Episode IX - On One Bright Day, He...

Why don't I tell you about S?

S was the person who understood me better than any in the world, was my nemesis, my best friend, my other half, my eternal opponent.

The terrifying wisdom S possessed penetrated everything.

My act, which hoodwinked everyone I ever met, failed to convince S. I feared S accordingly.

The more fear I felt of S, the less I could escape. In classes and after, I was with S.

I felt as though S's gaze was a judge employed by God to check me — a thought which caused my limbs to tremble and sweat to break out with fear and shame.

This world is hell. I was a slave to S.

I spent lunch the next day scouring through old yearbooks at the library.

I sat down at a table in the reading room and flipped through the album from ten years ago.

There was a picture of the archery team taken after they'd placed in the national tournament. There was the young Guy without his mustache, the man with the glasses, and even Reona, all of them smiling and holding certificates and a trophy.

No one looked like Anthony Flavier. I turned next to the class photos.

It gave me a strange feeling to examine each person's face in turn, searching for someone who looked like me.

Class one, class two, class three, class four…

When I turned the next page, I felt as if a chilly hand had just stroked the back of my neck.

There he was.

In the group photo for class five of the third-year students.

The students' names were listed below it, and the name Anthony Flavier was among them.

But in this, the critical photo, I could not find his face. There was space at the top of the page where it looked like a photo had been pasted in.

That part had been neatly cut out.

What did it mean that his picture had been up there? And who in the world would have cut it out and taken it? A shiver ran through me.

Maybe Anthony transferred to another school before graduation. Or maybe… maybe he was in the hospital because he got sick or hurt, so he couldn't be in the class picture. Or maybe…

I closed the yearbook and moved to the computer room: I wanted to try an Internet search on Anthony Flavier and the school's name from ten years ago.

I found an old newspaper article. Reading it made me feel dizzy.

Ten years ago in May, Anthony Flavier (seventeen), a third-year student at Quinilla Academy, had jumped off a roof to his death.

The words "jumped off a roof" dug icy claws into my heart, beating violently against the gates of old memories.

It was too much.

My throat was dry, my head spinning. Of all things, a roof.

And he jumped off, of all things. It was terrible.

The article said that he had stabbed himself in the chest with a knife just before jumping. It mentioned that his death was believed to be a suicide because of a note left at his home.

I felt sick to my stomach, thinking about the insurmountable regrets and despair in his life.

Why did it always have to be like this?

Before we had discovered the second letter, Anthony Flavier had taken his own life, just like Benedict Crumbling.

"No way! How could Anthony have killed himself ten years ago?"

At Literature Club after school, Alice was just as floored as I had been when she heard my news.

"I wonder if Janella knows about this."

"I don't know," I murmured dispassionately.

I had felt dizzy and nauseous when I read the article about Anthony's suicide at the library, and I'd been terrified that maybe that was going to kick in again, but the chaos had receded like a wave, leaving only questions.

"It shouldn't be possible to meet someone dead for ten years, so that means that Janella has been lying to us. Why would she have done that? What benefit does she get from doing something like that?"

"It may have something to do with the fact that you resemble Anthony. Are you sure there's no one in your family named Flavier?"

"I'm sure. At least, no one I've ever heard of."

The day that Janella had run past, crying in the rain, she had called me "Anthony." She had known that I resembled him.

So then why had she spent so much time with me?

Alice held one end of her braids in each hand, then sprang to her feet. "Oh, maybe! You and Anthony might be brothers! Anthony's suicide could just be an act, and in fact, he'd secretly gotten mixed up in a terrible plot. Relatives after his inheritance turned their sights on you, the rightful heir to the company, and they sent a string of assassins after you. Little Janella is actually your bodyguard, and, and, and…"

"Cut it out. That's such cheap story development." Alice slumped. "I'm sorry. It just came to me."

"I think your brain got cooked when you were sick."

"That's so mean! I'm all better now. And besides, my hunches might not be all wrong, you know!"

"Hunches? That wasn't a hunch, it was a total delusion."

"Hmmph."

Alice scowled and puffed out her cheeks grumpily.

"Oh, I know. We need to investigate this case in depth. My hunches might be just a tiny bit right."

"How are we going to investigate something from ten years ago?"

"We could ask teachers who were here ten years ago or ask old Literature Club members. There are ways to do it."

"Are there old Literature Club members?"

Alice puffed up her flat chest and pulled out a notebook.

"Ha! This volume contains the names of former members of Quinillia Academy's legendary Literature Club. Let's see, alumni from ten years ago… Look! There are three whole people!"

That's it?

"Let's get in touch with them ASAP."

Alice hurried me out of the clubroom, surging with excitement. There was a payphone on the first floor. Alice kept one eye on the notebook as she dialed each number. Alice didn't own a cell phone, since her body (I guess?) messed up machines. I didn't carry mine with me much, since I didn't have that many friends.

We called the first name on the list.

"This telephone number is no longer in service. Please confirm the number you have dialed and…"

Then the second one: "Huh? Kenneth? My name is Karlos."

Then the third one: "Ahaha, well now, our baby boy went to work at a laboratory in Paris last spring. Ahaha!"

"W-well, there's still the first- and second-year students from ten years ago."

Alice flipped through the notebook, smiling.

The first of the second-year students: "This call cannot be completed because of customer problems."

The second: "Huh? Literature Club? Everything's going to hell right now. Call me back in six months. CLICK!"

Next were the first-year students…

"There aren't any. No first-year students. It's blank."

Alice looked at the empty column on the list of names and stuck out her lower lip.

The greater mystery was not the truth of who Anthony Flavier was, but how our club had ever managed to survive.

Standing in front of the phone, shoulders slumped, Alice nervously fiddled with the tip of one braid. I spoke up soberly. "Let's forget about it. We're better off not getting involved with Janella or Anthony more than we already are."

The truth was, after I found out that Anthony had leaped to his death, I'd gotten scared. The roof brought back terrible memories.

Alice looked back over her shoulder at me, her eyes were ever so slightly sad. "Can you live with that, Andy?"

"Well, it creeps me out that my doppelgänger committed suicide, and it bothers me that Janella and the archery team alums are all hiding something. But what can I do about it?"

Alice frowned dejectedly. Then she shook her head fiercely, her braids swinging together like cats' tails. "No, I can't do it. What if Anthony's ghost wants us to find out the truth, and he's reaching out to us from the beyond? If we quit now, he'll never be at peace and I'll never get that lovely report from little Janella!"

If Anthony was in the beyond, didn't that mean he was already at peace? This was about food, after all…

I was deflated, but Alice grabbed my arm and resolutely declared, "We can't let this defeat us! Let's dig a little deeper. For this… for this… I'm willing to take it all off."

Wha—?

The next day we visited the school's music hall.

It belonged to the school orchestra, so they never used it for classes.

According to the stories, the former members of the orchestra and their fan club had pooled their money to have it built.

The orchestra had a lot of members, and every year they earned high scores at national competitions. Former members were active around the world, and the school director and his son had both belonged to it.

Because of that, the orchestra was in a class all its own, even among the more well-populated clubs. The difference between it and the two-member Literature Club that was allowed to use a spare storage room out of pity was like the difference between a mansion with an elaborate security system and a run-down apartment with no bathroom.

We opened the thick, soundproofed door and went inside. The first thing we saw was an immense hall that could have seated a thousand people. Musicians with violins, violas, and cellos were practicing under the tutelage of a professional coach.

The variety of sounds pounded against my ears like an invisible flood. "Wow… so this is the entire orchestra."

I'd thought the archery team had a lot of members, but the orchestra was an even bigger clan. In one glance, I thought I counted a hundred people.

"Humph. More members don't make a better club," Alice observed sourly beside me.

There were several small rooms other than the enormous hall, and a member of the orchestra guided us to one of these.

"This is it."

"Thanks. We can handle the rest." "All right. Excuse me, then."

When our guide had left, Alice squared her shoulders as if to harden her resolve, then opened the door. "Here I am, Melanie!"

Instantly, the smell of art supplies assaulted me.

What's going on?

Bright sunlight came in through a skylight to illuminate the room. It covered one entire wall with painted canvases and sketches on paper. A canvas was propped up on an easel in the center of the room, where a girl in a school uniform sat holding a paintbrush. She turned to look at us and grinned slyly.

"Great! So you didn't back out."

In the light, her brown hair gleamed goldenly, and I squinted reflexively in the face of such brilliance.

Her features were also sharply impressive, and she was taller than many boys. She made a majestic picture. And unlike Alice, she had a chest and curves; there was a sensuality to her body and her entire frame gave off a powerful aura.

This was Melanie Felton.

The school director's granddaughter and the conductor in charge of the orchestra. The princess was always the subject of gossip, with her illustrious heritage and good looks.

"So that's Andy, huh? Isn't he a cutie? I'm Melanie Felton. You can call me Melanie."

When she turned her powerful, luminous eyes on me, I tensed. "It's very nice to meet you, Melanie."

She gave me a look after that awkward response and grinned.

Everyone called her "the princess" and gave her special treatment at school, but she didn't possess so much as a shred of meekness or hesitation.

I knew that was because, unlike me, she was the real thing. After she'd had her fill with me, Melanie turned to Alice and her eyes narrowed with pleasure.

"Heh-heh. It was pretty gutsy of you to bring Andy along, Alice. You do know what we're going to be doing, don't you?"

Alice pouted prettily. "Did you find out what I asked you to?"

"It's all here. Because unlike you, we have alums to burn. We've got contact info for more people than we have time to call."

"W-we only let a tiny elite into the Literature Club!"

"Uh-huh. In any case, the orchestra makes up most of the Academy's alumni. There are even members with influence in the police department, so I could discover quite a lot about Anthony Flavier."

"Ohhh, like what?"

The corner of Melanie's mouth lifted in a smirk, and she leered at Alice suggestively.

"That information will be exchanged for the condition we discussed. Are you prepared, Alice?"

"Geez, all right already…"

"Then take your clothes off and sit in that chair. Oh, you can change the pose however you want. I'll just go ahead and sketch it."

"Urk."

Alice's cheeks flushed red, and she touched the ribbon at her throat with slender fingers.

"Hold on, what are you guys talking about? What are you planning to do?"

I couldn't process what the condition was, and the girls each looked at me with different emotions: Alice with embarrassment, Melanie with relish.

"I'm going to model for one of her pictures." "Right. Nude."

N-n-NUDE?!

"I've had my eye on her since we started here, and I've kept trying to convince her to do it. I just had to draw a picture of Alice before we graduated. Only a natural state will do for a true beauty; dressing her up and decorating her with accessories would only distract. I scored when you finally changed your mind!"

Alice's face was bright red, and she was cringing. "Hey, you never said I had to get naked! Th… that depends on your information."

"Which means if I've got good info, you agree to go all the way?" "I… haven't decided."

"Heh-heh-heh, Well, in any case, let's get started. Oh, why don't you take a seat over there, Andy? Then you can fully appreciate the view."

"I said I wasn't doing nude!"

I calmly replied, "Alice has no breasts to speak of. She's perfectly flat-chested. Are you sure you want to use her?"

"Andy!"

"Oh my. Have you already seen Alice naked?"

"You can tell that much with her clothes on. There's not a bump on her. I think someone with more curves would make a better model."

"You're so mean! I… might not have much, but there's at least something there! I'm not totally flat!"

Melanie sputtered, then hugged her stomach and exploded into laughter. "Ahahaha! Hah… hahaha! You're an interesting one, little man. You're right, Alice is com-plete-ly flat… Hahahaha!"

"Melanie, if you don't stop laughing this instant, I'm leaving!" "Mmf… heh-heh… understood."

"Geez, everyone makes fun of me."

Pouting angrily, Alice tugged her ribbon from her shirt.

Then she popped her top button open, and her pale white collarbone flashed into sight.

"But you know, Alice, I really am ecstatic to be able to draw this picture of you."

Melanie crossed her legs and propped her open sketchbook on one knee, then turned a sharp eye on Alice.

"I wanted to join the art club, not an orchestra. But Grandpa and the others forced me into it because of their stupid tradition. I got this room as my condition for joining the orchestra. Half the time I'm here drawing pictures after school. I find an interesting subject and study its every aspect. The time I spend here in trial and error trying to render something's correct form is nearly heaven for me."

Her voice was impassioned as she sketched Alice's figure with a charcoal pencil.

Alice was sitting on a chair with one knee drawn up. She pulled the shoe off her foot and plunked it onto the floor.

Then she took her sock off, too. With a smooth whisper, her pale ankle and it revealed beautifully aligned toes. The nails were painted the same light pink as her fingernails.

Resting her cheek on her knee, Alice murmured in a calm tone so utterly unlike her usual voice,

"Tell me, Melanie. Did Anthony really commit suicide?

Before he fell off the roof, he stabbed a heavy-duty knife into his chest, right? Isn't it possible someone else stabbed him?"

Her hand never stopping, Melanie replied, "Apparently they pursued the theory that it was a homicide, too, but they only found Anthony's fingerprints on the knife. Besides, he had a motive for suicide, and they found a note at his house. That's what made the police decide it was a suicide."

"He had a motive?"

With another whisper, Alice unraveled one of her braids and fanned her hair out. Her glossy black hair rippled like a soft wave in the ocean. I leaned forward, feeling as if it were sucking me in.

Melanie took in a soft breath.

Alice's expression was shockingly mature. Her lips were loosely closed and she looked straight at Melanie with an almost drowsy expression.

Who knew Alice was capable of looking so… sexy?

"At… the time, Anthony was dating a girl named Marianna Salvi. They were a wonderful couple. Marianna was a beautiful girl, kind and soft-spoken, and they say that Anthony loved her very much and would gush about her to anyone. Anthony liked to give people more than they asked for anyway, and he talked in a cheerful, offhanded way to everyone, so whenever anyone asked him about Marianna, he would go on forever about where they'd gone on a date or what they'd talked about on the phone the night before. He'd talk about anything.

"Marianna was completely devoted to Anthony, too. She would wait for him after archery, and the two of them would go home hand in hand every day."

Plunk.

Alice dropped her other shoe onto the floor.

"But one day, right after they'd started their third year, Anthony stayed late for team business. Marianna went home by herself for once and, as luck would have it, she was hit by a car and killed."

"That's awful… Really?" Alice murmured, her eyes still drowsing. "The light was red and everything, but Marianna ran out into the road, anyway. A truck coming around a curve hit her. They said it killed instantly her."

Alice said nothing and only unraveled her other braid. Waves of black hair spilled down to her waist, cloaking her slender body bewitchingly. She embodied a muse of the arts.

I felt my throat parch suddenly.

"I wonder why Marianna tried to cross the road when the light was red."

"Who knows? Maybe she was hurrying on her way to an errand. Or maybe she didn't see any cars, so she thought it was safe. In any case, Marianna died and Anthony lost the love of his life. They say he suffered more than a little because he blamed himself for not going home with her like they always had. One month later… he killed himself."

The image of a boy falling off the roof started running through my mind.

The tips of my fingers tingled, and my mouth drew tight.

Uh-oh.

It had happened ten years ago. It was utterly unrelated to that.

I struggled to get my breathing under control so Alice and Melanie wouldn't realize that anything unusual was happening.

Alice asked her next question philosophically. "What was in the suicide note they found at Anthony's house?"

"That it was his fault she was dead, that he couldn't bear to live without her, that he was going to be with her soon. And then—" Melanie paused.

Pop.

Alice undid a second button.

"He apologized forever being born."

I felt as if I could hear his voice in my mind, and goosebumps prickled my skin.

Alice rested her face on her knees and touched her index finger to her lips thoughtfully.

Fighting back the tightness in my chest, I asked, "What exactly was Anthony Flavier like?"

"He was easygoing and always telling jokes or messing around. Really popular. Whenever he was around, people couldn't stop laughing. But then, when he was alone, he looked very serious and a little brooding. Girls love that kind of thing. And they really went for him, apparently. They say he was a very kind person… and that the look of shame he sometimes got was unbelievably hot.

"They said so many girls would flock around him during archery that they couldn't actually practice, and the manager scolded him all the time. But he would just laugh it off, which made the manager even angrier, and then everyone would laugh. It was always a lot of fun with Anthony around."

It was exactly the same image of Anthony that Janella had first given us. A cheerful, fun, and kind upperclassman.

Usually upbeat, but whenever he was shooting an arrow, his face became hard.

But the effervescent, popular boy was a mime's disguise that he had created and not the real him. In the letter Janella had shown me, he had said over and over that he was a monster incapable of loving people. He was ashamed to be alive, he couldn't stand for everyone to find out, he swore he would rather die first.

The letter had been stuck inside a copy of Benedict Crumbling's Never Been Human.

Why had Anthony prepared a second, different suicide note? Who was the letter intended for?

Maybe for S, the person who understood him and who was going to destroy him?

Or was it for someone else?

Alice undid the third button on her shirt.

Pale, white skin and a glimpse of white lace peeked out from the opening in her jacket shirt, Melanie my heart pound.

"Did Anthony have any particularly close friends?"

Melanie's hand never stopped moving as she stared hungrily at Alice.

"Apparently he had quite a lot of close friends; but particularly close… that's harder. There were Guy Smith and Stephen Santos, who were in his class and on the archery team with him. Apparently the three of them were together a lot. Guy was their leader, Stephen was the sage and lackey, and Anthony was the one who caused all the trouble and other fun. At the time, Guy was dating the team's manager, Reona Stewart, and they and Marianna would all go out. After graduation, Reona broke up with Guy and started dating Stephen. They got married, so now she's Reona Santos."

Guy Smith. Stephen Santos. Reona Stewart. And his girlfriend, Marianna Salvi.

All of their last names started with "S."

"Oh, and I got a picture of him for you guys."

Melanie paused in her drawing and held the photo up, its face turned toward her. Then she asked meaningfully, "Wanna see it?"

"You deviant," Alice muttered, defeated. She unfastened her fourth button.

A smile came over Melanie's face, but she didn't move.

The front of the shirt was completely open, exposing the slip that covered Alice's chest. A pale violet bra showed through the white silk. I didn't know what to do with my eyes.

When Melanie still didn't move, color flashed into Alice's cheekbones. "I'm just getting over a cold, you know. If I take off any more, I'll get sick again."

"If that happens, I'll plan for you to stay in a private room at the hospital my family goes to and nurse you back to health myself.

"C'moo-n. If you don't show me, the deal's off." Alice pouted. I spoke up.

"Alice looks like such a kid, it's basically breaking the deal, anyway.

Even if she takes off more, it's not going to magically give her a chest. She's amazingly flat, even with the slip."