McDonald’s. McDonald’s. Convenience store food. Cup noodles. Domino’s Pizza. KFC. Instant ramen. Instant. McDonald’s. McDonald’s. Domino’s Pizza. Convenience store food.

If I told you that this was my diet for a week, would you be worried?

Fast food is not a disease unique to modern society, that’s the only fact that saves me.

Apparently, ancient Roman apartments didn’t have kitchens, so people bought ready-made meals, and in 13th-century Paris, there were already restaurants serving food and cakes, and in the Edo period, food stall culture flourished.

The benefits of homemade food? The connections that are born around a dinner table? Those are just straight up lies.

I browse the internet while munching on leftover McDonald’s fries, reaffirming that everyone other than me has talent, and then go to bed when I’m tired. I don’t really know why I kept living like a mole, but one thing is clear: it’s because of something everyone likes to call hope.

I was crushed by this “hope,” and lived in a world without it. I never left my room and I chose to settle in a place where hope was invisible.

“Hehehe.”

“Y-you… Why are you laughing?”

“You’re still a newbie, mister. Didn’t you know? If you force yourself to laugh, it’ll calm your mind.”

“I guess that’s how it is.”

“Why don’t you try laughing? Come on, laugh with me! Hehehe... What’s this? It’s delicious. Try eating this! It’s super tasty!”

So then why am I out and connecting with someone over a meal?

A quick search reveals a plethora of talents: Super High School Level Traditional Dancer, Super High School Level Groomer, Super High School Level Female Bassist, Super High School Level Bear Hunter, Super High School Level Candle Maker, Super High School Level Charcoal Burner, and more. It’s almost as if they want to declare that talent itself has no value.

In short, I was damned from the start.

I was a mole sleeping alone, far away from civilization. In the soil, there are carbohydrates and internet access, so I won’t die or anything, but it makes me feel dead even though I’m alive.

That day, as I munched on some leftover fries, I was searching for information about the talents that were shining at this very moment.

There are many people in this world who find meaning in the sales of video games and those who get excited when their favorite baseball team wins. They directly link other people’s lives to their own. They just skim off parts of other’s lives to validate their own. Otherwise, they wouldn’t care about what to do with their stacks of bills or even how to use a ball.

I guess what I'm doing is close to that kind of stupid behavior.

Being a mole, I can’t help but sniff out the powers and abilities that sprout up like bamboo shoots in early spring, and sigh with relief, thinking, “Talent is pretty ordinary, not unique.”

I know it's futile. Of course I want to get outside.

But talentless people like me can’t go outside, and what hurt me even more was the fact that while I was suffering like this, so many people with zero talent were living outside.

Even if the bath was filled with shit, as long as the person soaking in it is satisfied and thinks, “This bath is nice,” then that counts as “outside” for them. There are also so many people who mistakenly think that just because they've started a family or gotten promoted, they’ve earned the right to live outside.

I would never do that.

I refuse to fall into the trap of self-satisfaction. I won't become an “evangelist” who only talks about misfortune. I won't become a “mom or dad” who protects a shitty house, or a “CEO” who laughs and cackles.

So now the most troubling question is, “What do I do?”

I never thought it would turn out like this. Honestly, I can't believe it. I believed that even if I had nothing, I had talent.”

It’s not like I need to be able to run 100 meters in under three seconds, or be able to guess the brand of wine just by looking at its color, or levitate… but what about a talent for writing, for example?

I tried reading the novels written by Super High School Level Literary Girl and Super High School Level Light Novel Writer, but honestly they were so shitty that it moved me by just how shitty they were.

Damn it! What makes them so good and me so bad? Why are they outside and I’m a mole?!

Huh? I’ve been speaking for too long?

Maybe you’re right. A girl’s life advice is annoying, but an old man’s monologue is the worst.

I’ll close my eyes and go to sleep. I wish everyone’s dreams would die. I also wish everyone’s hopes would die. And those people who think their hopes and dreams will come true? Die some more.

Good night.

Of course I noticed something strange. Even someone fast asleep would notice the sound of a loud explosion.

At first, I thought that the despair disease had finally arrived in this remote countryside. But the presence I sensed from behind the curtains didn’t seem to be that. I saw a video on an underground file sharing site of a certain country where the majority of the population had contracted despair disease. The people seemed to be having lots of fun.

They piled despair on despair, multiplied negative on negative, and laughed out loud as if they had been filled with pure bliss. They were killing each other while laughing. Whether they were hitting someone else or being hit, stabbing someone else or being stabbed, they were all laughing happily at the attack. So in other words, everyone was a perpetrator and there were no victims.

But now, screams were coming from outside the apartment, and even I was woken up by the noise. There were only a few other things bothering me besides whether the door was locked or not. I had a headache, probably due to anxiety.

I went back to my room, washed my hands, and turned on the TV, but it didn't respond. The internet wouldn't work either.

Where’s the phone?

I felt kind of embarrassed since I didn’t have any friends or anything to call, so instead I tried calling the local weather forecast. It was out of service, of course.

The screams from outside were getting notably louder.

I checked the stock of instant noodles, walked around my room aimlessly like a tiger at the zoo, and then crawled back into bed.

There’s a psychological term called “normalcy bias.” When an accident or disaster occurs right in front of our eyes and our lives are put at risk, we are made to cling to our everyday lives, thinking, “Well, it’ll be okay. I won’t die.” It’s a system that removes ourselves from the story and helps us escape from the imminent death approaching. The scary thing is that even though I knew this, I still couldn’t get out of bed.

I stayed like that for about two hours. After that, there was no sound at all. Complete silence, you couldn’t even hear the wind. Silence. And it was beautiful. The silence was eerie, widespread, and beautiful. It was the first time in my life I had experienced such silence.

I got out of bed.

My body felt sluggish, the calluses on my feet were hard, and my stomach felt about 60% full just like it always does. But despite that, I felt different. I felt refreshed for some reason. It took me nearly a minute to realize the reason for this.

Ah, that’s it. It’s the world that’s different, not me.

The common sense of yesterday is gone, I can do whatever I want.

Hold it. I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to get carried away. Getting excited about the end of the world is what cowards do. Just like cults that are eagerly awaiting the end of the world. I’m a mole and maybe even a coward, but I’m not so low that I’d cling to a brand new god.

So what do I do? Nothing. I’ll just stay the same and feel the way I always do. Just blame talent, start in the usual mood, start from a negative point.

I just had to check something.

For the first time in ages, I’m setting out for a reason other than to get food.

For some reason, I imagined the town would be destroyed. I expected to see mountains of rubble, corpses scattered around, and the smell of death permeating the air but… my expectations were completely wrong.

There was no change in the convenience store, the residential area I could see from my apartment window, the quaint telephone poles, or even the mountains that surrounded the town. The dimly lit town had the same scenery as always.

There was no change in the convenience store, the residential area I could see from my apartment window, the quaint telephone poles, or even the mountains that surrounded the town. The dimly lit town had the same scenery as always.

Except for one thing: it was completely deserted.

“Is anyone here?” I wanted to call out, but I would be embarrassed if there really was someone there, and I would be worried if there really was no one there, so I just walked around in silence.

The lights still were on at the convenience store, and there were signs that McDonald’s had been open for business until just a moment ago. There were no unusual changes to the houses, and there were cars on the road with their engines still running.

The only thing missing is the people.

When I visited a certain Eskimo village, there was not a soul to be seen. Half-eaten meals and seal pelts for jackets were left behind in the huts. But I still have no clue where the villagers went or why they vanished.

It reminded me of those ghost towns from those horror stories I read as a kid. I thought I’d see a stereotypical apocalyptic story of people being killed and towns being destroyed, but what actually happened was surreal.

I never liked surreal things, and I don’t have the sense to understand them, so the sudden stress just made my stomach hurt. I feel like I’m going to throw up my hamburger and fries.

There’s nobody around, but the town is the same as always, and that unchanging feeling makes it even more creepy.

Before I knew it, I was running. I ran around and around, and when I got tired, I found myself on a big street.

“Come on!” My body, lacking exercise, screamed in pain, and my legs cramped. I couldn’t help but collapse on the spot. No matter how many times I rubbed my legs, they wouldn’t return to normal. I regretted not stretching before running… but I’ve already proven that stretching is useless. I’m just a loser.

It was pathetic. It was pathetic to think that while the world was in the midst of an unprecedented and abnormal situation, I was the man crying about leg cramps.

“Hey!”

Someone hit me, slamming something like a giant bag in my face. I rolled on the ground. My whole face was numb, I couldn’t feel a thing, and my vision was blurry. I touched the tip of my nose and it was stained with blood.

Damn it. This is it. So this is my role in the story. Even if the world changes, I won’t. It’s all because I have no talent, because I’m just a minor character.

Feeling pain, anger, and other emotions that I couldn’t quite grasp, I looked up, and something appeared in my shaky vision. Someone dragging what looked like a huge bag slowly approached.

Clatter, clatter, clatter! It made the sound of something heavy being dragged as it came close by.

In an almost blind rage, I kicked with my free leg.

“Fgush!”

With a strange shriek, the person was sent flying. Huh? What a surprise, the kick hit them.

And they were a beautiful girl.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“S-sorry.”

“Apologizing like a newbie, hehehe. I don’t mind. I’m used to being stared at.”

“No no, I mean I’m sorry for kicking you.”

“You really are a newbie, huh. I was the one who attacked you, so which makes it self defense. So basically I won't sue you.”

“That’s a relief…”

I should be saying the same thing, I’ve finally found my first villager.”

Let me repeat, she was beautiful. She had nicely trimmed bangs, long, slender limbs, big and slightly droopy eyes…

“Ehehe.”

…And her laugh. It felt like a refined but mischievous cat had become human. It may be immoral to think this way about a girl who is probably way younger than me, but my heart fluttered.

Serves you right! Not to anyone in particular though.

“My name is Satomi Aoba. Nice to meet you, Mr. First Villager.”

Serves you right! Not to anyone The beautiful girl introduced herself and bowed at a comfortable angle. Just like her name “Aoba,” her long hair swayed like fresh green leaves.

“This isn’t a village, it’s a town,” I corrected, making it an irrelevant point. “Um, what are you doing all the way to a town like this anyways?”

“I’m on a trip to heal my broken heart.”

The girl who called herself Aoba had a refined outfit and had a nice hairstyle, and the carry bag that had injured me looked heavy, so she certainly looked like a traveler from out of the country.

But this town was just home to the birthplace of a famous pianist, there’s nothing else worth seeing here. There’s just an overwhelming amount of nature.

I wonder if they’re on their way to some tourist spot… But how could even a beautiful girl like this have her heart broken? The outside is pretty scary, I thought.

“By the way, what happened to this town? It’s so empty,” Aoba asked, smiling like a female announcer.

“Well, actually, I don’t really know either.”

“You don’t know?”

“Because I was asleep.”

“Oh dear, why?”

“Because I was tired.” My response was typical of trash, but it’s been a while since he's had a proper conversation with a human, let alone a pretty girl, so it can't be helped… Let’s just accept that.

“Hehehe,” Aoba suddenly bursts out laughing. “I understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a total newbie, aren’t you?”

“At what?”

“At life.”

“Huh?”

“It looks like your life isn’t doing too well. It’s hard to go from newbie to pro without some success in your life.”

“........”

“Think of the horizontal bar or the guitar. If you stumble on your first step, you won’t be able to do a backflip or an arpeggio.”

“Don’t you think you're being a little harsh on someone you just met?”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“I know you probably really want to lecture me right now, But before that, I want you to tell me what happened. I was, well, really asleep…”

“It was the work of Byakuya Togami.”

Byakuya Togami was famous, sure, but he wasn’t the type of person that young girls would know about, and it wasn’t the kind of name that would come up at a time like this.

“You’re telling me you didn’t know about the World Domination Declaration?”

I was confused, and Aoba tilted her head, looking even more confused than I did. That reaction was troubling. I’d never heard of a World Domination Declaration. I never thought I’d ever even hear such a stupid declaration.

And so after hearing everything, I was, well, how should I put it, exhausted.

Byakuya Togami declared world domination in Prague? We have to either kill him within 24 hours or find the “poor cow” (whatever that means) or otherwise then he’ll conquer the world? He dropped a satellite on an island in the Mediterranean to prove that his “declaration” was serious?

Are you kidding me?

I mean, why Prague? Did he use a private jet? That just pisses me off. I’ve never had my wallet stuffed with point cards like that guy.

“Byakuya Togami is an arrogant prick,” I said. He’s the Super High School Level Heir. He’s Japanese but has blonde hair and blue eyes and calls himself the Super High School Level Perfection. He made about 40 billion yen from day trading, wears sharp glasses…”

“Do you know him?”

“I could never.”

“You know a lot about him considering you don’t know him.”

Know a lot about him? Of course I do, right? My beloved Hope. My hated Hope.

I…

I’ve always…

“I’ve always wanted to get into Hope’s Peak Academy.”

“Well,” Aoba chimed in. “One of my friends got into Hope’s Peak Academy.”

“Really?”

“So what kind of talent do you have, mister?”

I wondered which word hurt my feelings more, but I think it was both.

“I have no talent.”

But I have dreams.

When a boy watching a Major League Baseball broadcast has a vague dream of becoming a Major Leaguer, or when a girl who happens to pass by a flower shop has a small dream of becoming a florist, there is hardly anyone who calmly decides that they don't have the talent and gives up on their dream.

I had dreams. I had dreams because I read authors like Seiichi Kirima, Hiroto Shimabe, Kojo Sugita, Tatsumi Sekiguchi, Kyusaku Yumeno, Kilgore Trout, and Derek Hartfield.

The only thing they had that I didn’t was talent. But that didn’t matter now.

The two of us exchange information. When Togami Byakuya issued his World Domination Declaration in Prague, I was sleeping in my apartment and escaping reality, and the town was probably deserted during that time, and Aoba arrived after it was all over. Three questions came to mind.

Question number one: Why did they attack such a remote area? There are many cities out there that would be perfect for attacking as the first step in world domination. Sapporo, New York, Bologna, or Anqing would have been fine, so why did they target this place?

Question number two: Why did he eliminate the townsfolk? The best way to show off your power and instill fear is to kill. Making them vanish seems to miss the point a little. Or maybe there’s some other reason?

Question number three:

“Why did you hit me?”

“Well there was no guarantee that you were a townsfolk. So I thought I’d first make you lose your will to fight and then listen to what you had to say.”

“Do soldiers do such horrible things?”

“I dunno, but…”

Rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle!

Aoba started to leave, pulling the carry bag that she’d attacked me with.

“Wait, wait. I apologize if I offended you.”

“Did I say anything about you offending me?” Aoba turned around. “Apologizing immediately is what a newbie would do. If you feel guilty, you’re the one who loses.”

“Sorry.” In the end, all I could think of was to apologize. “Hey, please wait. Where are you heading off to?”

“I’m just checking some stuff.”

“Checking what?”

“I’m checking where the townspeople have vanished to.”

“Do you have any idea where that could be?”

“Nope. I just have something in mind.”

“Something… in mind? Like where?”

“In their houses.”

If you want to hide a tree, you should hide it in the forest. Well, it’s not that easy, here it’s easier and more efficient to keep the townspeople in their homes than to kidnap them.

But why don’t they just come out of their homes? Is there something preventing them from getting out?

Unpleasant thoughts were beginning to take hold, so I decided to use my body instead of my head.

We set our sights on a large house with a red roof and a garden. The lights, though, were off.

Aoba pressed the intercom, but there was no response. She tried pressing again, but there was still nothing. Then Aoba turned the doorknob, but as expected, it’s locked.

“Let’s go around to the garden.”

However, the window facing the garden is also locked, as one would also expect.

“H-hey, let’s call it a day,” I said, feeling hesitant. “If it’s locked, there’s nothing we can do…”

“Move.” Aoba picked up her carrier bag and threw it at the window. A sound seven times louder than I’d imagined echoed through the deserted town. “Now we can go inside from here.” Dragging the carrier bag with the debris on it, Aoba entered the living room.

It was too late to run now so I followed her inside. I turn on the lights and search the first floor. I opened door after door, but I couldn't find anything unusual or out of the ordinary. The home had a typical layout and just the usual furniture. All that was left was to check the bedroom.

Aoba was already standing there by the door and she proceeded to turn the doorknob before I could say anything. Finally, the door was open.

Before us was… a middle school student... or a high school student? It didn’t really matter now though, he was already dead.

The boy was crucified on the wall of the room. Scissors were stuck deep into his hands, supporting his delicate body. There were several scissors stuck into his abdomen, and one or all of them must have been fatal wounds, as a large amount of blood was leaking out. And beside their corpse was the phrase “Bloodbath Fever,” written in presumably the victim’s own blood.

We immediately ran out of the house. The town was enveloped in silence, as if the carnage we had just witnessed had never even happened.

There was no wind, so the clouds didn’t move, there was no sound because there were no people, and the doors of the houses were closed, like a well-made replica.

We had two choices: Do we look or do we not?

“Let’s look.”

Right. I knew Aoba would say that, but I started to feel sick anyways. There was no point in being prepared or giving up here.

After a quick discussion, we decided to target a house on a back street. It was purely wishful thinking to think that a change in living area would change the chances of survival, but this kind of confirmation work would be impossible to do without some hope.

Just like before, we smashed the window and entered through the living room, just like before.

This time the body was in the shower room. It was a middle school student... a high school student? Well, it didn’t really matter, she was dead. The girl had been thrusted into the bathtub.

There was a knife stabbed in her neck. It was stuck so deep that it would have been extremely difficult to remove, but it glowed eerily in the dim bathtub. The body’s clothes were stained with blood, making their original color difficult to discern.

We ran outside again, and suddenly found ourselves standing on the street where we first met. How much time had passed? How long had we been in a daze, in silence? We looked at each other, breathing heavily, and just stood there.

Finally, Aoba spoke. “…The first body… Isn’t it the work of Genocider Syo?”

“Then the second body must be the work of Jack the Stabber.”

Genocider Syo, a serial killer who is making waves all over Japan.

They target men in their teens and early twenties, stabbing them to pieces with scissors, leaving behind the phrase “Bloodbath Fever” written in the blood of the victim at the scene of the crime, just like a dog marking its territory. It’s abnormal, cruel. And because of their strangely stylish methods and their ability to not leave any evidence behind, they’ve been dubbed an urban legend.

Jack the Stabber, the serial killer who specializes in young girls.

Their method of killing is simple: a single stab of a knife into the neck. To date, 77 girls have been murdered. Their elusive nature has even led to a three-minute program called “Today’s Jack the Stabber Forecast,” which has a pretty bad reputation among PTAs and human rights advocates but great ratings, with some sarcastically saying it could become a long-running TV show.

Both Genocider Syo and Jack the Stabber are Japan’s leading serial killers, and their true identities are shrouded in mystery. I’ve heard that not only the police, but even the detective library’s own zero rank detectives can’t find any clues about them.

There are rumors that they may or may not have asked the Japan Detectives’ Club to investigate. They may or may not have even asked the ER3 system Comprehensive Research Center to solve the case.

“But it’s most likely a copycat killer,” I quickly mentioned to avoid unneeded trouble. How strange is it that the two biggest killers in Japan just happened to come to the same town and murder people at the same time. It’s just too absurd.

Well, it’s also absurd to think that a copycat killer would ravage this town, but if Byakuya Togami was serious about planning something absurd, it could have happened.

But why the hell would he do that? World domination? Are you really serious about that? If so, I’m disappointed in you, Byakuya Togami.

Ugh, I reeeeeeally don’t give a damn about world domination. Even if I had the whole world in my hands, I’d just be doing the same thing but now as a landlord. Collecting rent, listening to complaints, and doing renovations. What’s fun about that?

Ruling the world is not the same as flying around it with your talents, Byakuya Togami of all people should know that much. Now I was curious about the details of that World Domination Declaration that he had made in Prague.

“Hey Mister, let’s check the other houses too.”

A parade of depressing words.

Wanting any information we could, we continued our tiresome search. The results: We searched fifteen homes and found fifteen bodies. One person was in a wedding dress, with all four limbs severed. Another person had their chest pierced deeply with a Japanese sword (specifically a dotanuki). Someone had their head thrust into a tank of goldfish swimming in it. Someone else was frozen in an industrial freezer. Some other person had a message written in their own blood.

You get the idea, we can omit the other ten bodies. They were dismembered, headless, and all sorts of bizarre stuff. Speaking of bizarre, all of the fifteen homes we checked were locked. It wasn’t just the front doors, but even stuff like small windows in the attic and the bathrooms were locked.

They were locked rooms, but it didn’t stop there.

There was a dead bird in a birdcage and a dead dog in a dog house, but the birdcage door had wire wrapped around it and the doghouse’s entrance was boarded up. Furthermore, chains were wrapped around a microwave containing the body of a baby, and duct tape had been stuck to the lid of the electric kettle with a kitten’s body inside.

Uh… Is it fair to conclude that every living thing in this town, except for me and Aoba, had been killed inside of some locked room? If so…

…The world is fucked.

When things get to this point, you might as well raid a store.

We snatched some food from the shelves of an abandoned supermarket. We made a makeshift table out of an upside-down vegetable case, and placed some sausages and zucchini on it all while I drank a can of beer. Normally I can’t stand nicotine or alcohol, but this was an emergency. The vague drunkenness felt good.

I haven’t felt my body craving alcohol since that despair inducing graduation ceremony. I drank a lot that time, and I was hit with a hangover… a three long day hangover. After drowning myself in alcohol until I was utterly wasted, I threw up like the protagonist from A Personal Matter, but the despair that had seeped inside me never went away.

The “Personal Despair” planted in me by hope tormented me, so I had no choice but to become a mole. I had no choice but to buy security and escape into a good night’s sleep.

I was crushed by hope, and lived in a world without hope. I didn’t leave my room, and burrowed into a place where there was no hope.

“Hehehe.”

“Y-you… Why are you laughing?”

“You’re still a newbie, mister. Didn’t you know? If you force yourself to laugh, it’ll calm your mind.”

“I guess that’s how it is.”

“Why don’t you try laughing? Come on, laugh with me! Hehehe... What’s this? It’s delicious. Try eating this! It’s super tasty!”

So then why am I out and connecting with someone over a meal?

The foreign gummy candy that Aoba handed me tasted like a bicycle tire. It’s been a while since I've eaten something that doesn’t suit my taste. Usually when I’m with other people, I'm forced to eat, read, and watch things I don’t like.

“Om nom.” As Aoba walks through the store eating her gummies, her eyes sparkle like a mischievous cat.

According to her own words, she had come here on a trip to get over a broken heart, and she looked exhausted when she saw a corpse. In that sense, she was probably a normal girl.

But… her resilience…

…It was extraordinary.

Despite having just been caught up in such a dreadful situation and seeing many corpses, she only seemed to recover. What kind of life did she live before now?

“Now what do we do?” Meanwhile, I was exhausted. “The last thing I want to do is look at more dead bodies.”

“Om nomph. It doesn’t look like we’ll get any more results this way, and I’m curious about other towns, so should we move?”

“I agree. I totally agree.”

“Do you have any friends or family?”

“No.”

“What about a girlfriend?”

“I- what? My parents don’t live here, and I don’t have any friends.”

“My condolences.”

“Eh?”

“My C-O-N-D-O-L-E-N-C-E-S,” Aoba said, pausing. “I have a great idea. Why don’t we split up?”

“H-hold on, what do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean?”

“What’s so great about that idea? Even if there are any survivors that got separated…”

“Hehehe. I don’t see any benefit in traveling with you.” Aoba said bluntly, smiling.

“Err, but, well,” I was deeply shocked, but I tried desperately to think things through. “You know, they say that even a brush with someone’s sleeve is a bond from a past life. Prince Naka No Oe and Nakatomi no Kamatari, who initiated the Taika Reforms, met through playing kemari.”

“Kemari?”

“Have you never heard of the Taika Reforms?”

“I probably learned about it through the Isshi Incident.”

This was no time to be upset by the generational gap. I pleaded desperately. I suggested that I knew the geography of the area well and that I could drive a car. I’d never tried to promote myself so much before.

In the end, Aoba reluctantly agreed to accompany me. We started moving before she could change her mind.

I left the supermarket with a beautiful girl next to me. This is the first time in my life that I’ve walked around with such a fine looking girl. But if I let my guard down even for a moment, Aoba will abandon me and head off. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn’t be an issue, but this situation was far from normal.

No. Is it because this is an abnormal situation that I have to be strong? Being a man is tough. I mean, if you're not strong, you’re basically worthless.

“Soooo, where’s your car, Mister?”

“I don’t have one.”

“...............”

“Hey, uh, wait, hold on. Let’s take that one.”

I hurried over to an old Toyota Corolla parked on the side of the road. I took a wire I’d stolen from the supermarket and bent it like a fishing hook and (information redacted), and the driver’s door opened. Then I put my hands under the steering wheel and (information also redacted) until the engine started.

Aoba stared at me with a rather disgusted look on her face. “Where did you learn that trick, mister?”

“I looked it up on the internet a long time ago.”

“And why did you do that?”

“I dunno. I wanted to get stronger…”

“Go on.”

Ka-tunk.

I heard a noise. Aoba stared at me.

I… I… I pretended I didn’t hear that.

Aoba let out a short sigh, dragged her carry-on bag, and moved in the direction of the noise.

Ka-tunk!

The next sound was heavy, and reverberated in my stomach, like a bowling ball being dropped. To my dismay, it was loud enough to pinpoint the house.

Aagh! I chased after Aoba.

Aoba was already standing in front of the house which seemed to be the source of the sound.

“Why did you follow me?”

“Well, I was worried…”

“I can open it on my own.”

Aoba put her hand on the doorknob, and it opened easily even though all fifteen houses before this one that we had entered were locked.

We broke in. The living room had no abnormalities. Neither did the kitchen, and the shower room was clear as well.

As I walked up the stairs to the second floor and approached the door to what seemed to be a bedroom, a voice rang out from inside the room.

“Hey, president. What are we gonna do with this? You can’t cut it properly with a saw!”

“That’s what I said, vice-president. If you’re gonna dismember it, freeze the body first.”

“Kahaha! It’s frozen tuna! Exciting.”

“Look at it. All slimy with blood. So slimy!”

“I don’t have any sympathy for you. It’s your fault for not listening to my advice.”

“It’s too slimy! It looks like an eel! This will definitely traumatize me and I’ll develop a fetish for it!”

“Just shut up and cut it off!”

“Kahaha, okay! We’re amputating the limbs! So exciting!”

I was horrified. Those were the voices of children. It was changing with puberty, but it was still a high-pitched voice. Judging from the conversation that the kids were having, it seemed they were cutting up the body.

“KahahI remembered the “ka-tunk” sound I had heard earlier. Which parts had been cut off?

“We need to go.” I said. “We’ve reached our limit, we need to get out.”

“But…”

“What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean ‘but?’ There’s nothing we can do…”

“That's right!” The door opened, and a boy in a school uniform appeared. “You can’t save the dead. All you have to do is look into the locked room.”

“In games, manga, and novels, you always see scenes where people talk in front of a corpse, but that’s not realistic. They disregard the corpse. Such a feat is impossible unless you’re a pro. So, we’re gonna talk about corpses in a place where there are none.”

We were in the living room on the first floor. There was a luxurious carpet, a vintage sofa, replicas of Mucha's paintings hanging on the walls, and antique teacups and sugar jars on the large table.

In this European looking room, a middle school boy who seemed to be the leader of the group was chatting away. His middle school uniform and cap passed the line of vintage and right into cosplay.

Sitting next to him was a large boy who was also dressed, but he was carrying a tin of cookies and munching on them, making him look like a mess like Gorilla-Imo from The Gutsy Frog.

The other kid was a girl in a sailor uniform, preparing tea. "Ehehe. Please, ladies and gentlemen. Have some Darjeeling tea! I think that’s what it is, at least!" The girl placed the tea in front of me.

“Beer.”

“Wha?”

“Shouldn’t there be some beer in the fridge?” I said as assertively as possible.

“Oh, right! You’re definitely not underage, so I’ll bring it right away! I love doing what people tell me!”

“A tomboy, huh? People these days, you’d think it would be hard being so overequipped.”

In this chaotic living room, Aoba drank the tea that had been served to her, her recovery was quick as hell as ever.

“By the way, I’m amazed you survived all that,” the boy said. “You don’t look like the ‘extraordinary’ person I was in contact with…”

I couldn’t respond, I’ve never been called “extraordinary” before.

“Say, have you ever heard the saying, ‘The world is made up of locked rooms?’”

I couldn’t respond to that either, because obviously the world isn’t made up of locked rooms.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sir!”

The label on the bottle of beer the girl brought over said Pilsner Urquell. I wanted something like Sapporo or Kinmugi instead, but beggars can’t be choosers.

I gulped down the beer in one swig. Oh well, I’ll get through this with the power of drinking.

“Listen, I’m an adult. Uh, basically, I don't care to listen to the ramblings of a kid.”

“So you’re ashamed.”

“Would you guys happen to be working with Byakuya Togami?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Just a guess.”

“Of course,” the boy nodded. “Inference. Conjecture. Deduction. This isn’t a time that calls for synonyms of ‘surmising.’ Even a monkey could make guesses like that.”

“...........”

“Even so, I commend you for bringing up Byakuya Togami, in this atmosphere, at this time. We are, to be precise, students of Hope’s Peak.”

What did he just say? Hope’s Peak?

“Woosh!” “Kaboom!” “Pow!” The three students jumped onto the sofa and struck some slightly old-fashioned poses.

“In the name of the moonlight and its message of undying love, I am the club president! Also known as the Super Junior High Level Mystory Maniac!”

“I’m not looking at spoilers for nothin’. I’m the vice-president of course! Also known as the Super Junior High Level Mystory Fan!”

“No way. I'm… well… I’m just an ordinary keeper who’s actually not that interested in mystories!”

“We three live for mystory!” “We’ll risk it all just to face it!” "That’s why we’re the–”

“–Hope’s Peak Junior Academy Mystory Research Club!”

Hmm, this is… very expected from liberal arts students. Everyone’s movements were a bit off, but they seemed proud, and were breaking out in a refreshing sweat. They were giving off a slightly youthful vibe.

I watched all of it.

“Bahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

And I bursted into laughter.

Hope’s Peak Academy.

This government-funded academy is only open to high school students with special talents, and relies entirely on scouting its students. While there are affiliate schools, none of them actually allow students to advance to higher education, and there is always the wall of scouting standing in the way.

Even so, if you do well at an affiliated school, you are more likely to catch the eye of a scout. The curriculum includes efficient ways to find and effectively bring out talents, and some students “awaken to their talents” through interactions with the main school.

But, most students don’t get into the main school. Most students just go to regular high schools after graduating from the affiliate school.

Similarly, Hope’s Peak Academy also has a system called the reserve course, which is separate from the affiliated school, but I’m not even going give it the respect of laughing at it. Everyone knows that place where you pay big money to get into with the Hope’s Peak Academy name tag is actually the “trash course.”

And to me, affiliate schools and the reserve course are basically the same. It’s not about talent. It never was about talent. They’re no different from moles like me.

That’s why I laughed it off. Don’t be arrogant and walk outside like you actually mean something.

The students from the affiliate school were confused by my laughter.

“Jeez, our customer has gone crazy~!” The girl who introduced herself as a keeper said.

“Do you think he’s laughing at us?”

“Yes, he is. And he’s laughing with passion and tenacity.”

“Bahahahahaha!” I laughed confidently, probably thanks to the alcohol. “I almost choked. What the hell are you on about with that ‘we are students of Hope’s Peak’ speech? It’s just an affiliate school. It’s no different from that reserve course.”

“I don’t believe it,” said the big kid who introduced himself as the vice-president. “Don’t group us with the trash course.”

“It’s the same either way. You yearn for hope, but you can’t become hope.”

“That may be true for the trash course, but…”

“Did you know that the number of affiliate school students who get into ordinary schools is greater than the number of students scouted by the main course?”

“Sure. but affiliated schools have a lot of people who are like Hope’s Peak Academy students. People like the Super Elementary School Homeroom or the Super Junior High Level Tea Ceremony Club Member…”

“That’s enough.” The boy who called himself the club president stopped him from making excuses. “Since we’re not students of the main course and we're just newbies from an affiliated school, whatever we say has zero persuasive power.”

“But it makes me angry! I hate having our talents dismissed by someone like that.”

“Vice-president, don’t forget that even without entering the main course, we’re still showing off our talents to the world!”

“What’s that?” I pursued, finding what the president said interesting. “So is this just a fit of despair because you realized they couldn’t get into the main course? You call that a talent?”

What a stupid thought. It’s the same as a self proclaimed artist smashing a Picasso painting and shouting, “I did it!” It’s no different from a dissatisfied person whose life sucks going out of their way to read the despair novel to get the despair disease before going wild.

“You’re very precise with your mean words. You must have been dominated by inferiority complexes for a long time,” the club president pointed out. “Can I ask you a question too?”

“What is it?”

“…I haven’t gone through three cycles of the zodiac yet.” I thought I'd come up with a clever response, but then I realized it wasn’t that great and now I feel embarrassed.

Stop it. Don’t talk about age. In the end, my attack was like a high school graduate who lost to society looking down on a prep school student… No, it was just looking down on someone from below and making fun of them. The moment I got serious, I became just another cranky old man. A mole who abandoned talent.

“Hehehe…” Laughter echoed through the living room. The beautiful girl quietly put down her teacup. “Shall we get back to the main topic?” Aoba said with a smile. “The students from the affiliate school are engaged in terrorist activities. Hope’s Peak didn’t send you, did they?”

“Of course they didn’t. Hope’s Peak Academy loves hope, so there’s no way they would encourage despair.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why divert down the wrong path?”

“I want you to call it a split. Factions are born everywhere. Factions are always radical and unpopular, but eventually they become the right path. Just like the history of mysteries.”

“What’s your relationship with Byakuya Togami?”

“He’s our senior and the one in charge. However, we’re not interested in that kind of world domination. Just like there are countless definitions of mystory, there're countless types of world domination. The contents and clothes of each person are different as they say. For us, the Mystory Research Club, if we can spread salvation to the whole world, then that’s enough for us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not interested in the world’s understanding. I’m not interested in anything other than the path I believe in. This is also like the history of mysteries.”

“I’ve been wondering for a while now, what do you mean by mystory?’”

“Wha?” “The?” “Huh?” Everyone in the Mystory Research Club at Hope’s Peak Academy Junior High School was frozen in place.

“It’s about mystery novels,” I add. “I think the Mystory Research Club is a mystery novel club.”

“But why do they say ‘mystory’ instead of ‘mystery?’”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s an aesthetic thing?”

“That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Have you seen the corpses?” the president says in a low voice. “Have you seen the bodies we put our heart and soul into?”

“You say that like it’s rice you made. I saw.”

“Did you notice the similarities?”

“What similarities?”

The tired president sighed. “It’s a metaphor! A metaphor! Like a dry landscape garden that uses stones and sand to represent water. You must at least know about The Inugami Family.”

“Have you read it, mister?”

“I’ve read The Thibaults,” I answered. “That explanation gave me the general idea. The bodies were decorated to resemble the crimes of Genocider Syo and Jack the Stabber.”

“It’s not just real-life incidents we based our work on. Did you notice the likeness to mystery novels?”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll give you a special spoiler. The corpse with a Japanese sword stuck in its chest is a reference to the corpse from the murder at the Takeda Haunted Mansion. The corpse in the wedding dress with its limbs cut off is a reference to Subete ga F ni Naru…”

“Hmmm.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Didn’t they make an anime or a TV drama about that before?”

“Let’s change the topic.”

“Pretty sure Salinger never approved of his works being adapted,” I pointed out.

“Sorry!” The president held his head in his hands. “Oh my gosh, what a disaster! What a tragedy! How did it come to this…”

“President, hold on, hold on. It’s just winter.” The keeper seems to be having fun for some reason. “So, come with me and talk about love in this freezing cold season.”

“I think that mystory, once at the height of its glory, is now in the middle of an ice age.”

“Because it was an industry that wasn’t used to winning, it didn’t have the tech to sustain its dominance in the medium.”

“Keeper, whose side are you on?”

“I’m on your side, president! I’m gonna take off my sports bra now, so please forgive me. Mmmph!”

“I don’t think mystory lost or perished, but rather fulfilled its purpose. It spread like a seed and permeated every genre and every culture.”

“Well, president, thanks to that, people like me came about. I only read while playing games, but even so I was able to come into contact with mystories thanks to the nourishment of your beloved books. So come on, cheer up!”

“I’m grateful.”

“If you’re depressed, Operation Lock Up the World won’t move forward. Locking this boring world in a locked room and filling this meaningless world with meaningful deaths can’t continue without you!”

“Wait, so that’s your motive here?”

“That’s correct.” The president looked up, as if regaining his composure. “We’re killing people in order to fulfill Operation Lock Up the World and turn the world into one big locked room.”

I see, no wonder I didn’t understand. I was relieved to find out they didn’t make sense. It felt better knowing now that these kids and I were different.

“Of course, I don’t expect you to understand,” the president continued. “It’s not a very common sensibility to find beauty in the ritual of recreating every crime, every mystory, every locked room, and placing a corpse there.”

“Just in case, do you have any symptoms?”

“You’re a maniac only if you're aware of your own insanity.”

“All insane people are maniacs.”

“And all maniacs get excited when people call them insane.”

“Is Byakuya Togami also a mystory maniac?”

“Nope, Mr. Togami is just an investor. He provided us with enough funds and personnel to complete Operation Lock Up the World for his own world domination. And it’s not just in this town. By now Operation Lock Up the World is probably being carried out simultaneously all over the globe.”

It didn’t make sense, but that’s fine. Everyone can do what they want, with their own opinions and their own talents.

But there was just one thing I just couldn’t stand. Let me repeat: I reeeeeeally don’t give a damn about world domination. Even if Byakuya Togami were to try his hand at world domination as a result of fully demonstrating his talent as the Super High School Level Heir, I wouldn’t like it.

Because at the end of the day it’s a different direction. This isn’t the outside I want.

“You’re probably happy to have been at today’s pre-party,” the club president said. “Now, I think it’s time to add some color to your grey lives.”

“A-are you going to kill us?”

“What kind of locked room do you want to die in? Do you have a favorite trick?”

“Why would I have one…?”

“Don’t be angry. Have no fear. All I’m saying is that I'm going to replace a meaningless life where you just die with a meaningful death in a locked room. I’m happy to…”

“Ooooooooooh! I got it” The one who let out a roar was the vice-president, who hadn’t really said anything for a while. He spat out cookie crumbs from his mouth and pointed at Aoba with his fingers, which were also covered in cookie crumbs.

“Please be quiet, vice-president,” the president warned, of course, “I’ve been explaining this and that to you about the setup, and I’m now finally threatening you at the most critical moment.”

“No, that’s not important.”

“What are you calling not important?”

“I finally remembered.” The vice-president looked at Aoba. “Hey, are you Satomi Aoba?”

“How do you know her name?” I interrogated, surprised.

“Hey! What’s with that reaction? You’ve been with me all this time without knowing a thing?”

“A thing? What thing?”

“Satomi Aoba! She’s an idol!”

When the vice-president spoke, the name of an idol group that every Japanese person knows popped into my head. And the person at its center:

Sayaka Maizono.

The reason why I, a newbie at the world, know this person so well is not because of her beauty or fame, but because of her talent. Sayaka was the Super High School Level Idol and enrolled at Hope’s Peak Academy.

So does that mean… Aoba was a member of that group? Does this mean I’ve been walking with an idol this whole time? What kind of development is that…?

“Wooooow, amaaaaaaazing!” The vice-president seems impressed. “I mean, why is Satomi Aoba of all people here? Are you on location for some kind of shoot? Are you taking pictures for a promo? Can I get your autograph?”

“Hehehe.” Aoba just chuckled.

“Yippee Ki Yay!” The vice-president seemed to take that as a yes. “Hey, boss, give me some paper you don’t need. Can I tear up that book you always carry around?”

“Do you think that little of someone else’s rare book?”

“You’re so stingy. If there were no pages, it would be more mysterious and it would be way better.”

“Wow, what a real nice thing to say.”

“I like your position,” the vice-president said in a good mood. “The public is all about Sayaka Maizono, and the stans are rooting for Ayaka Haneyama, but they don’t get it like I do.”

“So you’re actually an idol fan?” The president was dumbfounded.

“With Sayaka Maizono in the center, the five of you appear on stage.” The vice-president didn’t stop. “Numbers 2 and 3 will be on either side of Sayaka Maizono. Ayaka Haneyama will stand on the far right, and Satomi Aoba on the far left. These are the usual positions, you get it? It’s actually a safe bet to root for Ayaka Haneyama, who is the least popular around here.”

“You’re way more passionate about this than mystory!”

“Hey, president, saying something like ‘I like Yutaka Maya’ instead of ‘I like Kotaro Isaka’ makes it sound more like you know more about mystories. Kids who pretend to love carrots because its in their curry are annoying, right?”

“I don’t really get the latter analogy.”

“People who support Ayaka Haneyama are promoting themselves as ‘I'm a huge fan of Ayakanegon, the ugly underdog, so I’m so cool!’ At the same time, they feel relieved by that stance.”

“Whatever, but don’t forget to follow Isaka. I don’t think it’s a joke…”

“Being a fan of Sayaka Maizono or Ayaka Haneyama is the same thing from my perspective. I think it’s important for the industry today to focus on Satomi Aoba, who is number 4, rather than number 1 or number 5. Even though she’s not bad looking or bad at singing, we never focus on Satomi Aoba, who is somehow number 4.”

Even though I have no knowledge of the idol group, his explanation was accurate enough for me to understand Aoba’s current situation. In other words, Aoba was hurt.

And yet her expression never changed, she kept smiling. Is it because she’s a professional? Is it pride? Is she just used to pigs shit talking about her?

If so, then she’s with me. We’re together on this.

I’ve been hurt by the swindlers that are rampant in this world, the fakes who act big on the outside even though they have no talent. Talentless hacks telling me, “You have no talent.”

Hell they’re organizing this “Operation Lock Up the World” thing which is exactly what a person with zero talent would do, and they’re desperately trying to stand out on the outside for some reason.

I can’t stand to have those swindlers speak more about talent.

Fuck talent!

These affiliate school brats refuse to admit that they have no talent, and now they’re all paying attention to Aoba as if the mole didn’t matter.

I took a deep breath and secretly wiped the sweat from my palms. My fingers were trembling. I had a headache, probably due to the tension. My head had never experienced success, and images of failure and defeat ran through my mind. I didn’t feel like I could win. I didn’t feel like I could do well.

But I was going to do it, goddamn it.

I put my hand on the table and flipped it over in one go. Teacups, plates, spoons, and sugar bowls all flew into the air and pounced on the talentless middle schoolers.

Now!

I grabbed Aoba’s hand, it was cold but soft.

“Come on, we’re going. Together.”

With that, I gripped Aoba’s hand and broke through the glass of the living room window. I rushed outside, showered with glass, and passed through the garden and onto the street.

I got into the car and stomped on the accelerator, causing the car to accelerate in one go. We set off. We were able to escape.

The scenery flew by, passing the deserted town.

No, that wasn’t it… There are dead bodies in every house that can be seen from here, and people locked away in sealed rooms. All these people nonsensically had their lives taken away. But we just barely escaped that nonsense and survived.

“Hey mister,” Aoba finally spoke. “That was kinda cool of you.”

Yeah, I agree.