I looked at my phone screen. 2,847 yen. Kirishima Kotoha stared at that number for a while from inside the futon. The balance confirmation app's text was cold. Merciless. This month's rent was 56,000 yen. No matter how I calculated it, something was wrong. "……I'm done for." I muttered it to no one in particular. The room was a mess. Empty snack bags scattered across the floor. Three laptop computers lined up on the desk. The curtains hadn't been opened yesterday or the day before. I was barely scraping by in online classes. I didn't want to go outside. I didn't want to talk to people. But rent wouldn't wait. Kotoha ran a hand through her black short hair. Thin fingers. At 170 centimeters tall, her slender frame was always buried in a loose white shirt and black slacks. Deep brown eyes, sharp. Usually I wore glasses, but right now they were off, sitting by the pillow. A rent payment notice came through on my phone. Kotoha thought for five seconds. Then I opened the HakoBell delivery registration page. There was only one reason. I needed money. That's it. I scrolled through the screen. A simple gig work job—transporting packages on an electric-assist bicycle. Not food delivery. Just packages. No need to talk to people. Just hand-offs. That's all it should be. I tapped the registration button. Kotoha remembered something from high school. In the classroom, my desk was positioned a little apart from everyone else's. I couldn't remember if someone had moved it or if it was always like that. But no one ever moved it back. That was fine. Being close to people meant trouble. They'd talk to me. I'd get dragged into things. I'd have to be considerate. It was exhausting. If I didn't have to go outside, I wouldn't. That was Kotoha's way of living. But I couldn't survive on 2,847 yen. The next morning, I opened the door to Corpo Mizuki Room 201. The autumn air slipped in. Kotoha frowned slightly. Outside. Real outside. One electric-assist bicycle leased from HakoBell was parked in the bike rack. Navy blue rear box with the HakoBell logo. Vehicle number C-017. This was my first time riding it. "It's huge." I said it quietly. I straddled the bicycle seat and opened the delivery app "HakoBell GO." The first job came through. Nakamachi Shopping Street, C Area. Short distance. 450 yen reward. I pedaled. The electric assist gently pushed my back. This isn't bad, Kotoha thought. My body moves. My head stays quiet. No need to talk to anyone. Three minutes' walk from Misono Station's south exit. When I reached the entrance to Nakamachi Shopping Street, my feet stopped slightly. There were people. On a weekday morning, quite a few. Housewives, elderly men, parents with elementary school kids. All kinds of people passing under the arcade roof. 380 meters long, 42 shops on both sides. Even knowing that, actually standing there felt a little oppressive. I stopped for three seconds. Then I pushed hard on the pedal and entered the shopping street. The first delivery destination was "Sakura-do." A traditional sweets shop. Three-meter storefront, old wooden sign reading "Sakura-do." Founded 1937 written small. Pretty old. I took the package from the rear box and stopped in front of the shop. I reached for the doorbell. …I tried to. My hand stopped. I didn't know why. I just froze in front of the doorbell for three seconds. (I just have to press it.) I knew that myself. I knew it, but my hand wouldn't move. This was always the first step of interacting with people, and for some reason I always hesitated a little. Ding-dong. I pressed it. After a while, an old man came out from behind the curtain. Thin white hair, only remaining at the back of his head. About 160 centimeters tall. Wearing work clothes, moving slowly, but his eyes were gentle. Gray irises. A deeply lined face. He looked at Kotoha and nodded lightly. He didn't speak. "HakoBell delivery. Your package." I said it by the manual. The old man—Fujimura Genichirou—signed and took the package. It should have ended there. But the old man raised his hand silently toward Kotoha. A gesture meaning "wait a moment." He disappeared back into the curtain. (What?) I stood by the bicycle. I could have left. But my feet wouldn't move. After about thirty seconds, Genichirou came back. He held a small bowl in his hand. Zenzai. Warm steam rose from it. Kotoha stared at it. "…Um, I'm on delivery, so…" I tried to refuse. But I didn't know how to refuse. While I was thinking about how to refuse, the bowl was already in my hands. Genichirou said nothing. He just nodded lightly and turned toward the shop interior. Kotoha sat down on the bench with the bowl in hand, having no choice. I took a sip. It was warm. Sweet. The soft flavor of red beans seeped into my chilled body. "…This is delicious." I didn't mean to say it out loud. It was just a thought. Genichirou, perhaps hearing from the back of the shop, nodded silently. That was all. Kotoha drank the zenzai for a while. I could hear the morning sounds of the shopping street. Somewhere a vegetable vendor was calling out. A bicycle passed. A cat meowed. (This isn't bad.) Honestly, that's what I thought. The outside air wasn't this bad, was it? I returned the bowl and opened HakoBell GO. I was about to check the next job. That's when it happened. Genichirou came out from the back of the shop. His face was different from before. His eyes were slightly downturned. A troubled expression. He wasn't holding anything. He stopped by the safe, then came out again. Stopped again. Kotoha followed his movements with a vacant gaze. Somehow, I was curious. I didn't want to be curious, but I was. "…Did you lose something?" Before I knew it, the words came out. Genichirou turned toward Kotoha slowly. There was a pause. "A recipe notebook. I kept it in the safe, but…it's gone." His voice was low. Quiet. But clearly troubled. "The police?" "I reported it. But they said the evidence was weak. They don't seem willing to pursue it actively." Genichirou said that much and went back to stand by the safe. Not searching for anything, just standing there. Kotoha looked at my phone. There was another job waiting. Not my problem. I had no reason to get involved in a case. I came here for a delivery job. I straddled the bicycle. I was about to pedal. My feet stopped. The warmth of that zenzai was still lingering around my stomach. That hand he'd silently extended wouldn't leave my head. "…I'll just look. Just for a moment." I said it quietly and got off the bicycle. I entered the shop. The workshop and storefront were connected. Confectionery equipment was set up. Bags of flour, sugar. The safe was against the wall. The door was a sliding door. One window. Kotoha put on my glasses. My eyes narrowed slightly. My head automatically began organizing information. The past 48 hours. People coming and going. Time of day. Package movement patterns. People who'd entered and exited Sakura-do in the last two days. Two days ago. A new confectioner planning to open in the shopping street came to greet Genichirou. That's what I'd heard from him. He'd shown the workshop briefly. His name was Kadowaki Ryuji. About 28 years old. Kotoha scanned the shop floor. A few grains of rice flour had fallen. Tiny. Most people wouldn't notice. I checked the brand of rice flour used in Sakura-do's workshop. I looked at the packaging on the shelf. Brand A. The grains on the floor were different in shape. The particles were finer. Brand B. Sakura-do didn't stock that. Kotoha took off my glasses. Twenty minutes had passed. I called Genichirou. The old man came out. Kotoha spoke slowly. "The man named Kadowaki who came yesterday. He had rice flour on his shoe soles that you don't use here. Brand B particles. Not the kind Sakura-do keeps in the workshop. Manufacturers using that brand are concentrated in Saitama. Factory lines are in the Saitama region, not the Tama area. There are several mid-sized manufacturers with mass production lines." I paused there. "That rice flour fell on your floor. When Kadowaki entered the workshop, it probably spilled from his shoe soles. He would have confirmed the safe's location while looking around. There was a time yesterday when you went out somewhere. That's when the recipe notebook disappeared." Genichirou answered quietly. "Yesterday at noon. I was at a union meeting for about two hours." "That's when. Kadowaki probably came then." Kotoha quickly searched on my phone. Saitama confectionery manufacturers. Mass production lines. Imitation of traditional recipes. Places that had been problematic recently. "Sakaki Food Industry. This is a manufacturer that's been acquiring old recipes through industrial espionage and distributing imitations over the past few years. Kadowaki is probably an employee there. He infiltrated by posing as a new confectioner opening a shop." I said it quietly but decisively. Genichirou was silent for a while. Kotoha wasn't looking at his face. My gaze was on the floor. I knew I was right. But at times like this, I didn't know how to look at someone's face. "…Thank you." Just one word. But somehow, something strange happened in Kotoha's chest. Gratitude had this much weight? I couldn't process it. I looked away. "You interrupted my delivery. …That's all." I mumbled and headed for the exit. It was an excuse. The zenzai was warm, so I'd just looked into it a little. That's how I'd think of it. But the moment I stepped out of the shop, everything changed. Somehow, people had gathered near the shopping street entrance. Had they heard? Or did someone tell them? "A detective! Amazing!" "The HakoBell delivery girl solved it!" "Genichirou, I'm so glad!" Kotoha quickly turned the bicycle around. Leave. Get out now. I pedaled. But there were people in front of me. "Wait a moment! What's your name?" Someone grabbed my arm from the right. There was a sign for Cosmos Cleaning. An older woman. Smiling. No malice. But she wouldn't let go of my arm. I looked left. The owner of Maruyo Butcher Shop was standing there. Big. Blocking the way. No malice. But I couldn't pass. "Let…let go… I mean, I'm just a delivery person…" "That's amazing! You solved it in twenty minutes!" "Is she a genius?" "And so young!" Before I knew it, I was in the center. A circle had formed. 360 degrees of people. There's no way to navigate an electric bicycle through a crowd. I'm done for. Kotoha tried to make a smile. It twisted. I think my face looked scary. But I didn't know how to fix it. My cheeks were stiff. My mouth wouldn't curve up. "She's cute!" "Are you nervous?" I'm not cute. I just want to escape. Standing rigid, Kotoha was surrounded for a while. This is what hell is like, I thought. You shouldn't have detective talents. I managed to get out about ten minutes later. Corpo Mizuki Room 201. I closed the door and pulled the futon over my head. "I'm never doing that again." I said it toward the pillow. Never. Not again. Just deliver. Hand over packages. That's it. No extra stuff. Being thanked by people is scary. Being surrounded is the worst. Outside is dangerous. My phone vibrated. A HakoBell GO notification. I opened it, and the screen was filled with C Area jobs. Around Nakamachi Shopping Street. 350 yen, 450 yen, 600 yen—. I needed living expenses. Rent wouldn't wait. I couldn't survive on 2,847 yen. "…This is the worst." I muttered it quietly. Curled up in the futon. The next morning. Kotoha straddled C-017 and completed the first job, then passed through the shopping street entrance. That's when I noticed the bulletin board. A handwritten poster was pinned to the cork board. Written in big letters. "A Detective Appears! Bring Your Problems to Kotoha from HakoBell Delivery!" Kotoha froze for three seconds. There was a photo. One someone had taken of me during delivery yesterday. My eyes