My mouth formed a perfect O of its own accord, and as if in response, youthful laughter echoed from somewhere in the distance. Beyond the windows of this impersonal, ordinary hallway stretched the peaceful world of students I was finally getting used to. The gap between this tranquil scene created by the smoothie-sipping, book-carrying species and the words I'd just heard made me dizzy.

Mouth still agape, I somehow squeezed a voice from the pit of my stomach.

"—What did you say?!"

At my outburst, Qasim and Chloe, walking ahead, turned back, wondering what had happened. I shook my head with a smile, saying "It's nothing," and returned my gaze to Viktor beside me.

"Do I really strike you as someone who deals in life and death? For the record, I’m just a modest interior designer—not some big shot from a brutal world!"

Viktor shrugged at me as I whisper-shouted.

"Well. Anyway, I'm not used to this sort of thing, so I apologize if I'm off the mark."

With that preface, Viktor narrowed his eyes with infuriating composure.

"You're looking for someone who mistakenly believed you were Alan's boyfriend, aren't you? Why? Something happened to you. Probably something unpleasant, and you think it's connected to Alan—"

"Wait wait wait, that's confusing."

Looking slightly offended, Viktor closed his mouth—then rephrased.

"Something bad happened to you, and you think the culprit is connected to Alan."

At Viktor's observation, the anonymous, murderous letter and his question finally connected in my head. I was speechless for only an instant before letting out a sigh of admiration.

"'Kill' is an exaggeration, but... you're surprisingly sharp."

"I just tried to think it through despite being unfamiliar with this sort of thing. —Besides, this kind of thing is Chloe's specialty. She'll figure it out soon too. Your interrogation is hopeless. You're giving us far more information than you're getting from us."

"Yeah, yeah, sorry."

Strangely unable to get angry, I just twisted my mouth deliberately.

Silence fell between us again almost immediately. In another dozen steps or so, we'd reach the elevator. Then we'd temporarily part ways with the two physics students.

"Um," Viktor, who had been watching my demeanor, spoke up with a puzzled voice. "Why aren't you telling me anything?"

"Tell you what?"

"About that unpleasant incident that happened to you."

At his unexpected words—how many times had this happened today?—I was thrown off balance again.

"That's surprising. You want to hear about it?"

"Not particularly. Honestly, I'm not that interested." Viktor answered without missing a beat. "But isn't this the part where you're supposed to be so moved by my astute observation that you start blabbing about what happened to you?"

"...I think you've been reading too many mystery novels."

"Not really, but if I had to pick a favorite, it would be Poirot."

"Oh really..."

"So. Are you going to spill what happened, or not?"

At his suggestion, I thought for a moment. It wasn't something I needed to keep quiet about, but I hesitated to casually talk about an incident that had been quite shocking to me. —More than anything, something about Viktor's words kept nagging at me.

While I was mulling this over, the four of us finished our short journey and arrived at the elevator. They say time heals most worries, and how true that is.

"Unfortunately, Viktor. Looks like we're out of time. We'll continue this conversation another day."

Chloe, eyes wide, turned to look at me with my deliberately disappointed lowered brows.

"I'm surprised. You're actually enjoying your time with Vik. ...That's quite an unusual situation. Should we take the stairs instead?"

"Is that alright? I'd be very happy."

At Qasim's cheerful laugh, Chloe nodded in high spirits too.

"No problem. I'll even take you to the café where you're meeting Ethan."

"I appreciate it, Chloe."

And the two of them returned to their chatting before I could argue that "if there's an elevator right there, we should use it."

Viktor raised an eyebrow pointedly at me.

Unable to bear his gaze, I reluctantly opened my mouth.

"Well, you see, I received a letter."

"Hmm, a letter. You do have your email address and phone number posted online."

"Oh, no no." Noticing Viktor's misunderstanding, I hurriedly corrected him. "The letter is literally a letter. Delivered to my mailbox on stationery."

"What?!"

Viktor's voice rose in astonishment. In my experience, this was the first time he'd raised his voice like this. It seemed unusual to Chloe too, as she glanced back with a puzzled look. Qasim, who turned back with her, looked at me for some reason and smiled gently.

Not understanding why, I smiled back vaguely, while Viktor muttered.

"Is the sender a caveman...?"

"You know..."

"What on earth did they go through all that effort to tell you?"

"There wasn't really any content to speak of." Remembering the list of words, I let out a gloomy sigh. "But it definitely came across that they find me unbearably hateful."

"When did it arrive?"

"I found it the morning after you all came. The sender is unknown, of course."

"If my memory serves, letters that go through the mail have a date stamped on them?"

"It was hand-delivered, so there was no postmark."

"The address?"

"My name was written on it, but..."

"Was the spelling of your name correct?"

At his question, I was caught off guard and fell silent. I pictured the front of that pale blue envelope in my mind. Come to think of it, LUKE POTTER had been scrawled in messy handwriting.

Grimacing slightly at the unpleasant memory, I continued.

"The handwriting was terrible, but it correctly spelled 'Luke Potter.' Though, letters to me usually say 'Lucas,' so when I saw 'Luke,' I had a bad feeling."

Having heard my words, Viktor let his green gaze wander as if thinking. There was a faint furrow between his brows.

"Didn't the receptionist at your apartment see who delivered it?"

"Oh, the mailbox can be accessed from outside the building. That's why I get junk flyers stuffed in there too."

Viktor nodded with apparent interest.

"I see. Is it me?"

"What is?"

"The prime suspect. For the letter."

"Huh?"

I stared at him.

"The only problem is that's not the truth."

"...That deduction was completely unexpected."

"Well, given the timing and that I didn't know your real name, I think I'm worth keeping on the list."

Even I wouldn't go to that much trouble, I thought to myself, and continued.

"I hate to say it, but all four of you meet both those conditions."

"The other three should have seen your name when they looked up your address."

"Oh really?"

If it were me, a nickname I'd heard before would stick better than a real name I'd only glimpsed once.

"Still, a letter full of murderous intent... That makes it seem like your belief that Alan's death wasn't suicide isn't just wild imagination after all."

At Viktor's words, I nearly missed a step on the stairs. Tired of being surprised—that was the only reason—I pressed my dizzy head and somehow continued the conversation.

"...Did I tell you I thought his death might not have been suicide?"

"No. But Chloe said you didn't seem to have even considered the possibility of suicide, so I figured that was the case."

"Seriously..."

"Hearing that, I thought by standard theory you'd be the culprit. But Chloe said that wasn't likely, so I suppose not."

"Good grief... She really does have sharp judgment about people."

"That skill is a mixed blessing. She cares too much about what others think."

I considered his words for a moment. Then I signaled to his sullen eyes and slowed my walking pace.

"What?"

"No, it's just. Does that have anything to do with her clothes and hairstyle?"

Viktor raised an eyebrow at my words and fell into step beside me, putting distance between us and the two ahead.

"More or less. She says it's so people won't look down on her based on appearance. And to ward off men."

"The not-being-looked-down-on effect aside, the man-repelling is probably backfiring."

"Could you tell her that yourself?"

"Ah, so it is backfiring."

Muttering in hushed voices, I recalled the impact of first meeting Chloe. All that black, an aura that seemed to reject people—then transformed completely with her smile. My romantic interests are exclusively men, but in that moment, I'd felt my heart flutter with delight.

"Well, she seems to be starting to realize it might have been a mistake."

"Are there that many? People hitting on her?"

"From my perspective, it's nothing major. People who were initially smitten with Chloe usually start treating her as a promising future scholar once they see her research."

"That's impressive."

"It's just certain university people, though. Chloe genuinely believes that if she suppresses her femininity, people will properly listen to her research. Getting distracted by those nobodies and unable to focus on research is an insult to her own talent."

"...I see."

I murmured this and roughly mussed the hair behind my ear.

"Well, I've had experiences where my work wasn't properly evaluated for terrible reasons, so I can sort of imagine how she feels." At my words, Viktor narrowed his eyes. His gaze looked ready to bite back at my words. "But if you're worried about Chloe as a friend, why don't you tell her what you just said?"

"She won't listen to me. She's impossibly stubborn." Viktor pouted and turned away, but then went on petulantly. "...I've told her many times before. But Chloe always listens to those nobodies over me."

"She'd listen now."

"Why?"

About to continue, I fell silent for an instant, feeling my throat constrict. After a moment's hesitation, I opened my mouth again.

"—Alan died suddenly too, didn't he?"

The green gaze piercing me wavered for the first time. A searing grief, one step away from transforming into hatred, flickered in the depths of his eyes.

"This is something my grandma used to say often. Our lives are far too short to spend being captive to meaningless things."

A sudden wave of discomfort made me lower my eyes. In my head, words Qasim had said to me were ringing loudly.

"When you give someone advice, the person who needs that advice most is usually yourself."

—Ah, damn it all. From now on, every time I offered anyone advice, those words would punch me right back in the face.

Lost in conversation, we'd descended the stairs without realizing it, exited the building, and were walking down a path bathed in bright sunlight. Had Alan read books about robotics on the vivid green lawn too? His friends must have been clustered around him. Now I could almost see it.

Viktor, apparently having regained his usual demeanor, spoke to me as I was lost in thought.

"Really, being grateful for someone's advice goes against my principles."

He sighed, looking utterly fed up despite showing no gratitude whatsoever.

"I suppose I'll cooperate with you a little."

"...Um, I'll gratefully accept just the sentiment."

Ignoring my attempt to escape, Viktor continued imperiously.

"If there's anyone nearby who seems to find your existence irksome, I'll discreetly look into it."

His proposal caught me off guard. I already felt a vague sense of guilt about digging into all this over nothing more than a single letter.

"Thanks, but really, just the thought is enough. We don't even know for certain that the culprit is close to Alan."

I was about to say it might just be someone with a grudge from work—when Viktor interrupted with a derisive "Ha?"

His restraint around me was definitely wearing thin. I told myself this was a good sign.

"Close to Alan? What are you talking about?" Viktor shook his head as if utterly exasperated. "The person who sent you that harassment is someone who knew Alan but wasn't close to him—at least not on the surface. That's an obvious fact."