1

Sekimonji Shisai was, beyond all else, a man of logic. It was his way of life to ultimately always choose the most rational option in any given scenario, unencumbered by impulse or emotion.

Having become a successful author at a young age, it was undeniable that he was possessed of a powerful intellect. Yet beyond all else, it was his maturity, his ability to always make the correct decision, unswayed by sentiment, that invited his great success. It was this exceptional disposition that allowed him to lift his family out of poverty using the revenue from his novels, as well as to score within the fifth percentile on his entrance exams to Tokiwa Academy, granting both himself and his sibling the privilege of attending the prestigious school with heavily reduced tuition fees.

Given Sekimonji’s nature, it was perhaps inevitable that he would become involved in the world of mystery novels. The genre, based on logic, deduction and the clever deception of the reader, was the perfect playground within which Sekimonji could apply his talents. His novels, featuring trendy, appealing characters embroiled in gripping plots with exhilarating twists, quickly rose to the ranks of best-sellers, some even being adapted into television dramas. Needless to say, Sekimonji’s career was a great success.

It was then perhaps the height of irony that the mystery novels which had earned him wealth and glory were in fact what prevented him from achieving his true wish. Indeed, Sekimonji’s passions lied not with mystery novels but with a much less respected genre: light novels. He loved these nerdy, audience-gratifying low-brow entertainment novels more than any form of literature in the world! Yet despite this adoration, it was his own insurmountable logic that prevented him from ever pursuing them.

He knew that, had he decided to write the kind of novels he truly loved, he wouldn’t be able to achieve any success, that he would remain an obscure author read only by a select few very particular fans. And so, he abandoned his heart’s desire, exchanging the sword-wielding hero for the detective and the vile demon lord for the culprit as he wrote safe, sterile novels which he was sure would capture the ignorant masses.

Thus, Sekimonji chose to live a life of logic. He did so because he knew that if he allowed himself at this stage to be moved by his emotions, he would no doubt be swallowed by his hatred of anything and everything: his worthless books, the snobbish school he attended and even the empty, useless man named Kunugi Eisuke.

Yes, he had thrown away his emotions—but perhaps even he could not deny that part of him was driven by frustration. Frustration at the Circle member who’d spoken before him, who’d so mindlessly strung together leaps of logic in order to compose that farcical, impetuous deduction. Even though he’d only joined the Circle in order to research crimes and hone his craft, even though it was a logical decision that had nothing to do with enjoyment, there she was spouting nonsense like she was on top of the world, like she couldn’t be happier. He couldn’t help but resent that careless, free-spirited nature.

And so Sekimonji would retaliate—he would strike back with his most powerful weapon, the flawless, unsurpassable logic that had gotten him this far.

2

“—Even so, don’t you think it’s a bit too far, accusing one of our members like that?”

“Ahh, it’s fine~! It was just a bit of showmanship. He’s a good sport, he wouldn’t let it get to him.”

The cheerful conversation between the two girls expunged the silence from the calm room used as the headquarters of the Crimes Circle. It was the Circle’s female duo, Gekihara Esuzu and Damari Arisa, arriving earlier than usual in anticipation of the day’s deduction speech.

“Besides, I know you got this in the bag, Ari-san. There’s no point in me trying to pin down the truth by myself. So I thought I may as well have some fun with it!”

“Hey now, I never told you to do something like that. This exercise is worth more when we’re all trying our best. You should learn from Araya-kun’s example.”

Gekihara chuckled at Damari’s sardonic bit of advice. “It’s because he’s always so serious that he always ends up the butt of the joke. Really, he already looks like a deadbeat, so he should try taking it easy for once.”

“Fufu, you shouldn’t let his appearance fool you. Up until the end of middle school he was a short kid with a bowl cut, you know? I always thought that fit him more.”

“Ha! You’re kidding!” Gekihara burst into laughter at the mental image. “Not even my best costume designer can manage a transformation that drastic.”

Unlike Gekihara or Sekimonji, who’d attended public middle schools and only joined Tokiwa Academy’s high school department, both Damari and Araya had steadily climbed through Tokiwa’s elementary and middle school departments, and they’d been placed in the same class more than once. As a result, Damari knew Araya well, and consistently pushing his buttons had been a personal project of hers for a long time now.

“Anyhow, putting me in charge of detective work was a bad idea from the start,” added Gekihara. “You shouldn’t put a creative in charge of figuring out the truth, okay? We’re allergic to reality.”

“I don’t think Sekimonji-sensei would like hearing that. Especially since it’s his turn today…” Damari pointed out with a strained smile as Gekihara proudly nodded to her own words. “But even then, while I appreciate your vote of confidence, I don’t think you should call it my victory just yet, Esuzu-chan. There are plenty of great minds in our humble little Circle. Like the president, or Sekimonji-sensei—or like the first year boy hiding back there.”

“Eh?”

Damari pointed towards the farthest bookshelf on the left side of the room. A few moments later, a boy sheepishly walked out from the other side, a nervous smile on his face.

“J-just so you know, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop or anything. I just couldn’t find the right time to say hello…” Kanshou Kisuke trailed off awkwardly, looking away from the two girls.

“Fufu, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh yeaaah! Kanshou-kun, yours is the last turn, right? That means you’re going right after Ari-san,” Gekihara said.

“Yes, well… Don’t get your hopes up too much, please. I'm all out of good ideas. I don't even know where to begin coming up with another theory,” Kanshou said, distraught.

“Heh heh heh, don't feel too bad about it. It's way too spartan, making the rookie follow up after the best mind in our Circle. The president really doesn't know moderation, does he?”

“Still, I don't think you have any reason to worry. When the time comes, I'm sure you'll find your words.” Ignoring Gekihara's cocky grin, Damari let out some uncharacteristically comforting words.

“T-thank you very much.” Unsure how to respond, Kanshou stuttered some overly-formal words of gratitude, his face red.

“Well, either way, before we need to worry about that, we have Sekimonji-sensei's deduction to listen to,” Gekihara said, changing the subject. “I doubt a buzzkill like him can provide anything fun though~.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that, now.” Damari chuckled, her ever-mysterious smile widening slightly. “You're the one who said it, Esuzu-chan—Creatives are allergic to reality, after all.”

3

“I won’t waste anyone’s time with pointless preamble. I’m starting. Everyone is fine with that, I imagine?”

As soon as everyone gathered in the Crimes Circle room at the appointed time, Sekimonji immediately got down to business.

“Of course,” said Moribe, her expression having softened slightly, perhaps relieved to be dealing with someone more rational this time.

“No issues here,” said Shirahama, grinning. “It seems you’re confident about this. That’s certainly good to see, Sekimonji-kun.”

“Confident or not, I just see no purpose in rambling formalities,” Sekimonji replied. “That said, I do at least believe my words here will be of some use to the investigation. More so than the previous two theories, at least.”

“Tch.” Araya clicked his tongue at the disdainful remark, while Gekihara just continued sipping on her tea with a gentle expression.

“All of the deductions shared thus far have been nothing more than guesses, just different ways to conveniently link the pieces of the puzzle,” Sekimonji began. “With a case like this, you could find a million different possible explanations, each seemingly valid at first glance. I don’t find it prudent to keep going on in this fashion.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Damari asked.

“Rather than starting from the conclusion, I’ve elected to closely analyze all of the facts once again in order to narrow down our list of suspects as much as possible. Of course, doing this has highlighted just how little we really know about this case.”

Moribe looked down for a brief moment, perhaps feeling personally apologetic at the Disciplinary Committee’s lackluster investigative results. Paying her no mind, Sekimonji continued.

“There are only three concrete, physical clues we can rely on: the window between shifts for the front desk at the Nijisou Dormitory, the wrapping paper from the Arts & Crafts Club, and the laxatives put inside the chocolates. That’s it. I can’t say I blame anyone for jumping to conclusions through circumstantial evidence given these conditions.

“First off, regarding the window between shifts, there are a few useful deductions we can draw from this. The window was between 4:45 and 5:00. At this time, most students would be taking part in club activities, meaning that most would have alibis. In other words, it’s not exactly advantageous for the culprit. But to look at it another way, given that most students would be off doing club activities at this time, very few of them would have had the chance to even learn of this very convenient window of time.

“Next up is the wrapping paper. Truth be told, I think the value of this thing as a clue has been somewhat overstated. I understand the impulse to latch onto every bit of material evidence we have as the key to some major connection, but I think it might do more harm than good to obsess over it.

“The reality is that the wrapping paper, alongside plenty of other materials created by the Arts & Crafts Club, are freely available for all students to use. For instance, just the other day I was visiting my brother and I happened to notice that he had some of it lying around. In other words, it doesn’t really prove anything like the culprit having some relation to that club.”

“But wouldn’t the club president or whoever remember anyone that showed up and asked to take some of that paper?” Gekihara asked.

“No,” Moribe interjected, “The Arts & Crafts Club has a storage room where they put materials they no longer need. And anyone is free to enter that storage room and take whatever they want.”

“Precisely,” continued Sekimonji. “I think the wrapping paper could very well have been a red herring from the culprit. After all, why else utilize a material that could be used to identify you more easily? I can’t imagine our culprit being that careless.”

After Sekimonji’s decisive statement, the room was momentarily covered by a stiff silence, lifted only by a pointed question from Shirahama. “That’s all well and good, but Sekimonji-kun, if you say our most distinctive clue is functionally useless, what are we left with then?”

“When one man dies, another comes to take his place. Like cogs in a machine, this is the principle which keeps society moving steadily. And on this point, mysteries are no different. When one piece of the puzzle doesn’t fit, all we need to do is find another. There’s no such thing as a perfect crime; as long as it is the work of a human, a way to find the truth must exist.”

“Nice spiel, but d’ya got the evidence to back it up?” Araya asked dubiously.

“Naturally.” Sekimonji’s face was as stern as ever, but his eyes betrayed a dauntless intensity. “The fateful box of chocolates that started this whole affair—As you know, the chocolates within were laced with laxatives, but doesn’t it seem a bit careless to just leave it at that?”

“Hmm?” Moribe narrowed her eyes, raising one eyebrow.

“With a bit of help from the Science Club, I managed to narrow down the exact brand of laxatives used, from a wide selection of samples. The result was as I expected—and quite a telling one.”

Sekimonji paused for a moment to take a breath. He looked nonchalant as he pushed up his glasses, but it was undeniable that a part of him was pleased at the enraptured audience before him, faces like those of a mystery reader hoodwinked by an unforeseen trick.

“The laxative in question was liquid in form. It’s a rare brand, quite expensive and not commonly found in your average drugstore.

“—And it also happens that the medical cabinet at the Nijisou Dormitory has plenty of it in stock.”

“Oh!” Sekimonji’s listeners couldn’t help but lightly gasp at this revelation.

Aside from accommodation and room service fit for a five star hotel, the Nijisou Dormitory also boasted its own nurse’s office separate from that of the school’s. Though, calling it a nurse’s office might give the wrong impression, as in reality it was more like an entire clinic attached to the dormitory, where students could receive free consultations from a doctor who’d previously worked in the city’s largest hospital.

“Frankly, I’d had a vague suspicion this might be the case. Truth be told, I’ve used this laxative before, and it was potent enough to come with a warning from the nurse.” The stress of being a best-selling author is no joke for one’s bowel system, you see, Sekimonji tacked on, an addendum none of those present particularly wanted to hear. “So as you might surmise, it’s the perfect drug for giving someone a very bad day. Unfortunately for the culprit, for all their meticulous planning, they didn’t take into account that it could be traced.

“I think it’s beyond reasonable at this point to presume that our culprit is a resident of this very same dormitory. If only our previous esteemed speakers could have reached this same conclusion, we could have spared our ears from at least one pointless hypothesis.”

The writer’s hostile remark was met with a shameless grin and a wink, ineffectually bouncing off of Gekihara. Paying her no mind, Sekimonji continued.

“How about it? I won’t claim I’ve definitively proven anything, but I’d say we’ve narrowed our range of suspects by quite a fair amount. I believe that alone should be quite helpful to the investigation.”

“Indeed, that much is undeniable. Your hard work is much appreciated, Sekimonji-kun,” said the president. Opposite to him, Moribe lightly nodded along, deep in thought, surely contemplating her next course of action.

“Well, some people here seem to believe we’re running a circus, so I suppose I’ve failed to bring much entertainment value,” Sekimonji quipped, a faint but undeniable prideful smirk coloring his typically joyless face.

“Aw, don’t sell yourself so short, Sekimonji-sensei,” Gekihara piped up. “No need to apologize yet—after all, that’s not all, is it?”

“...” Sekimonji wordlessly glared at her.

“Gekihara-kun has a point. Your deduction so far has certainly been invaluable—but knowing you, I can’t imagine you don’t have a theory regarding the one behind this incident,” Shirahama agreed.

“Hmph.” Sekimonji furrowed his brows in consideration, before finally acquiescing. “Well, you’re right. I have some ideas. I didn’t plan on speaking about anything I wasn’t certain of, but I suppose it can’t hurt to take them into consideration.”

“Yes, anything you can think of, please share,” Moribe insisted.

“Very well.” Sekimonji took a second to compose himself, before bluntly delivering his next statement. “One of the theories I had was that the crime was committed by the staff member in charge of the front desk.”

“Hmm?” “Hoh.” “Ooh!” His declaration elicited a number of reactions.

“That someone would be able to pinpoint the exact window between shifts to take advantage of, as well as skillfully avoiding every security camera on the way, while not impossible, is quite unlikely. On the other hand, the only thing that the person at the reception desk would have to do is prepare the box and then hand it over to Kaneya. Of course, as someone working at the dormitory, they could also get their hands on the laxatives easily enough.”

“But why would they do such a thing?” Moribe asked.

“Who knows? You could imagine countless reasons. People who commit crimes aren’t thinking rationally in the first place. However, if I may offer up the most persuasive motive I can think of, then it’d have to do with Kaneya’s behavior. You should all understand by now how arrogant and rude he is to everyone around him. And of course, that doesn’t extend only to his peers. Even with good pay, I imagine it must be pretty hard for an adult to grin and bear being abused by a spoiled brat.”

“But wait, if the guy behind this wasn’t even a student, then how the hell’d he get his hands on that wrapping paper?” Araya asked.

“I believe their position presents a unique opportunity. After all, if they’re in charge of checking packages sent to the dormitory, then they might have encountered it there. Seeing a chance to misdirect us into thinking a student committed the crime, they quickly swapped the wrapping and kept it for themselves.”

“Hmm.” Shirahama seemed unconvinced.

“The idea of a non-student offender is certainly worth considering,” Moribe began, “but unfortunately, I don’t think the theory you presented is feasible. We made sure to look into the process they have for checking packages at the dormitory, and while it wasn’t enough to detect poisoned chocolates, it’s also not in the least careless. At least two people are in charge of thoroughly examining anything sent to the building at the same time. The culprit wouldn’t have had any opportunity to steal the wrapping paper.”

“And to begin with, how would an employee be able to recognize the significance of that paper anyway? Awful lotta coincidences you’d need to stack up to make that happen. Not exactly logical, eh?” Araya pointed out.

“Well, I agree that theory doesn’t carry much weight. I just thought it prudent to mention anyway,” Sekimonji said, unbothered, before pushing up his glasses and continuing, “Besides—there’s a much more likely solution to this case, as I see it.”

“Hah?”

“Of course, I’m talking about the culprit. You’ve noticed it too, right?”

Everyone in the room looked stumped, wondering exactly what answer Sekimonji was expecting. Finally, Moribe went forward and asked, “...Who are you talking about?”

“Really? The answer has been staring you in the face this whole time. I can’t believe you wouldn’t think of this.” Sekimonji’s tone was lighter than usual, though a clear sense of enmity could be heard from it. As for whom this antipathy was directed towards, it wasn’t quite clear.

Finally, sensing that no one would be uttering the answer he was looking for, Sekimonji took a deep breath, preparing to speak.

Then, his face twisted in disgust, like he’d just tasted something rotten. Finally, through gritted teeth, he let out his final indictment.

“I’m talking about myself, of course!”

4

“...” “...” “...” “...” “...” “...”

All anyone could do was stare in silence at this bewildering declaration. However, while Moribe was flabbergasted, the faces of the other Circle members contained a tinge of exasperation, as if embarrassed by a friend’s bad habit.

“What’s wrong? I’ve given you all the clues. I too live at the Nijisou Dormitory, and I’ve just told you that I had access to both the specific laxative used for the crime as well as that wrapping paper. If you think about it for a second, it’s obvious that I’m a prime suspect!” Sekimonji raised his voice, angrily reprimanding his listeners for their ignorance.

“Uhh, you say that, but…” Moribe tried piecing together something to placate the increasingly agitated man, but failed to come up with a fitting response.

“Not suspecting me just because I’m sitting here talking to you? Bah! Someone who can’t rationally consider all possibilities cannot be called anything except a failure of an investigator.”

“What about your motive?” Shirahama asked calmly, no longer fazed by his upperclassman’s erratic behavior.

“Motive, motive, always on about the damned motive,” Sekimonji grumbled out, “What’d I tell you earlier? Someone who would commit a crime like this couldn’t be acting rationally. Therefore, there’s nothing worth being called a motive.

“‘I did it because he was a waste of space who deserved it.’ There, does that satisfy you? Now on with it!” The writer yelled at Moribe.

“Um… What?” Far from a rigid enforcer of discipline, Moribe now looked no more dependable than a lost child as she tilted her head in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? I’m a criminal, didn’t you hear? Take me away!” Sekimonji thrust his balled hands forward, as if expecting her to pull a pair of handcuffs. “Expel me, incarcerate me, execute me! I’ll take whatever punishment a loathsome wrongdoer like me deserves, so just hurry it up!”

“...” Moribe now just looked in concern at the pitiful man breaking down in front of her.

“Khhhhhh! Why won’t you just…! Why won’t anyone just…!” Bursting into tears while gritting his teeth, Sekimonji slid to the floor, curling up into a ball and crying out curses. “Why is everyone so incompetent! A useless fraud like me just deserves to be hurt and degraded, so why won’t anyone do it! Damn it! Damn it all!”

By the end, Sekimonji’s furious rant just devolved into incoherent mumbling choked out in between the heavy sobbing. At some point, Kanshou stood up from the couch and crouched down beside Sekimonji, patting him on the back while muttering “There, there.” Meanwhile, the rest of the Circle members either watched the wailing Sekimonji amusedly or shot the still horribly confused Moribe a sympathetic smile.

“I guess you could call it impostor syndrome? His brain can’t reconcile the fact that he’s achieved such success, so sometimes his self-hatred overflows and he has a mental breakdown,” Damari explained casually, clearly finding Sekimonji’s affliction somewhat humorous. “I guess the root cause is having to write shallow novels just to gain sales. Still, you’d never expect it, given how arrogant he usually is, fufu.”

“Really though, they come at such random times. You never know when he’s gonna go crazy like that. It keeps you on your toes, for sure. He really has a flair for the dramatic in that sense,” Gekihara added.

“Huh…” Moribe gave a vague grunt of understanding, her brows furrowed. Inwardly, she couldn’t help but exclaim, Is there anyone normal in this godforsaken Circle, though she tried not to let the sentiment show.

Quickly getting the emotions out of his system, Sekimonji soon regained his composure, and just a few minutes after his outburst he was seemingly entirely back to normal, showing no sign of distress.

“I seem to have acted irrationally. My apologies.” And with that terse acknowledgement he settled everything, his face showing no trace of embarrassment or shame. If nothing else, his ability to shove a surge of emotions that powerful under the rug like it was nothing was certainly worthy of respect.

“Understatement of the century right there,” said Araya, cackling, though Sekimonji just ignored him.

“Well, I doubt there’s any real need to do this, but just for the sake of keeping form,” began Shirahama, “Sekimonji-kun couldn’t have been the culprit in this case. The reason being, he was right here with us during the timeframe when the box was sent. We can all vouch for your alibi.”

“Right,” the writer assented. “I formally retract my theory.”

Moribe couldn’t keep her eyelids from twitching as she watched the bizarrely solemn exchange.

“Right…” Heaving a deep sigh, Sekimonji once again spoke up “Though this wasn’t the original intention, I’ve brought something to compensate for my inadequate showing.” Leaving it at that, Sekimonji went for his bag and took something out from it—a box of chocolates.

“Ooooh!” Gekihara greedily eyed the treat. “I wasn’t planning to complain about a spectacle, but if you’re gonna be this generous, then I’d say you should have mental breakdowns more often!”

“That kinda comment shows why you're gettin’ fat, ya know?” Araya commented with a smirk.

“Hmph. And those kinds of uncouth comments are why girls hate you!” Gekihara pouted, uncommonly affected by his condescending remark.

Not minding the two, Sekimonji placed the box on the table and opened the lid. The box contained about twelve rectangular pieces of dark chocolate, neatly arranged in two rows. If she’d been shown the box just half an hour earlier, Moribe might have thought that it fit Sekimonji’s personality, but now she wasn’t quite so sure.

“...Oh well, I guess what matters is that we got some new information.” Muttering that to herself, Moribe decided to shrug everything off. She wouldn’t get anywhere if she let herself get caught up in all the Circle members’ eccentricities.

“Sure you don’t want another one, Kanshou-kun?”

“N-no, please go ahead and take it, Shirahama-senpai.”

Eyeing the box of chocolates cautiously, Moribe finally decided to just go with the flow and grabbed one of the remaining pieces, unceremoniously taking a bite out of it.

“...Too bitter for my taste.”

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.

Sekimonji Shisai wielded logic as his sword and reason as his shield in order to triumph against the world, but in the end, the irrationality of his own heart had destroyed him from within. Without being able to meet the world’s insanity head-on, the poor fool had no shot of ever solving this affair.

Thus, the chime of the clock tower’s bell signaled the end of the third turn. The Crimes Circle would keep on striving for an unreachable destination.

The Poisoned Chocolates Case was not yet over.