Chapter 84

"Really. It seems I have the upper hand this time. All that's left is to examine the other evidence and confirm that this reasoning holds up."

I had underestimated her.

From everything I'd seen so far, I'd pegged her as a mere apprentice detective who could only manage vague deductions. I'd planned to wait and see whether her reasoning actually convinced me.

Just as when Detective Chikage had failed before, I had no choice but to hunt for evidence myself.

With that thought, I answered her.

"Yes... but couldn't that evidence have been destroyed?"

"Ah, that's why I've assigned another female detective to keep an eye on Misora right now."

"Then there's no longer any danger of it being destroyed?"

"Exactly. More importantly—"

"More importantly?"

Before beginning her reasoning, she seemed bothered by something; she stared hard at my back.

"Could you do something about that blood-stained back of yours?"

"Ah, I forgot."

"If you like, I'll have the detective buy you a change of clothes."

"Would that expense come out of the police budget...? I mean, that sounds like an abuse of authority—or something seriously improper."

"Oh, no—I'll pay for it myself."

"Detective Chikage will?"

Maybe having her reasoning worked out put her in a good mood; Detective Chikage became so unnaturally gentle that I felt a stab of distrust.

I gave an awkward smile, whereupon Detective Chikage, half-pouting yet in a bright tone, said, "My, how rude." I couldn't tell whether she was angry or amused, but she didn't seem emotionally unstable.

While I was still unsettled by the strangeness of it all, she smiled at me again.

"I'm grateful to you, Hyoga-kun. After all, you carried Reira-chan out of those flames—out of such danger."

"......I couldn't save her life, though."

Thrown by the sudden thanks, I answered with a twist of sarcasm. She paid my attitude no mind and thanked me again.

"No... there was nothing anyone could have done. But at least—at least Reira-chan didn't disappear into the flames alone. Thank you for letting me see her one last time."

"W-well... I only did what the truth required. If the situation had been any more dangerous..."

"You don't need to be modest. Whatever your motives, what you did wasn't wrong."

Being praised by her—by my mortal enemy of a detective—sent a bizarre shiver of discomfort racing through me.

I took a small step backward and bumped into the railing. Careful not to fall, I started to turn around—and suddenly noticed the bloodstained section between my back and stomach. The blood on my clothes was Reira-san's.

Checking, I realized the blood she'd smeared on me ran from head to foot. She must have bled from both ends when she hit the ground.

While puzzling over the blood, I stumbled upon one absurd little truth.

The length didn't match. Comparing the span of blood on my clothes—from the topmost to the bottommost stain—with the length of the railing on the catwalk, the railing was longer.

That contradicted what I'd assumed so far. I'd been convinced Reira-san had been forced to jump for a particular reason.

This suggested she might have slipped through a small gap beneath the railing and simply fallen.

It wasn't a crucial point, but I wanted to be thorough. While I was double-checking my reasoning, Detective Chikage—still thanking me—glanced at the railing and declared:

"Because Hyoga-kun carried her, we know exactly what her shoes looked like. We even know the scuff marks. Right, Detective Akaba? That rusty spot here was on the shoes Reira-chan was wearing."

What Detective Chikage indicated with her hand was a scrape on the back side of the railing, visible from atop the catwalk. The mark looked fresh; it must have been made when Reira-san vaulted over.

Detective Akaba also stated flatly, "No mistake."

Which meant Reira-san had definitely jumped over. If she'd rolled or slipped through the gap below, such a mark could never have appeared.

I began to lose track of the reasoning I'd built up. Was my perception wrong? Or had I made some terrible mistake?

The case was starting to slip from my grasp. Right now, maybe I should investigate motives instead of searching for the truth.

Then I'd better question the people involved. Seize the day—I tried to slip past Detective Chikage to act at once.

At that moment, a heavy thud—basa—something fell onto the stage. Everyone spun around to look.

I was one of them, my heart racing at what might have happened.

I quickly climbed down the ladder, checked where it had landed, and headed straight for the gap between the horizon backdrop and the black backdrop. What had fallen was a batten.

Apparently a firing device had been attached here too; the part supporting the batten at the ceiling was scorched. Yet, oddly, thin threads—white and black—clung here and there to the batten.

"......huh...?"

Before my mind could catch up, a woman stepped onto the stage. She must have been ordered to appear for Detective Chikage's reasoning show.

"Hey! I'm not the one with a motive! The one with a motive is Professor Shishido, threatened by her, or the other students, right? I was in a position to look down on that girl!"

It was Misora. Next, Professor Shishido approached from the side and objected.

"Hey! I've got an alibi too! And so do you! You kept saying her selfishness was driving her idol fans to riot!"

It fell to Senior Kiriyama to calm the uproar.

"Both of you, please. If you're not the culprit, act with more composure..."

I almost wanted to pat him on the back and say, "Good work." Professor Shishido said to that senior:

"You had a grudge too, didn't you? Reira was going to have you dropped from today's stage role! I managed to keep the chatty marquis part, though."

"Professor Shishido, I have an alibi as well—those high-schoolers I brought were with me. I'm not a child; that's hardly motive for murder. I got the role, after all."

Their conversation was full of possible motives. In the meantime, the likelihood that Misora was the culprit grew stronger.

But at the same moment, I found the evidence.

I stepped outside for a moment and took the liberty of searching that person's bag. Evidence that might or might not be there. Heart pounding, I tried to find it.

If it wasn't in the bag, I'd check in front of the dressing room too. Nowhere. I looked everywhere, eyes darting, but it wasn't there.

Its absence was the evidence.

I had stumbled upon something unbelievable.