1

Approximately half an hour before the appointed meeting time, the Crimes Circle room was dead silent. The only sound that found its way in came from outside the window, from the many sports clubs diligently practicing on the school grounds.

However, that silence did not imply that the room was empty—in fact, there were currently two occupants waiting here.

Sitting on opposite couches, directly facing one another, were Kanshou Kisuke and Araya Ryuuo. An odd pair by anyone’s standards, and clearly not one that manifested any sort of lively conversation.

In truth, Kanshou wanted to try talking to Araya, but the young man was already hopelessly timid around anyone, let alone this particular upperclassman, who seemed liable to bite his face off for bothering him, a mental image that kept Kanshou firmly in check.

Thus, the silence stretched on for a while, with Kanshou fidgeting awkwardly and Araya lounging about with a bored expression on his face, until it was at last broken by the sound of the door opening.

“Hoh, already here? I see you two are eager to hear today’s deduction. That’s very heartening indeed.” The intruder was none other than Shirahama Ryoukai, the president of the Circle. Kanshou couldn’t remember any time when he’d been gladder to see the arrival of this overly talkative man.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much. I just didn’t have anythin’ better to do,” Araya spat out.

“Oh, but that’s flattering enough already. To think my humble little deduction would be the best entertainment option currently available to a man such as yourself, it’s nothing short of an honor. I’ll make sure to live up to it.”

“...Hmph.” Shirahama’s perpetually grandiose manner of speech made it difficult to tell whether he was being genuine or condescending, so Araya just scoffed and looked away.

A smile still plastered to his face, Shirahama walked past the two and settled in front of the window, overlooking the bustling club activity outside.

And then a few minutes passed by without a word once more. Just as Kanshou began to worry that he would be stuck in a perpetual awkward silence forever, Shirahama called out again, without turning around.

“Out of curiosity, what do you think about these deductions? Do you think we’re getting any closer to the truth like this?”

“Heh, no point askin’ me, at least. I’m one of the losers, after all,” Araya sarcastically pointed out.

“But that’s precisely why I’d like to know your answer, Araya-kun,” Shirahama responded emphatically. “You came up with a theory which you firmly believed to be the truth, and yet it was refuted just like that. I’d like to know the perspective of someone who’s experienced that.”

“...” Araya glared harshly at the president for a while, before seemingly giving up and shrugging. “Hell if I know. Maybe someone smarter than me will figure it out?”

“I see. And what about you, Kanshou-kun?” Shirahama turned his head to look at the first-year boy.

Kanshou looked down, thinking for a few moments before saying, “...I-I’d like to think that if we all work together, we can figure it out.”

“Hah! Just the kinda opinion I’d expect from someone who’s useless on his own,” Araya interjected with a mean-spirited cackle.

“I wouldn’t recommend underestimating others, Araya-kun,” chided Shirahama. “But I see. Collaboration, huh. I suppose that’s a valid way of thinking—”

Shirahama trailed off, starting out the window for a few moments, before bluntly putting forth his next statement.

“—But if you ask me, I think we’ll never find the truth of this case.”

This declaration of defeat, uttered without a trace of frustration or any other kind of strong emotion, stunned the two young men for a moment.

“...What, you givin’ up already?” asked Araya.

“No, no, of course, I have a deduction that I intend to present here today, a deduction I am quite confident about,” Shirahama assured. “However… I have a feeling that it won’t hold. Just like the others before it, it’ll crumble into dust soon enough.”

“Well, I dunno, just sounds like you have a shitty theory you don’t believe in enough. Don’t blame anyone else for that.”

“But how can we know the truth? We’re just outsiders, just amateurs without a stake in anything. How can we know that we aren’t just spinning plausible fantasies to satisfy ourselves?”

Araya stood up from his sofa and glared at Shirahama’s back, growling out in a low voice, “Listen, if you’re here just to spit out pointless bullshit, have at it, but speak for your damn self. When I say somethin’, I mean it.”

“I don’t mean to imply anything of the sort. I know you gave it your all in coming up with a deduction you fully believed in. I did the same,” Shirahama continued, unfazed. “But when your deduction was disproven, was anything hurt except your pride?”

“...” Araya had no response to his question.

“Truth should be something a lot more meaningful than that. What we want isn’t the truth, it’s just a convenient explanation. One that fits all of the facts, that doesn’t violate our common sense, that we can just file away somewhere and be done with it. If this were any old case, it’d just end there. But it seems like we don’t have that luxury now.

“So long as the truth remains out of sight, we’ll just be piling up empty explanations like stones on the banks of hell.”

“...” “...” Both Kanshou and Araya remained silent, with no idea how to interpret or respond to the statement of their smiling leader.

“...So, what then?” Having finally mustered up the will to say something, Kanshou asked that simple question, uncertain what kind of answer he was even looking for.

However, just then, before Shirahama could form any sort of response, another sound rippled through the mysterious atmosphere inside the room. As everyone turned to the door, they saw Moribe come in, suitably early as always. Acknowledging the three young men, she gave a curt bow.

“Ahh, Moribe-senpai, good timing!” Shirahama piped up, walking over to her from his spot near the window. “Regarding that thing I asked you about before, did you find anything?”

“Right.” Expecting the question, Moribe quickly gave her report. “Apparently it’s true. Fukusen-kun and Kiyozumi-san had a picnic date that day.”

“Heheh, just like I thought.” Having apparently come to some kind of conclusion, Shirahama chuckled to himself, before turning around to look at Kanshou, the unshakeable grin still on his face. “To answer your question, Kanshou-kun—Then, nothing. We shall continue as we have been, piling up stones. That’s what the Crimes Circle is for, after all.”

2

“Welcome, welcome.” All the seats in the room having been filled, it was time to start the meeting. “My deepest gratitude for your time. I’ll do my utmost to make it worth your while.” Standing in front of his desk with his hands clasped behind his back, Shirahama addressed Moribe and the Circle members in an overly formal manner.

Then, he casually sat down on the sizable wooden desk behind him, pushing some papers out of the way before continuing, his chin in his palm and his lips stretched in an inscrutable smile.

“You know, ever since I was born, I’ve always felt like I could get my hands on anything I wanted. There’s never been anything entirely out of reach for me. Sure, if I’d wanted the moon, I probably wouldn’t be able to make it mine, but fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, I’ve never been greedy enough to try asking for it. But conversely, knowing that anything I could ever desire would easily become mine, I wound up not really desiring much of anything at all.” Shirahama leaned back, propping up his upper body with his arms and shifting his gaze to the ceiling. “Maybe that’s why I’ve always liked cold cases. The truth is forever out of reach. Whether I want it or not, there’s nothing to be done. You know, just like the poisoned chocolates case of 1929. Exciting, isn’t it?” Lowering his head to face the audience once more, Shirahama changed his tone. “Well, all that is to say, I’m here right now in order to lay my grubby hands on another case’s truth. Whether it’ll surrender itself to me that easily, or whether it’ll keep eluding me for an eternity to come, I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Either way, I doubt I’ve any need to worry about robbing my fellow Circle members of things to say going forward,” Shirahama said as he looked at Damari sitting to his right, who returned him a confident smile.

And then, bringing his palms together, the president wrapped up his speech. “With all that said, I believe there’s no need to keep you waiting any longer.” Widening his arms, as if to embrace the entire world within his grasp, he declared, “let the fourth turn begin!”

3

“If you had to put it in a word, what do you think is the core of this case?” Shirahama began with that rhetorical question. “Over the course of this week, our members have posed various answers to this question. Love, self-interest, disdain—all valid explanations in their own right. But if you ask me, the root cause is something completely different: justice.

“The reason why we’ve all gathered here today is to help bring justice to the victims of this incident. Nominally, at least. Of course, I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that our true desire is just to kill time in an entertaining fashion, but, well, let’s not downgrade the sanctity of this ritual.” Shirahama's smile remained unfaltering, even as he was assailed by an icy glare from Moribe. “But even so, given that fact, I think it’s worth examining this notion of justice just a little bit.

“Let’s suppose for a moment that Kaneya was targeted for the sake of justice. He’s certainly no saint, that much we’ve established, and him being targeted by someone with a personal vendetta is a very real possibility, but what about an unrelated third party seeking to punish him in the name of justice? Sounds a lot less likely, right? He may be a bad guy, but well, in the grand scheme of things, he’s a forgettable, commonplace kind of bad guy. I can think of plenty others worse than him just from this academy alone. If he’s done some kind of awful crime that none of us know about then it’s a different story, but I feel like one of us would have found out about that over the course of the investigation had it been the case. So ultimately, it’s hard to see some vigilante targeting him of all people.” Shirahama, perhaps treating his deduction the same way he would a ceremonial speech, monologued like a storyteller, throwing out questions without any room for answers.

“At least,” he added, raising a finger and pointing it upwards, “That’s the sensible, rational, commonsensical take. But too much common sense can be a liability. Sometimes it’s not enough to clear the path to the truth—Sometimes all it does is further obscure it.”

“If you wanna take it that way, we also had plenty of theories completely lackin’ in common sense. Sure didn’t bring us closer to anythin’ now, did they?” Araya interjected pointedly.

“Certainly, that’s true. Therefore, though it’s a tall task, I’ll try to skirt the fine line between the extremes. I can only hope that will be enough to finally lead us to our goal.” Though his words were humble, his smile was confident.

Having sufficiently set the scene, Shirahama made eye contact in turn with everyone in the room before continuing his explanation. “So let’s assume that Kaneya was targeted in order to satisfy someone’s sense of justice. Why him, then? By what moral code was he judged?

“Well, to answer that question, we should establish just what it is that’s so different between Kaneya and any other fleabag in this academy. Well, what do you all think?”

“I dunno, instead of having a superiority complex over his daddy’s money, he has one over his ability to throw a ball?” Araya suggested.

“Talent over wealth, that’s one thing.”

“He doesn’t hide behind superficial politeness like an heir would?” Sekimonji asked.

“Indeed, that’s part of it.”

“In other words, you just mean that he doesn’t have any status, right?” Damari reasoned.

“Precisely!” Shirahama pointed at her, looking pleased. “Kaneya got into Tokiwa Academy through a scholarship offer because of his outstanding performance in sports, as part of the recent program to accept gifted students that would normally never be able to afford the tuition fees. And among those elite few, Kaneya was so proficient that he managed to get into the Nijisou Dormitory, a feat that I’m sure Sekimonji-kun can attest to as being an extraordinary one. In other words, Kaneya is something this academy has never seen before. Not here, where only the sons and daughters of influential families used to be allowed.

“So then, how do you figure these privileged youths will react to a commoner barging into their most sacred space and acting even more arrogantly than they do?”

“You sure talk like you’re not one of them, huh?” Araya pointed out.

“I pride myself on being down to earth.” Shirahama said with a wink.

“So in other words, you’re suggesting that Kaneya was targeted because he wasn’t a part of the high class that makes up most of Tokiwa Academy?”

“Indeed. I have to imagine that those who reside at the Nijisou Dormitory view it as the greatest status symbol. In other words, even among these high class ladies and gentlemen, they would be the most extreme. And when those with extreme mindsets set about to enact justice, you end up with situations like these.”

“Hurting someone for the sake of your own self-satisfaction can’t be called justice.” Moribe let out that proclamation in a controlled, yet nonetheless resolute tone.

“I’ve no doubt you sincerely believe that, and I don’t intend to contradict you. But even if you believe that, I have a hard time imagining that most of the Disciplinary Committee, itself made of the very same rich kids we’re talking about, will all concur.”

“...” Moribe looked down, Shirahama’s merciless comment having clearly pained her. After a few moments, though, she raised her head, and shot back, “Be that as it may, I vow that I will do everything in my power to bring the culprit to justice. Who they are doesn’t matter to me.”

Shirahama smiled gently. “I didn’t expect anything else from you. Best of luck to you, though I really don’t envy your position.”

“Tell me, then.” Moribe ignored the president’s flippant attitude. “Who do you say is the culprit? You must have an answer to that question, right?”

“Of course!” Having just been asked the question of the night, the question he’s been waiting for, Shirahama’s grin widened. Spreading his arms dramatically, he delivered unto his audience the answer. “None other than the most pure-hearted and just person in this academy. Who else would take it upon themselves to eliminate the perceived unworthy from their midst? I speak, of course, of the school idol and our paragon of virtue herself, Kiyozumi Juna.”

Everyone’s surprise was evident. They’d all clearly been blindsided by this answer.

“Uh, what the hell are you on about? Isn’t she supposed to be the ultimate goodie two-shoes?” Araya asked, bewildered.

“Sure. From the perspective of the aristocratic denizens of this academy, she is. And she’s only lived up to her name by enacting their definition of righteousness. I imagine that if the story broke out, quite a few people would call her a hero.”

“Kiyozumi-san has an alibi during the gap between shifts. We questioned both her and Fukusen-kun separately, and their accounts matched up,” Moribe countered.

“Sure, after allowing them to get their stories straight, I assume. Not like you could force them to do otherwise.”

“Are you suggesting that Fukusen-kun was an accomplice?”

“Not initially, no. But if she asked him to help corroborate her alibi afterwards, I highly doubt he’d refuse. They are the Academy’s famous star couple, after all.”

“If Kiyozumi is so dedicated to getting rid of outsiders, then why hasn’t she shown any such discriminatory behavior before? Why only target Kaneya? Sure, he might be the worst, but I can’t imagine she would limit herself to him.” Sekimonji argued.

“Oh, except she has shown it. I imagine Kaneya was the only one bad enough to warrant a personal punishment, but Kiyozumi Juna has spared no effort in trying to get rid of all so-called ‘commoners’ from Tokiwa Academy.

“—After all, that’s exactly what she was trying to do on the very day her poisoned chocolates were supposed to punish Kaneya.”

“What?”

“You remember that, on that day, Kiyozumi was supposed to give an important speech at an event that she wound up missing, right? Well, I don’t blame you for not knowing any more than that. This is only something I managed to find out through my connections, after all.

“But, you see, the speech she was supposed to give there was addressed to the board of directors of Tokiwa Academy, at an event personally organized by her family to discuss their upcoming ‘donations’ to the school. And the subject of her speech was about how the scholarships granted by the school should be put to an end immediately. Surely for some reason like ‘damaging the sanctity of the school environment’.”

“Eh!?” Gekihara couldn’t help but exclaim.

“I know, right? Quite the radical, that little lady. She didn’t just want the scholarship programs to be closed for the following generations, she also wanted to revoke the privileges of those currently benefiting from them. Of course, considering the ridiculous tuition fees here, that’d surely lead to most such students being forced to transfer.”

All those present stirred at this damning revelation. It seemed they were beginning to accept the president’s theory.

“But, but! If Kiyozumi-san set all this up, how come she ended up eating her own poisoned chocolates? Shouldn’t she have at least avoided them or noticed that they were the same?” Gekihara asked, her head having clearly been sent spinning by the unforeseen revelation.

“Hmm? Why, Gekihara-kun, I figured that, out of anyone, you’d be able to appreciate a bit of irony as juicy as this. Fact of the matter is, for someone like Kiyozumi, sabotaging Kaneya wasn’t anything of note, no more significant than swatting a fly. She wouldn’t give it a second thought. She might have put in the minimum amount of preparation, but it wasn’t out of any sense of vigilance, but rather just to keep up appearances. After she left that package on the front desk of the dormitory, I doubt Kaneya even crossed her mind again. So when it came to her beloved boyfriend hand-feeding her chocolates during their picnic date, of course she’d accept. Why should she have anything to worry about, when the world is on her side?

“At least, that’s how I imagine her thinking went. Well, either way, I don’t know about justice, but I guess we can call that a bit of well-deserved karma, huh?”

4

For a time, the room sat still, allowing Shirahama’s words to settle, pushed down by the dense silence and seeping into the hardwood floor below. His eyes closed, the president appeared to soak in the contemplative atmosphere. After a few moments though, he suddenly jerked back into motion, as if remembering something.

“Ahh, yes, that’s right. I’ve brought an offering for you all. Phew, I almost forgot.” Saying that, he turned to his desk and brought something out from within. As he gathered everyone’s silent gaze, he put the rectangular object on the table. Predictably, it was a box of chocolates.

“I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Please, help yourselves. Don’t worry, these ones aren’t poisoned,” he added with a wink. The box was an ornate one, sporting shiny golden accents throughout its cream-colored base, atop which the name of a luxury brand was inscribed. Inside was an assortment of different types of chocolate, various rich, opulent shades arranged neatly, enough to satisfy anyone’s tastes.

Shirahama presented the box to everyone, urging them to partake. With the exception of Kanshou, who politely refused, everyone took a piece for themselves, eating it in silence. The president’s generous gift did nothing to dispel the strange mood that had settled upon the room.

From amid the withdrawn participants, a single voice cut through the morose tension, questioning the day’s orator with a tinge of pity in its tone.

“Is that really what you’re going with, president Shirahama?” The voice belonged to the bewitching bespectacled lady of the Crimes Circle, Damari Arisa.

“Oh? Do you have some problem with my theory, Damari-kun?” Shirahama’s thin smile never wavered; his gaze was aimed at her, and yet it seemed like his eyes registered nothing, absorbing all light like the starless night sky.

“No, not at all. Only, it just seems to me like you’re deliberately trying to sap everyone’s hopes of this case ever being solved.”

Looking around the room, everyone seemed lacking in vitality, not least of all Moribe, whose typically strong-willed expression darkened in resignation—the sentiment was clear. Not one of them truly believed in the theory that had just been proposed, but more than that, they had now begun doubting whether any truth would be reached at all. That a piece of reasoning as circuitous as this one had been seriously brought to consideration, and by their president, no less, served as the clearest sign of all that their experiment was going nowhere.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I find this idea plenty believable! Much stranger things have happened in the field of criminology, as I’m sure you know.”

“Very well.” Damari closed her eyes for a moment, before directing a composed smile at Shirahama. “Then allow me to refute this theory of yours. I am next in line to speak, after all.”

“Go right ahead. The floor is yours.”

“Shirahama-kun, you fail to understand people in any meaningful capacity. I won’t insult you by claiming it’s due to your status—after all, you fail to understand even those who enjoy the same privileges as you.” The young man in question leaned back in his chair and whistled at this blunt and harsh appraisal. “You tried to justify your hypothesis through some form of psychological analysis, but I’m afraid it doesn’t hold any water. Not for Kiyozumi Juna, and not for any other so-called ‘elite’.

“As long as they have a means of reaching their desired end, someone of Kiyozumi’s standing would never get their hands dirty directly. Not while being drunk on their own sense of justice. That’s because to them, the act of following their established laws, regulations and forms of etiquette is itself what gives them the right to consider themselves above others. Kiyozumi had her method of eliminating those she saw as beneath her, a method that went through all the proper channels—so long as that is true, she would never lower herself by employing the barbaric ways of her lessers.

“That is why Kiyozumi Juna cannot be the culprit in this incident. Though of course, you wouldn’t have thought of it like that. After all, you can’t quite understand why anyone would commit a crime in the first place, can you?”

The pinpoint accuracy of Damari’s comments, the way the intense irises behind her spectacles could seemingly see right through you—these boons of hers were enough to make a grown man feel like a helpless child, but Shirahama merely let out a healthy laugh in response. “How unlucky, to be forced to speak right before you. I just can’t win against you.” He spoke, seeming genuinely delighted at her counterargument. “My little Circle is hardly deserving of a wit like yours, Damari-kun.”

“No need for flattery, president.”

“No, no, I’m being genuine here.” Shirahama’s eyes glided over the room’s scenery—the occupied couches, the ample bookshelves, the desk covered in random papers—before finally settling back on Damari. “So then, do you intend to end all this yourself tomorrow?”

“It’s never my intention, nor my right, to end anything. I’ll just take a little guess at what might lie in someone’s mind. If something is to end after that, it’ll be on them.”

“Wonderful. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. In that case, I eagerly await tomorrow’s gathering. And with that, I believe tonight’s meeting should be coming to an end. Anyone have anything more to add?”

Shirahama’s question went unanswered. Gekihara looked back and forth between the president and Damari. Kanshou shivered lightly. The spectators to the earlier exchange could not claim in confidence that they fully understood it, yet nonetheless they were rooted to their seats, nervous, like they’d been onlookers to a war negotiation.

5

And so one deduction came to an end, inviting another to take its place. The truth was yet out of sight, no closer to materializing.

No sooner had another deduction been put together than it was immediately destroyed. And so the deductions came, one after another, all clawing at the empty air, failing to grab hold of anything. Again and again and again and again, weightless deductions would come and go, galloping forth like the horses of a carousel, destined to return to the very same place. This sleepless, farcical parade was not yet over.

The Poisoned Chocolates Case was not yet over.