The man who I met

  (This is the English-translated version of my short novel, "Deatta Otoko". The original, Japanese version is written in here) 

Synopsis:
I, Tsugawa Eito, visited the scene of a fire in October 2024. The location was close to my parents‘ house, and when the university went on winter break, I went back to my parents’ house and visited the scene of the fire.
According to the news, the parents who lived there escaped the fire, but the details of what happened to the family's elder sister and a younger brother were not reported. There, I met a person --- and the story will unfold.

Chapter 1 The place where fire happened

In October 2024, a fire broke out near my parents' house.
A fire broke out near my parents' house, but I was safe because I was in my university dormitory.
The news told that the fire quickly spread, surrounding a single house as if to engulf it. Smoke billowed up, scorching the sky, and soon, the house was reduced to rubble. Since the location was a short distance from the city center, firefighters struggled to contain the flames. By the time the fire was extinguished, nothing remained of the house except for the charred pillars and foundations.
During the winter holidays, I went back to my parents' house and had a chat with them.
It was a cosy time that I hadn't felt in a long time.
However, I couldn't get the fire out of my mind.
I couldn't help but think about the one house that had burned down.
Before I left my parents' house, I decided to visit the site alone.

The place was in a neighboring town, just a short drive or bike ride away, but a bit far on foot. Feeling nostalgic about being back home after so long, I walked along the familiar roads, taking in the mix of old and new scenery. I wondered how much had changed—or perhaps, how much had stayed the same.
The cliffs that used to be terraced fields now stood abandoned, replaced by scattered chestnut trees, likely due to the lack of successors to tend the land. Where clusters of old houses once stood, modern condominiums had taken their place, forming a new urban landscape. Small mountains had been leveled, replaced by steep roads that erased their existence.
What had happened to the landscapes of my childhood memories?
A faint sadness welled up in me, but at the same time, I felt a certain anticipation—how would this place, still holding traces of the countryside, transform into a modern, convenient urban district?
After walking for a while, I began to see rows of newer residential streets. As I moved between them, a small grove of trees came into view at the edge of the neighborhood. Near a bend in the road along those woods, I spotted the house.
Or rather, what remained of it.
The pillars and foundations were blackened and covered in soot. The wreckage looked unstable, as if it could collapse at any moment.
As far as I could remember, the fire had occurred in October 2024—just two months ago. It had been caused by an accident while frying food in the kitchen.
A family of four had lived in the house: a father, a mother, an older sister, and a younger brother. The parents had managed to escape safely, but the sister and brother were never found.
Due to privacy concerns, the media soon stopped covering the incident. To this day, no further details had been revealed. Perhaps the lack of public attention was because the missing siblings were already adults. The story barely surfaced on social media or news aggregation sites, and gradually, people stopped talking about the fire altogether.
The only ones who still talk about it were probably people like me—people with too much time on their hands.
Naturally, there were no reporters or so-called "citizen journalists" near the wreckage. The place was deserted, save for the occasional cries of crows and the distant hooting of owls.
I stepped closer to the remains of the house and then froze.

There was no one there. No, there should have been no one there.
However, when I looked carefully, I noticed a man kneeling at the edge of the wreckage, sifting through the debris with his fingers. He appeared young, likely in his late twenties. He wore a long coat over a sweater, black jeans, and expensive-looking leather shoes. A thin silver chain bracelet adorned his wrist.
I hesitated for a moment but decided he might have some information. I approached him.
"Um, excuse me. What are you doing here?"
I realized my tone sounded accusatory, but it was dangerous to be near such unstable wreckage. That was the main reason I had spoken up.
The young man turned to look at me. His long bangs partially covered his eyes, but something about his slender frame and refined features held my attention. Even as a heterosexual man, I found myself briefly captivated—so I imagined a woman might have an even stronger impression of him.
He stood up and faced me directly.
With his unsoiled hand, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a photograph.
"I used to live here. My name is Sugami Hoshiaki. I just came to take a look."
I glanced at the photograph he held out. It was a picture of a family of four, all smiling—the father, the mother, the older sister dressed neatly in a navy blue jacket and tight skirt, and a young man in a brand-new suit standing beside her.
The only person in the photo without a smile was the one standing at the edge.
I looked up at him.
"When you say you were used to live here… The news reported that a family of four lived in this house, but the sister and son went missing in the fire. Are you saying that you're… the son?"
"Yeah. That's right. You figured that out quickly."
He tucked the photograph back into his pocket. I stared at him in disbelief. However, curiosity got the better of me, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out my next question.
"I'm still interested in what happened here. What happened after the fire?"
He laughed coldly. His long bangs shifted slightly, revealing one eye through the strands of hair.
For a moment, he looked like a model or a celebrity.
"What happened, you ask? Well, I don't mind telling you. Let’s talk while we walk. I have something to do a little ways from here anyway."
Before I could respond, he had already started walking past me.
I hurried after him and quickly introduced myself to his back.
"Um, I'm Tsugawa Eita, by the way."
Sugami turned his head slightly and glanced at me. Then, out of nowhere, he gave a small, unreadable smile.
Was he really smiling? Or was he mocking me, thinking I was some kind of nosy influencer?
I had no idea what his sudden smile meant. I raised my eyebrows slightly, but he didn’t bother to explain.
"……Good to meet you."
His vague smile lingered, and without another word, we walked side by side through the quiet residential streets.

Chapter 2 The man who I met

Later, through conversation, I discovered that he had graduated from the same primary and junior high school as me. Although we had different teachers since we were not in the same grade, the buildings and classroom layout of both schools had remained unchanged.
We became engrossed in reminiscing about the school—memories that only those who had attended could understand.
"Oh, right. There was indeed a mirror on the landing of the primary school stairs, on the second floor, I think. In front of that mirror, near the evening—," he said.
"There's a rumor that if you spin around three times and call 'Hanako-san' three times in front of the mirror, she will appear. Nobody believed it when I was in primary school. My friends and I preferred going home early to play instead of doing that. People even thought such rumors were pretty lame at my age," I said.
"Really? So, there's also a haunted house near the primary school where no one lives, and you can enter through a small window?" he asked.
I tilted my head slightly. I vaguely recalled hearing something about that rumor from someone.
"Oh, I think I heard about that... but it was just a bluff from one of my seniors. It was probably dismissed as a lie or a made-up story back in my year. You know, like when you watch ‘Stand by Me’—no one actually thinks of acting like the kids in the movie," I said.
The nostalgic film ‘Stand by Me’. It tells the story of a group of boys going on a summer adventure, but my summers were nothing like that. My childhood summers were spent indoors, playing video games with friends, laughing at TV shows, diligently doing homework, attending cram school, and watching fireworks with my family.
I got carried away and shared the story I had heard back then with Sugami.
"When I was in primary school, people talked about the school’s scary rumors and the haunted house nearby, but it was mostly a joke. Besides, the ritual to summon 'Hanako-san' in the mirror is supposed to be on the second floor of the primary school, right? Even the schoolchildren would say, 'Isn't that the only part of the story where there’s no ‘3’?" I said.
He let out a small laugh, but it was a dry, almost grown-up laugh.
"The truth is," he said, "there’s a phantom ground floor in that primary school. A long time ago, the ground floor was severely damaged in a major earthquake, and part of it had to be rebuilt. When it was still a wooden school building. That big mirror was brought in during the reconstruction. ...Oh, so no one ever told you the full story?"
My eyes widened slightly in surprise.
I didn’t know. I had always thought it was just an old mirror, but was it actually from the old school building?
I doubted there were any teachers left who knew that much about it.
I adjusted the slightly misaligned frames of my glasses with my fingers.
"So, there used to be a lot of scary rumors back in your time," I said.
I walked away, crossing my arms, my right hand gripping my left elbow.
"But you see, what I really want to ask is what really happened to you last October. What on earth happened at the scene of that fire? It was reported that only your parents escaped, but what happened after that?"
I chose my words carefully, but curiosity is a tricky thing. In the end, the question came out more direct than I intended.
Feeling a bit impatient, I glanced at Sugami’s profile.
But Sugami was walking without looking at me at all. I had no idea what to say to him. I couldn't even guess what he was feeling.
"Oh... that story…"
After a long pause, Sugami finally spoke. Even standing close to him, I could feel his reluctance to talk about it.
He sighed.
"You can talk about it, but what's being reported in the media and what actually happened are two very different things."
"What do you mean...?"
I asked, confused. He suddenly stopped walking.
Are there big secrets hidden? I raised my eyebrows and stayed silent.
Since we were in a residential area, we stopped by a nearby concrete wall. Lowering his voice, Sugami spoke.
"The debt. The debt that the family had kept ballooning and couldn't be repaid. Whenever my father’s business failed, he would take out his frustration on my mother and me. We were used to being his stressful target.
Then, one day, my mother suddenly disappeared. She went missing.
Even so, that man was so good at manipulating people that even our neighbors felt sorry for him. When he finally found her, my mother apologized to the police and to him. I still remember how thin she looked... like a completely different person, even after just a few weeks."
His face twisted slightly in disgust as he spoke.
Regret washed over me.
I was the one who wanted to know the truth. But did I really need to make him say all this?
I was nothing more than a stranger to him.
"So, do you think the fire was somehow connected to all of that…?"
"Ah, maybe."
His tone was bitter, almost spitting out the words.
"I don’t know what that man is thinking, but because of him, I stopped going to university. My sister even thought about committing suicide. No one—no one except my family—knows how trapped and tormented we were because of him."
His sharp glare pierced through me.
An unbearable fear gripped me as I saw the raw hatred in his eyes.
"But... you live apart from your father now, don’t you? Then isn’t that... a good thing? You consequently managed to escape the fire," I said hesitantly.
"'That’s good?' Well, maybe from an outsider’s perspective."
His voice carried a hint of contempt. He looked me straight in the eye, making no attempt to break eye contact.
"I've told you about the fire. That’s enough. Go ahead, write whatever baseless gossip you want on your blog. That’s what you’ve been after from the start, isn’t it?"
I quickly raised my hand in a placating gesture.
"I don’t post baseless rumors on my blog. Nowadays, with copyright issues, personal rights, and reputations at stake, things like that are really tricky. But... well, it’s true that I came to the fire scene because I had time on my hands. And I’m really sorry for prying into your family affairs. I apologize."
I studied his face, hoping for some sign of forgiveness.
Looking at him closely, he didn’t seem like a bad person. I had asked too many personal questions, and I truly regretted it.
I just hoped he wouldn’t be too harsh on me.
After a few moments, he finally looked away, turning his head to the side. His gaze was fixed on the path ahead.
Then, without warning, he turned on his heel and started walking away.
"Uh, where are you going? The station is this way," I blurted out.
He suddenly stopped and glanced back at me.
I immediately regretted speaking. But hindsight is always clearer. Once an arrow is loosed, it never returns.
"It’s my sister’s place. There are things I need to check on," he muttered.
With that, he walked away, leaving me behind alone.

Chapter 3 The investigation part 1

Since then, I've been following Sugami, but I lost sight of him.
I know he won't forgive me, but something about the fire incident is bothering me. Of course, I know that the whole family is safe.
Still, I can't help but wonder about my sister's condition. She is safe, yes, but I wonder if she is struggling mentally.
With this thought in mind, I followed the figure ahead, hiding myself behind telephone poles in a residential area.
However, my clumsy attempt at detective work came to an abrupt end. I realized that I had completely lost sight of Sugami.
I looked around and found myself in front of an old apartment building.
It was a small, three-story building with white walls. There was no parking space in front, but the building was well-maintained, with neatly arranged plants and flower beds. The entrance was not auto-locked. A non-resident could enter the premises and visit the apartments freely.
Although it wasn't a modern building with robust security, it looked like a comfortable place to live.
As I stood in front of the apartment, I heard voices coming from the left side of the premises. Apparently, there was a parking lot behind the building, and the owners of the voices seemed to be walking from there.
"Hey! Don't touch me."
I heard a sharp sound, like a tap on the arm.
I quickly turned my attention to the source and saw a man and a woman walking from the parking lot toward the front of the apartment. They looked to be in their sixties and did not seem like a particularly close couple.
Hiding in the shadows of the trees, I continued watching as they talked.
"You know, there are a lot of strange people around these days. It’s pretty obvious, isn't it? You just have to think of it as bad luck," the woman said bitterly.
The man hesitated before replying, "But, you know, I can’t believe the car came all the way to this residential area and parked on the street. What should we do? I don’t want to get involved with that sort of thing either..."
The woman scoffed and mercilessly continued, "Ever since that woman called 'Sugami' moved in, she's been nothing but trouble."
She then walked briskly toward the apartment gate. I quickly hid behind the trees, making sure she wouldn’t see me.
Soon after, the sharp-tongued woman disappeared into the residential area, and I let out a breath of relief.
Looking around the apartment grounds, I noticed that the man was still there, carefully tending to the plants.
Making sure no one else was around, I stepped onto the apartment premises.
"Um, excuse me."
The man looked up at the sound of my voice, startled by my sudden appearance.
He seemed unsure of what to say, but I decided to be direct.
"I overheard your conversation just now. Is there a man named Sugami living here?" I asked.
"Sugami...? Oh..."
The man immediately looked hesitant and troubled.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s a sign saying ‘No entry except for authorized personnel,’ you know," he said, his tone firm.
"Well, I think Sugami-san's older sister lives here. But isn’t she living with someone else?" I pressed.
The man momentarily froze at my words. His mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes were fixed on me.
But the look soon faded.
"That’s ridiculous. I don’t know what young people are thinking these days, but get the hell away from me. It’s annoying. If you try anything more, I’ll call the police," he snapped.
At the mention of the police, I immediately stopped my questioning. Any further conversation wouldn’t be in my favor.
"Okay, I understand. I’m sorry if I caused any trouble. I apologize."
I quickly gathered my words and left the apartment grounds.
Talking to elderly people is always exhausting. These days, even communicating with my own parents is becoming difficult. Every year, it gets harder and harder to have conversations with them.
They are no longer the parents I once knew. They have changed over time, just as I have.
As much as I hate to admit it, my relationship with my parents has become like the redevelopment project near their home—something unfamiliar, something distant.
This is one of the reasons I don’t visit them often.
Wandering through the residential area, I thought about what to do next.
Looking up at the sky, I saw that it was already dusk.
Should I go to the shopping street in front of the station and buy some ‘Imagawa-yaki’?
I’ve loved ‘Imagawa-yaki’ from long-established shops since I was a child. Whenever I went to the shopping arcade nearby the station, I would beg my parents to buy them for me.
The dough—made by mixing flour, eggs, and sugar with water—is poured into a reddish-bronze mold, then filled with ingredients like red bean paste or custard cream.
These days, there are many variations, including white bean paste, chocolate cream, and matcha cream. It has long been a popular quick snack.
In addition to being called Imagawa-yaki, this snack goes by different names depending on the region, such as 'Ōbanyaki,' 'Oyaki,' and 'Kaiten-yaki.'
In Taiwan, it is known as 'Ché lún bǐng' (wheel cake).
This beloved snack has changed in taste and name across different parts of the world.
The thought of it almost brought a smile to my lips as I continued toward the shopping street.
No, I intended to—
However, something held me back for real.

"Boy, I need to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."
I heard a man's voice behind me and I quickly turned around.
A man in a suit stood there, expressionless. He had neatly brushed hair and a slender figure. Judging from his appearance, he looked like a salesman or a company employee. At the very least, he didn’t look like a police officer.
"Well, for example, what would it be about?" I asked.
I was caught off guard and couldn't respond calmly.
Suddenly, a stranger was questioning me—though, come to think of it, I had done the same thing earlier today.
"Ah, first of all, here."
The man took out a business card and handed it to me. It read: Hinagi Detective Agency - Hinagi Ariho.
Detective? I looked up at him.
"It seems you were talking to the landlord of that apartment earlier. Or are you a relative of his?" he asked.
"Eh? No, no relation at all... I just happened to overhear the conversation in the apartment," I replied.
"The conversation in the apartment?"
Hinagi raised an eyebrow, looking suspicious.
I briefly summarized what the landlord and the woman had been talking about.
"So, you're saying that you were curious about Sugami-san’s situation and approached the landlord?"
"Yes, I did, but..."
Hearing my response, a furrow formed between Hinagi's brows.
I had a bad feeling. I wanted to get away from him and head to the shopping district as soon as possible.
"What is your relationship with Sugami-san? Are you related?"
"No, no. I just met her for the first time today. I heard that Sugami-san's mental state is apparently unstable. I got curious and came here, but I don’t even know her room number..."
"Oh, I see. So you were just passing by that apartment?"
"Yes. I’m really just a passerby..."
"Then let me ask you something—do you really know the reason for Sugami-san's unstable state of mind?"
His voice was sharp and cold.
How could he ask such a blunt question so mercilessly? Shouldn't he have been more considerate?
Then again, he was just a total stranger to me until moments ago. I would probably never see him again.
I took a deep breath, regained my composure, and answered his question.
"It's because of that incident. There was a fire in the neighborhood—over there, right? That incident was part of the reason."
Surprisingly, Hinagi fell silent at my words. After a pause, he placed a hand over his mouth, lost in thought. Then, he muttered in a low voice,
"As I thought... so that's what it means."
"What do you mean? Can I go now? I was in the middle of something," I said.
I had just blurted out my excuse without much thought.
Hinagi looked at me, and suddenly, his expression softened slightly.
"Yes, I’m sorry for keeping you. You can go now."
I couldn’t understand his true intentions at all, though he probably had his own reasons.
Still unsure of what had just happened, I left Hinagi behind and walked toward the shopping street.
Vague, unfamiliar thoughts clung to my mind like dregs.
They swirled and made a faint noise, like the tide of the sea.
Like a cacophony.
As if the rustling of leaves in the trees, the sound folded in on itself all at once— a rustle...

Chapter 4 The investigation part 2

The next day, I was walking around in front of the station for no particular reason. After waking up early in the morning, I stayed in my room with nothing to do, but I decided that a morning walk was not a bad idea, so I went outside.
Perhaps because it was a little after 7:00 a.m., I could see only a few people in front of the station.
Surprisingly, the area in front of the station had not changed much since I was a child. There was a supermarket open until late at night nearby, a convenience store, and the same old flower shop, Western-style restaurant, izakaya (Japanese-style pub), and chain restaurants.
I could have wandered around the area aimlessly, but this was a small suburban station, not a large one. After a few dozen minutes of walking, there was not much to see.
I walked around for a while before turning my attention to a nearby park.
It was a small park near the station. It had some playground equipment, and on holidays, I often saw parents and children visiting. I entered the park and looked around the area where there were benches.
I spotted a lone visitor sitting on one of the benches. He was wearing a long down jacket, and underneath it, he had on a warm knit sweater, navy blue jeans, and sneakers.
—Sugami sat there alone.
I waved lightly and called out to Sugami.
Today, his expression looked somewhat listless. I wondered if something was wrong with him.
Sitting next to him, I hesitated, unsure of what to say. In the end, I settled for a simple greeting.
"Good morning. It's cold again today."
Sugami didn't seem particularly interested in me. He merely gave a small nod.
I was puzzled but managed to continue the conversation.
"Is your house close to here? If you graduated from an elementary or junior high school in this area, your parents' house must be nearby, right?"
"...... Oh."
Again, Sugami's response was brief. It seemed he didn't want to talk.
I didn't want to force him into a conversation either. Maybe it was time to go back to my parents' house and eat tangerines under the kotatsu (a heated table).
"Do you talk to your parents at home?"
I turned to him.
Well, I at least have normal conversations with my parents. They are my parents, after all.
"What about your rebellious phase?"
My rebellious phase...? I wondered. When I was in high school, I had some fights with my father about my career path, but that was about it.
At that time, I loved manga and anime. I had a big fight with my father about my future, to the point that I kicked and broke part of a wall in our house. Not something I'm proud of at all.
Later, my gentle mother had sighed and said, "It's a good thing we live in a detached house, not an apartment." Now, I regret having acted so foolishly in a moment of passion.
I remember it clearly—I had to sit upright in front of my parents while they scolded me for hours.
Sugami looked at me and then stared at my face.

"Did your father ever hit you?" he asked.
I fell silent at the sudden question. My father had lectured me before, but I had no memory of him hitting me.
“That... Sugami, were you beaten by your father?"
"Yes. I'm not sure how many times."
I looked at him in surprise, but he didn't seem to notice.
"The only person who was kind to me in that house was my sister," he said. "After the fire, my parents changed their attitude, but it was too late. My father beat me. My mother pretended not to see, using me as a shield to avoid his violence. I'm truly glad I was able to leave that house. Looking back, I don’t think I ever needed to be in that hellish environment."

He continued, "After I was beaten, my sister would always sneak up to tend to my wounds. Even when it hurt and my skin was bruised, I couldn’t raise my voice. I don’t know where she learned it, but she quickly treated my injuries, smiling and saying, ‘Pain, pain, go away!’
Because of her kindness, she ended up like that. My sister, she is now is not the same as the one she used to be. Her heart broke, and she has changed."
Sugami buried his face in his hands, trying to hide his tears. Something had hurt him deeply.

"One day, I came home from high school, and that man was there instead of being at work. I tried to go straight to my room, but he stopped me.
Then he said, ‘You're in love with your own sister, aren't you?’
I tried to argue, but he wouldn't listen. He wanted me to lie.
He hit me over and over again."

I could hear his choking sobs. I could do nothing but listen in silence.
"I was actually afraid to see my sister because of what happened. I don’t know what to do with my life now. I can't forget the kind sister I once knew. I really want her back—the way she used to be.”

I thought back to yesterday. I remembered the apartment where his sister supposedly lived. The landlord and the woman I had spoken to didn’t have a good impression of her. That much was clear.
No one truly knows another person's past unless they are told. Unlike before, the bonds between neighbors in this area aren’t strong anymore.
A past that distorts a person's heart and a life—how could anyone easily guess something like that?

I looked at Sugami and murmured, "Would you like to go to that apartment with me?"
Sugami lifted his head and looked at me. Through a gap in his long bangs, his slightly wet eyes met mine.
He looked as if he couldn’t believe what I had said.
"It’s all right," I told him. "When something important comes up, I’ll leave the room."
I watched as he wiped his tears away, then followed him off the bench and out of the park.

Chapter 5 The person who is next to you

Walking through the residential area, we headed toward the apartment from yesterday.
It was morning, and the streets were quiet. Hardly anyone was around.
Maybe it was because it was the end of the year. Most people had already finished work and were spending their holidays at home.
As I neared the apartment, I still didn’t see anyone around. It was so silent that it didn’t even feel like a residential area.
Looking through the shadows of the trees, I spotted the apartment building. Yesterday, I had looked for the landlord. But today, for some reason, a woman I knew was sweeping dead leaves from the ground with a broom.
"Oh my."
She noticed my gaze and called out to me in a friendly tone.
"Good morning. What brings you to this apartment?"
Her demeanor was completely different from yesterday. The change was so drastic that I momentarily wondered if she had a split personality. Today, her expression was calm, almost indifferent.

I was caught off guard but managed to reply after a brief pause.
"Good morning. I'm here to see Sugami-san’s sister."
"Sugami-san? Oh."
The woman gave a small nod and resumed sweeping, as if uninterested.
When I glanced at Sugami, I noticed that he had already started walking toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
I assumed that Sugami's sister lived upstairs.
We climbed the stairs and reached the second floor, walking straight from one end to the opposite side.
The corner room. It was the one on the far right when viewed from the front of the building.
As I stood before the door, I noticed something unexpected—it wasn’t an old-fashioned entrance. A modern intercom with a small round camera was installed. If I recalled correctly, this type could record and display visitors from inside.
Just as I was inspecting the intercom, I heard a faint noise from the neighboring unit.
A moment later, the door next to us opened.
The neighbor, a man in his mid-30s, stepped out. He was wearing a suit, suggesting he was heading to work—though at this hour, he was likely running late.
"...... Excuse me," I called out hesitantly.
He turned his gaze toward me.
"What is it?"
His expression was blunt, and his eyes swept over me from head to toe, assessing me with an unkind look. Well, I was a complete stranger to him—I could understand his wariness.
Still, something about his attitude made me uncomfortable.
I adjusted my glasses with my fingers and continued, "No, I mean..."
I hesitated before pointing toward the parking lot at the back of the apartment.
"You didn't park your car there without permission, did you? I overheard the landlord talking about it yesterday."

The man frowned.
"What are you talking about? I pay the landlord a monthly parking fee."
His tone was arrogant, defensive.
"No, you see," I continued, "I was walking by this apartment yesterday, and a strange detective approached me. He asked about Sugami-san, who lives here, and about the recent fire. I thought maybe he had mistaken Sugami-san for someone else—perhaps you, a neighbor of Sugami-san."
"Detective?"
The man looked puzzled. He furrowed his brows, considering something for a moment, then muttered, almost too quickly—
"Oh, perhaps my wife—"
"Your wife?"
I immediately seized on his slip of the tongue.
He had spoken too fast, too carelessly.
But there was no way I could miss it.

I gingerly leaned forward, trying to get a clear view of the doorway where the man had been standing. However, from my position, the front door blocked my line of sight. Through the open entrance, I had no way of knowing whether there was any sign of the man's roommate.
But no matter how I looked at it, everything pointed to the man living alone. There was no indication that he currently shared his home with a woman.
It was just a hunch, but I was probably not far off the mark—though I couldn’t be completely sure.
"I mean, you know, we're divorced, but..."

The man muttered as if he had given up. His voice trailed off toward the end, and I couldn't quite catch the last part.
Then, he shot me a sharp look, startled.
"Well, don't pry into my affairs. I'm busy here."
With that, he turned and descended the stairs.
Only Sugami and I remained behind.

"What in the world is this... all about?"
I murmured, still unable to grasp what was happening.
"It's probably a sham divorce," Sugami said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"It means they're pretending to be divorced. Either the detective came because the so-called 'divorced' wife has a boyfriend, or that man has a girlfriend. Either way, it seems like his wife's side hired the detective to investigate."
As Sugami spoke, the pieces finally clicked into place.
I see. I suppose there are married couples like that in the world. No wonder the detective from yesterday had asked me so many direct questions.

I turned back to Sugami and watched as he walked toward his sister's room.
He pressed the intercom button with his finger.
But no matter how many times he rang, there was no response.
I could see the disappointment in his face—an unmistakable sadness.
It must have been bad timing. I cast a sympathetic glance at him.
Just as I was about to suggest we come back later, he looked at me.
"Thank you for coming all the way here with me," he said.
For a moment, I was caught off guard. I hadn’t expected him to thank me.
Looking at him closely, I noticed his face was softer than usual.
Considering his family situation, I supposed it was only natural.
I waved my hands dismissively.
"No, it's nothing. It’s no big deal."
We made our way down the stairs to the first floor.
The woman I had seen earlier was gone, and instead, the landlord was tending to the garden.
The landlord looked up as I approached.
"Well, I apologize for yesterday," I said, bowing lightly.
"Today, I came with Sugami-san to visit his sister."
The landlord glanced at me, then at Sugami. He looked back and forth between us before nodding slightly.
"Oh, I see. Now that I think about it, his eyes do resemble hers."
With that, the landlord returned to his work in the garden, no longer paying us any attention.
I was momentarily taken aback but quickly composed myself.
"Thank you for your time..." I murmured before walking past him and leaving the apartment grounds.
After walking for a while, I turned toward my own apartment.
Making sure neither the landlord nor the woman was nearby, I turned to Sugami.
I couldn’t deny that my tone carried a slight edge.

"I wonder what the hell is going on in that apartment. First, there’s a detective lurking around. Then, there’s that woman—she knows the landlord, but she acts so strangely. Her personality changes so drastically depending on the day that she almost seems like a completely different person."
Sugami glanced back toward the apartment before replying.
"That woman is probably the landlord’s girlfriend. My older sister once told me that she has high blood pressure or is going through menopause—something like that. Apparently, it causes her mood to change drastically between morning and afternoon. The tenants there don’t think too highly of her."
"Oh, so that’s how it is."
I was partially impressed, but I wasn’t especially interested in the relationships there. There was nothing more for me to say.
As I let the topic drop, I turned my gaze toward the sky. The crisp, fresh morning air filled my lungs, clearing my thoughts.
Something about the coolness of the morning awakened my senses and lightened my mood.
I suddenly felt like heading toward the front of the station.
It was almost time for my favorite sweet shop to open. Buying a few treats as souvenirs didn’t seem like a bad idea.
With that in mind, I turned back toward Sugami.
I was about to say, 'Why don't we go to the shopping street together and buy something to eat?'
But before the words left my mouth—

"Hey, you there, can I talk to you for a minute?"
I heard a man's voice from behind me and flinched in surprise.
Could it be that detective, Hinagi?
I turned around with frustration, wondering if he still had more questions for me.
"Mr. Hinagi, please stop this. I have nothing to do with that apartment," I said.
But when I saw the owner of the voice, I was speechless.
It wasn't Hinagi.
It was a policeman.
Hinagi was nowhere to be seen. I stood there, frozen.
"Please show me your ID."
The policeman's request snapped me out of my daze. I took my student ID from my wallet and handed it to him. After checking it, he asked to see my bag. Without hesitation, I handed him the side pouch I had slung over my shoulder.
As he examined my belongings, I glanced behind me and saw another officer speaking with Sugami.
Sugami must have noticed my gaze because he shot me a meaningful look before walking away with the policeman.
I stood there, stunned.
I had no idea what was happening.
The officer handed back my bag, and I blurted out, "Well, what’s wrong with Sugami? I didn’t do anything to him..."
The policeman raised an eyebrow but quickly dismissed me. "We’re done here," he said before walking away.
I remained still, gripping my bag, unable to process the situation.

I wandered toward the shopping arcade, my mind clouded with confusion.
Before I knew it, I had arrived at a sweet shop I had loved since childhood. It was famous for its delicious ‘Imagawa-yaki’.
As I stepped inside, the owner's wife greeted me with her usual warm, booming voice. She hadn’t changed a bit.
Still dazed, I told her about the things that had happened with me. She listened silently, then placed a firm hand on my shoulder and led me to the edge of the shop. Lowering her voice, she whispered:
"That man—he became infamous in this shopping arcade while you were away. He caused a lot of trouble."
"Trouble?" I echoed.
She nodded several times. After checking that no one was nearby, she continued:
"I actually know his parents. They're very kind people. But they say they don’t have a good relationship with him. Lately, when they try to talk to him, he doesn’t respond at all. They say they have no idea what he’s thinking anymore. They cry when they talk about it.
And yet, he still lives in the same house with them.
Apparently, he was caught stalking his ex-girlfriend from university. Since then, he hasn’t held a stable job. He’s been involved with married women, and some say they’ve seen him dating college girls. Well, that part might just be a rumor.
Sometimes he dresses like a model, right? Because of that, people talk all sorts of rumors about him... but in truth, hardly anyone knows what he’s really up to.
Either way, you mustn’t get involved with someone like him. He lies about everything. Even that strange picture he made..."
I frowned. "A picture? What do you mean?"
Her expression turned sorrowful.
"Lately, he’s been telling people he used to live where that burned-down house now stands. He even made a fake family photo to prove it."
The moment those words left her lips, my world shattered.

—Lies?
No. It couldn’t be.
Everything he had told me—was it all fabricated? A twisted, elaborate deception for stalking someone?
I felt a sickening lurch in my stomach. The world tilted.

Then what about the fire? The family name 'Sugami', he mentioned from the beginning?
The older sister? The family that supposedly perished in that house?
The photograph—the one he showed me with his hands? The stories he poured out in the park?
The tears that I saw on his face? The unbearable weight of his suffering?
The apartment where his sister was supposed to live—had he ever pressed the intercom?

The questions clawed at my mind, vicious and relentless.
No, no, no.
I held my head in my hands. If I didn't, I would have screamed out loud.
What had I been seeing and hearing all this time?

"Pity," the shop owner’s wife murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
"It is all lies. Everything he says... "

End.