it halved my lifespan, I just want to bury this as a lie. Just kidding.

Looking around, it was a hospital room where all other human figures had been erased. It seems the setup was that I was lying in bed, and Mayu, in her school uniform, was visiting me. I wonder what kind of wish fulfillment this is based on?

After stripping the apple bare, Mayu places it on a white porcelain plate, her hands now empty. Then, she presses a brand-new cellphone to her ear. Seeing that gesture, I look at myself, and sure enough, I too was holding the cellphone—the one I’d bought again only to have it drown in the toilet less than a few months later—to my ear.

Truly, just as you'd expect from a dream, the prime example of unproductive activity, it isn't bound by efficiency.

"CQ, CQ, testing, testing, is the voice on the Maa-chan exclusive phone coming through~?"
"Loud and clear in stereo, yeah~"

The synthesized Mayu-voice produced by my head and the lip-syncing were matched, albeit amateurishly. The facial processing, too, though somewhat disjointed, was kept within the range recognizable as a smile.

"Mii-kun's phone is exclusively for receiving Maa-chan's calls, so you mustn't talk to other people, okay?"
Mayu's cheerful tone... ah, this is something she actually declared in reality.

"Naturally. My phone is limited to signals with an effective range of under a hundred meters, you know."
My response, however, is slightly modified. I recall that in reality, my mouth just spouted nonsense like, "It's specced so it can't receive unless it's radio waves weighing over seven grams that defy Maa-chan's nutrients," emitting brainwaves in a different sense, or so the dream, closer to my brain than reality, recounts the past. Unlike a dream, it seems, fabrication is not its strong suit.

Also, my dull attention has only just now noticed, but the white thread tying our little fingers, composed of my and Mayu's love and other emotions, was functional in this world too. What's more, its length had been increased compared to the original, providing convenience for our range of activity.

Hmm, talk about plot convenience. Whose convenience, though? I'll avoid deep consideration on that.

"So, what shape do you want the apple in?"
Mayu takes my order, wriggling her long nails and fingers. Seems Mayu's lines are just quotes from the past, exposing a rather impoverished creativity.

"Let's see..." Well, I can hardly request an engagement ring. And the idea of some symbol of our bond that oxidizes and rots within days... that kind of sarcastic thing isn't exactly overflowing in dreams, so that's rejected.

[...]

The reason Mayu possessed a cellphone with zero registered contacts is easy for anyone to guess.
Driven by the faint hope that Mii-kun might call.

"Something Maa-chan likes would be nice."
After saying it, huh? A thorn pierces the space between my eyebrows as I recognize the sense of déjà vu in this opening.

Dream Mayu receives those words, swinging the strap—a misshapen doll figure that looked like it might come as a freebie with a one-way ticket to hell campaign—connected to the phone, and cheerfully announced the theme.

"Okay then, today I'm gonna make Mii-kun~!"
A sickeningly sweet declaration, with heart marks stuck to the end so firmly that even detergent couldn't wash them off.

"Whoa—" I've steered us into unpleasant territory. What am I supposed to do when even a dream informs me I have zero learning capacity? But pushing my worries aside as needless, Mayu hums nonchalantly the entire time as she works.
*Chop chop*, Mayu wastes the flesh of the apple and shapes it into something resembling a human face.
And there, once again. "Ah, it's a dream," I mutter to myself, chewing on the understanding.
Mayu looks at the apple, turns the face towards me—wait, hold on, don't bring the lip part closer—
"Here," "Wh-," "Ahhhhn."

Only around my eyes, the gravity of reality began to encroach.
Pulled by it, I blink, and then, open my eyes casually.

Like a trick picture, the dream switched into a nightmare.
Misono Mayu is reconfigured into Nagase Tooru.
Her hair, her clothes, her meaning, her value, everything, lacking.

Since it was a dream, my blood circulation wasn't affected, but I instinctively pinched my cheek, trying to escape.
The carving on the offered apple crumbled away, revealing a new red within. Coloring of fresh blood dripped from it.

"Tohru's such a spoiled kid, ssu ne~"
My jaw was grabbed, and the blood-smeared apple was shoved into my mouth as if to block any objections or arguments. Since it was a dream, the apples born from Nagase's hand were inexhaustible. Even without her clumsy hands boldly tackling the task of peeling, finished apple slices popped out about as readily as my lies. However, each of those apples asserted itself as Nagase's work, adorned here and there with red.

So many apples were stuffed into the entrance of my digestive tract that I could only assert myself like someone whose dentures had fallen out, "Hoga hoga." Seems like sticky apple juice could be squeezed from my nose.
Well, it's probably healthier than having my eyeballs drip out and having my mouth plugged with those, I interpreted optimistically.

"Tohru, what part of Maa-chan do you like, ssu ka?"
"Foffofoffofoffo ga."
The part where she doesn't indiscriminately stuff apples into people's mouths, maybe? No, she probably would if I didn't stop her, though.
"There isn't one, ssu ka?"
"Hyah yo, hyeippai!" *Yes, lots!* It's hard to explain with just my mouth that there are tons, so I spread my hands too.
"From my perspective, I can't find any good points about Maa-chan, ssu yo. Ah, excluding her face."
Fiction Nagase coolly criticizes Mayu. Damn you, Dream Nagase, ignoring your own lack of study, you make it sound like Mayu's good points involve kicking away a kitten in a cardboard box on a rainy day, calling it a "Nuisance," and proceeding straight down her path. Hmm, should I try listing Mayu's characteristics? Selfish, a bundle of possessiveness, loves kisses, tries to scrape off the part if touched by other people, especially the opposite sex, Sleeping Beauty, hates living things. Wait, the only plus element is the kisses!

"Tohru, your eyes are darting around, ssu yo."
"Hyuhye no hyuhi oohyogu no da!" *Swimming in the sea of dreams!* I wanted to try bluffing my way out.
...Ah, there was one good point. She'll share about one bite of her favorite donuts. Am I a puppy wagging its tail too much? Even I think I'm being too pitifully endearing.

"Can't you list them specifically, ssu ka?"
Being connected to the same root heart, my inner thoughts are completely exposed. At this point, the only remaining option is—
"Hyahyahfeh!"
"Yes yes, I am Nagase, ssu yo. What is it?"
"Hyenji!" *Change!* I say, flipping my palm over.
".........Change?"
"Hyohyoh, Myayu to!" *Yes yes, with Mayu!*
Widdle me isn't good with difficult talk~. At least let me escape freely within a dream.
"Ahyohyo no hen ha o hyoi te ike!" *Leave that phone alone!*
That cellphone you're holding belongs to Mayu, and is exclusively for Mii-kun. Since she herself declared it so emphatically, it should be fine for me to jump on the bandwagon, right?

Nagase acts conveniently for me, smiling, "Fine, ssu yo."
That must be the difference between her and the Nagase who touched reality.
"The right to decide is yours, so I won't resist."

"Mm-hmm." If the real Nagase had been the type to understand how to back down like that, we'd probably have just ended as friends.
"But before that, I have to ask Tohru a question, ssu."
"Hyai?" *Yes?*
"Mii-kun, what part of Nagase Tooru did you like, ssu ka?"
"Ahm?" *Huh?*
"Mii-kun, by what standard do you come to like people, ssu ka?"

Since I wasn't being interrogated with a serious attitude, I had the leeway to play dumb.
Two questions, even harder to answer than before, requiring me to touch upon the realm of the unconscious.
Nagase performed a malicious upturn of the lips, something unknown to me in reality, and dismissed my consciousness.

"It's a survey to aim for better dreams. You can give the answer after you wake up, that's fine, ssu."
Nagase laughed it off cheerfully, then boldly strangled my neck with both hands.

Being murdered without any rhyme or reason, the me inside the dream doesn't resist. Pushed down, rolling off the bed, straddled, the massless Nagase uselessly strains to put her full weight on me.
Even so, Nagase's smile was graceful, healthy, and unsickenable.
At the same time, I was struck by a sudden question: I wonder if she resents me in reality?

"Trrr Rrr Rrr, Trrr Rrr Rrr."
What is this person like someone with multiple personalities?
And why is she gripping my neck? Relieved she isn't scratching, not that I can relax about that.

A woman, illuminated by the light I'd left on, was right before my eyes and nose, pursing her lips and making a "trrr trrr" sound.
At that homemade alarm clock sound, I felt like the thread of the dream was cut from within my body.

Despite the effort taken to wrest sleep from time's grasp, this awakening was also the worst in many ways.
Fed up with the feeling of choking from a dry throat, I open my eyes.

My breath stopped, not from external pressure but from the influence of her core nature/intent, and despite having just woken up, I held my breath until my eyes, opened to their limit, grasped the situation. Once recognition of the situation was complete, deep breathing started automatically.

"The least interesting reaction. No scratching, no suffering, just treating it as an extension of waking up."
"I'm used to it, you know."
"Seriously." Just kidding.
"Seriously?" That's probably a lie.
Yuna's hand, which had merely been resting there, came away, and her unsettling smile became the ceiling above me.

"You were sleeping surprisingly full of openings, so I just gave your neck a little squeeze~"
"I'm not dexterous enough to carefully manage my REM sleep, you know."
Right. Guess I'll just handle the obligatory comeback.
""Last night was fun, wasn't it?""
This time, neither of us felt any particular emotion welling up.
This much is predetermined harmony; you could call it a required exchange for any citizen of Japan. I even invested the baseless hope that Fushimi, currently stuck fast asleep to my back, could handle this exchange effortlessly in normal times.

Putting a hand to my forehead, the night sweat is terrible. ......There's a faint memory of having seen some weird dream, still piled on the surface of my mind. Reason immediately dispatched orders to deploy the snowplow.

"Careless of you. If you were the culprit, we'd have our throats slit in our sleep, a peaceful happy ending for us. You don't dislike such a painful conclusion, do you?"
"Hmm, you knew surprisingly well that I have a sweet tooth."
""The misfortune of others is the taste of honey,"" ""Indeed,"" ""So I associated from that.""
""The time is,"" ""Seven o'clock,"" ""Thanks for the time signal.""
If this one were a character in a novel, she'd probably be hated for making it hard to pad the line count. I'm guilty of the same crime, though. I scratch my scalp and try to sit up. But, I encounter man-made sleep paralysis, the weight on my back having increased markedly. ......No, I feel like I'll get yelled at later for that, maybe I should correct 'markedly'. At most, it's a moderate *thump* level. Though now I feel like I'm even more likely to receive an open-handed slap or something for that comment, but this time I wrote it in ballpoint pen, so the eraser has no turn. I'll be careful not to get headbutted or anything.

As if timing it for the break in my thoughts, Yuna's face becomes an artificial one, subtracting the smile from her business smile. She doesn't seem to particularly comment on the rudeness of me responding while still lying down.

"Customer, was the service provided satisfactory?"
"The Snow White service is still pending, though."
I try a bit of sexual harassment. The Snow White service is a type of extortion where you exchange a kiss while the target indulges in idle slumber, then pester them for payment after they wake up. ・It's a region-limited term. ......Teens with adolescent tendencies are easily targeted. Adding more settings just ended up watering down the shadiness even further.
Yuna looks blank. For a fake version of me, her understanding is slow. While I'm striking that pose, she seems to have gotten it, tilting her head slightly with a charm-dessicated smile.

"My apologies, I shall attend to it immediately—"
"Eh, wha—?"
She bent her knees,
grabbed my head,
and kissed
me.

Goosebumps hijacked my body.
My eyeballs rolled back, feeling stretched to the back of my head like cake batter. My vision couldn't handle the panorama, blurring things out with just white lines.
"Agagagagaga!"
Any余裕 (leeway) or 嘘 (lies) to worry about things like chapped lips or skin health fled barefoot in escape.
An impression utterly unthinkable for having a woman press her lips against mine flies from the corner of my mouth. Reaching my limit, I pushed Yuna away and regained my mental peace.

Could this be retribution for constantly telling lies and jokes day in and day out? I cough, and a chill starts to creep in.
Fushimi on my back, Yuna on my mouth. If Mayu were to find out, she seems capable of achieving something like a 100-person kill streak barehanded.
And is it just my imagination, or did Fushimi's arms wrapped around my torso from behind tighten? No way, is she awake?

Yuna hit the wall with a *gonk* then bounced right back. I wish it had been a dresser. Could have put her away efficiently then.
"If you please, fill out your impressions on the survey."
"I felt like I was being pressured and kissed by my own reflection in a mirror. It was the worst feeling."
I even feel dizzy. I put a hand to my forehead, blocking the fluorescent light, feeling the urge to just go back to sleep.
"Strange, you are. That part is different from me."
So you were *happy* to kiss someone who's basically you, who you just met two days ago? Ahh...
"Rather, I wish you'd feel the problem lies in the fact that about the only thing *not* different between us is our gender."
"Our lips, our hands... is there truly a difference, I wonder?"
Yuna shrugs, asking teasingly. I want to counter by shrugging my cheeks or something similar, but I couldn't think how on the spot, so I drifted towards the option of silence.
"From my perspective, being with someone you connect with emotionally, like you do, is far more creepy and unpleasant, though."
She stares at me with sidelong glances, pushing the cause of her discomfort onto me. That self-serving personality... I wonder if any positive effect could be seen if one of us were to emulate the other? Since we're both ill-natured, it's like desperately trying to mix water and distilled water to cause an explosive chemical reaction.

As the other party involved in this contact, I can sympathize with parts of Yuna's argument. It feels like we're pressing the exposed veins and muscles of our arms together; it's painful both subjectively and objectively.
But I can't just accept her point here, be convinced that Mayu's lips and Maa-chan's little hands are the same thing. Just kidding.

[...]

"You just don't understand refinement. I see you as the type who can't comprehend the value of ero-books."
"Ero-books... ah, shunga, you mean." Performing the thought process exactly opposite to a modern person, she tossed the room key underhand right in front of me.
I grip the tool in my hand, something that can at least be used to lock others in.
"You pretend to be thoughtless, but your personality is one that properly assigns value to such things."

[...]

Is that what she's trying to say? She seems to have overestimated me considerably, though.
(My internal monologue: *If we were killed tomorrow and Yuna, the key holder, survived, she'd be the obvious culprit. That's precisely why I entrusted it to her. It's not like I trusted her completely. Since it wouldn't have mattered who I gave it to, I just designated the person who happened to be nearby.*)

"You think there's meaning behind every little thing I do?"
My right eyelid responds with a slight twitch to this justification that digs up Biwashima Yagoto from the past.
"Yes. You are steadily accomplishing things in secret."
".........Same to you, I guess."
*Hehehe*, we try creepily disparaging each other with smiles that seem capable of making any number of enemies. It's mutual self-praise, really.
Yuna straightens up, brushing off her bent knees as she stands.

"So, is there anything else?"
So, there's no depressing—I mean, potentially danger-increasing—information attached, huh?
At a point three steps away from the bed, Yuna turns around dramatically. The edge of her yukata flipped up.
"Ah, right, right. There was something I had to tell you in place of the morning paper."
"What is it?" I ask back, while also realizing that this house doesn't actually subscribe to a newspaper.

"Today, Takahiro died."
It was a flatly delivered, malice-filled report. The emphasis on "Today" felt artificial.

Besides scales falling from my eyes, I was pierced by a shock so great it felt like Thai rice might spill out. What convenient, multi-functional eyeballs these are, I wonder if I can even master using them, annoyance even permeates my being. Just kidding.
"...Again? Hearing reports of dead people from your mouth two days in a row, what kind of sick taste is that?"
Yuna looked smug. She shrugged, seeming completely convinced by the simple logic that if one person dies, a second one probably will too.

"You are... how should I put it, you don't seem scared of corpses."
"Because corpses don't move. This isn't fantasy or *märchen*, you know," she retorted coldly. *Märchen* is short for *Mental Henbouchuu* (Undergoing Mental Metamorphosis)... who was it that quipped that again? Ah, me? No, wait, was it Sensei? I still feel like the remnants of the dream are scrambling the connection between my consciousness and memory.
"Exactly," I first tried agreeing honestly. Then immediately added a counter-argument.

"You know, I classify you as being the same *lineage* of human as me, but..."
"Lineage... I thought perhaps *type*," she mused.
"I've discovered one major difference."
I hold up one index finger. In truth, I'm also energetically making just one of my toes stand upright too, but efforts below the surface of the water go unappreciated. Just kidding.
"You only use lies to the bare minimum. Your efficiency must be superior to mine."
Her response to that was an expression of sadism, like a child pulling the legs off an insect.
Yuna's hand was extended towards me.

"Come, let's go observe."
Yuna invites me with a bizarre smile.
I felt the forehead and hands that were stuck to my back nod up and down.

When we arrived at the scene, I hesitated slightly over whether to offer a morning greeting. My strict mother hammered the "soul of a three-year-old lasts till a hundred" principle into me, so the expiration date on my politeness is good until I'm a century old. I'm not some punk kid who can't lower his head. However, the gazes of the five people surrounding Takahiro-san's corpse, which was leaning against the hallway wall, were mostly from people half-glaring as if to say, "You're not wanted here."

In the end, I silently joined the event, be it crime scene investigation or funeral attendance. Yuna peered at the body from between Natane-san and Kiyoshi-san. I squeezed myself in next to Akane, who had a relatively high friendship level among the Ooe family members. As I did, Touka, who was on the west side, distanced herself slightly, taking a stance wary of me, prioritizing her own safety over the corpse. Akane watched her sister's (?) actions, looking amused.

"Touka is shy, isn't she~"
Akane tossed out the carefree, frank impression, refusing to be outdone by the air of death and the smell of blood. Touka maintained her silent protest with a scowl, but I quickly dropped my gaze to Takahiro-san's remains.

The knife stabbed into Takahiro-san's chest... could it be the one Natane-san spoke of, on what could be called the first day of the incident, whose whereabouts were unknown? Right after leaving his own room, beside the door, lay Ooe Takahiro, legs stretched out, arms hanging down with palms facing up. The front of his torso was soaked in blood, and his pajamas were smeared with such an exaggerated red that caution would be needed when washing them to prevent the color from transferring to other clothes. Glancing over, there seemed to be no external wounds other than that single stab wound.

Someone is steadily disappearing. At times like this, it's the turn of the police officers, the nation's shield and spear, working themselves to the bone. However, they aren't quite competent enough, nor idle enough, to rush over without even recognizing an incident has occurred. Without a clairvoyant, the scientific connection of reporting via the tools of civilization is essential, and if that's impossible, then naturally, they are dismissed from service in this locked room.

In the eyes of the others looking at the body, fear was definitively present. Kiyoshi-san bit his lower lip, his skin turning pale, while Natane-san supported her husband's shoulder on tiptoe, averting her eyes from the corpse. Shouldn't the picture be the other way around? Kouzou-san, regarding his son, had trembling fists. If not fury or hatred, then it must be a storm of raw emotion. Akane stared down blankly at the corpse as if it were a curiosity, while Touka glared not at Takahiro-san, but at everyone else still breathing. Her center of interest seemed biased towards the living perpetrator rather than the dead victim or escaping the mansion. I can sympathize with that.

And as for me... hmm, I put my just-woken brain to work in a suitable manner.
I vaguely wondered why the killer hadn't used the handgun, then thought, *ah, right,* and arbitrarily solved it myself.

"Who... killed him?"
Kouzou-san suppressed his tears and gave birth to regret. Judging from the lack of confusion in the others observing this egg-laying scenery, it wasn't a new display, but something that had likely already been repeated several times.
He shook his head left and right with a ghastly expression, focusing on the absent person.

"What about your companion? Don't tell me it was her!"
"No, she's in her room. The door is still locked, so please don't worry about it."
I gently restrained him, asserting that countermeasures were in place regarding both danger and safety.
That he didn't also worry *about her* was just as I expected, allowing me to respond calmly.

I had left Fushimi trembling in bed as she was. When I was leaving, Fushimi, who was indeed already awake, had clung to me, wanting to come along, but I judged it impossible based on the breeding condition of the dark circles under her eyes. The healthy high school girl was haggard, looking as though she'd spent the night enjoying a sports festival in a graveyard, let alone not getting a wink of sleep. If she saw a corpse *not* through iron bars this time, in this state, she'd develop a neurosis. Therefore, I ordered her confined to her room. I did promise to return to the room once this exhibition event concluded.

"Since we were locked in our room, unfortunately, we couldn't be the culprit this time."
I stole a glance at Yuna's expression. Yuna was observing Takahiro-san, activating her "speak no evil" and "see no evil" modes towards me, so I simply left it at conveying the information.
Kouzou-san clearly ground his teeth, irradiating me with hostility for my nerve-grating way of speaking. If the door hadn't been diligently raising a latchkey kid all night, he probably would have become fixated on stopping my breath first thing.

......Well, I've seen what there is to see, maybe I should head back to the room. That's what I wanted to suggest, but the only ones giving off that kind of atmosphere were me and Akane, who looked like she'd be perfectly fine breathing only carbon dioxide. With one careless remark here, I'd be treated like an alien too. Even if I could fly through the sky on a bicycle, it's no means of escape from a locked mansion where you can't look up at the blue sky and clouds, is it?

While I was grappling with this internal conflict, reading the mood, a hero attempting to move things forward suddenly appeared.
"How about... we talk things over after this?"
Kiyoshi-san proposed the next course of action reservedly, while glancing furtively at Kouzou-san.
"Talk? About what?"
Kouzou-san glared up at Kiyoshi-san, who was taller than him. Seems he can compensate for the height difference with authority. Indeed, Kiyoshi-san's lower back was slightly bent backward as he retreated.
"No, um... about who killed Takahiro, the young master. Yes..."
"Is there any prospect of figuring that out just by talking?"
Kouzou-san aimed to relieve the gloom of losing his son by bullying Kiyoshi-san. Kiyoshi-san, turned into a verbal punching bag for his careless remark—more familiar than an alien—spilled the material for a single "Hii!" yelp.
However, perhaps Kouzou-san's gloom cleared somewhat with that, allowing him to regain his composure. After scratching his scalp furiously, he re-examined Kiyoshi-san's suggestion.
"Talking, huh... There are several things I want to clarify, so let's do that."
He crossed his arms and surveyed the six people surrounding him.