That's wrong, he thought. He understood it in his head. And yet — why did his chest ache so fiercely? Kudou Shinichi awoke to the pale morning light filtering through his eyelids. (Where…) He couldn't grasp the situation right away. An unfamiliar pattern on the ceiling. A faint floral scent that wasn't from his own room. And a soft weight resting on his chest. He lowered his gaze. Long silver-gray hair spread across the white sheets. Translucent, pale skin. A steady, peaceful breathing in sleep. As he took in the sight of her clinging to him as she slept, everything from the night before surged back into his mind with vivid clarity. The room's indirect lighting had gone out, and only the dim glow seeping through the window illuminated her defenseless sleeping face. Her usual mask of composure had completely fallen away, leaving just the face of a girl her own age. (Miyano Shiho…) He murmured her name in his heart. In that moment, something burst deep in his chest. This wasn't mere trust in a comrade. It wasn't pity, much less a sense of obligation. He didn't want anyone else to see her like this. He didn't want to hand her over to anyone. He wanted her for himself — he could feel a protective urge, almost a dark possessiveness, swirling inside him. (I… to her…) For the first time, he recognized it clearly. The feelings he had been pretending not to see all this time took on a name and a shape, settling into his heart. I was in love with Miyano Shiho. In the romantic sense. The moment he thought that, another regret crossed his mind. Ran's face flickered through his thoughts for an instant. But even that now seemed to pale before the presence right in front of him. He thought himself unspeakably cruel, hopelessly selfish. And yet, this feeling could no longer be overturned. Shinichi gently reached out and twined a lock of Shiho's hair around his finger. It was fine and soft, like silk thread. His fingertips trembled, just a little. (What am I supposed to do?) No answer came. Only the ego that refused to let go of this warmth occupied his heart. ──── Shiho's long eyelashes quivered. Slowly, those pale blue eyes, clear as ice, opened. Still drowsy, it took a few seconds for them to focus. And then, the moment they met Shinichi's — her eyes flew wide open. "…Huh?" Her voice was hoarse, trembling with surprise and awkwardness. Shiho hurriedly tried to sit up, but Shinichi's arm held her back. Her delicate shoulders tensed. "[whispers]…Morning." Shinichi spoke as gently as he could. Shiho froze for a moment, then let out a small sigh as if resigning herself, lowering her face. Her long bangs hid her expression. "[sad]…Please forget about yesterday." The words were far too abrupt. "[scared]Last night was just… my selfishness. So…" Shiho's voice grew smaller with every word she wove. She clutched the sheets tightly, looking as if she might vanish at any moment. "[sad]You have Ran-san. I… I never had the right to get in the way in the first place." She was right. His mind understood that. Socially speaking, her argument was correct. But. "That doesn't matter, does it?" The words that came out of Shinichi's mouth were so raw with emotion that even he was surprised. "[angry]Whatever you think, I'm not leaving you alone. Last night wasn't pity or obligation. I'm way past that." He grabbed Shiho's shoulders firmly and turned her to face him. For the first time since they'd met, he was laying his emotions bare in front of her. "[serious]It has to be you. …Do you understand? This isn't something I say to just anyone." Shiho's pale blue eyes grew wet and wavered violently. "[crying]…That's not fair." Her voice was a mixture of tears, anger, and a faint trace of happiness. "[crying]You just want to push your own sense of justice, don't you? By saving me, you're trying to ease your own guilt…" Shinichi sealed her words with his lips. Soft, and faintly warm. A shorter, more forceful kiss than the ones they had exchanged so many times the night before. When he pulled his face back, Shiho was frozen, her eyes perfectly round. "[gentle]No." Shinichi wiped her tears away with his thumb and said it again. "[gentle]I want you for my own selfish reasons. That's how I really feel, right now." Shiho stared at Shinichi's face for a long moment. Then, as if giving in, she let the tension drain from her body. Her cheeks were faintly flushed. "[whispers]…You really are an idiot. You never listen to anyone to the end — an unbelievable egomaniac." It was, in her own way, the greatest attempt to hide her embarrassment — and, unmistakably, an affirmation. ──── A little while later, sounds came from downstairs. It seemed Agasa Hiroshi was heading out for his morning shopping. A distant, absent-minded "I'm off—" reached them, followed by the sound of the front door closing. The two of them glanced at each other, then awkwardly averted their eyes. It was fortunate that the professor hadn't noticed them. "[gentle]…Should I make something? I'm hungry." When Shinichi spoke, Shiho looked surprised. "[surprised]You can cook?" "[sarcastic]Well, sort of. I can at least make a decent cup of coffee." Like accomplices piling up their sins, the two of them quietly moved to the kitchen. The Agasa residence's kitchen was equipped with the latest appliances, a hobby of the professor's, but they were well-worn from use. Shinichi set up the coffee dripper with practiced hands and put the kettle on the stove. The fragrant aroma of coffee filled the room. "I'll help with the eggs." "[cold]No, thank you. Even I can manage this much…" Shiho held an egg in one hand with clumsy movements and tapped it against the edge of the frying pan. But perhaps she used too much force — with a splat, the egg collapsed into a mess. Shell fragments fell inside. "…" Shiho stared at the egg, pitifully ruined in the pan, and froze, turning red. In that moment, she wasn't the usual cool-headed scientist — just an awkward girl. "[laughing]…Pfft." Shinichi couldn't help but burst out laughing. "[angry]Don't laugh!" "[laughing]Sorry. But it's the first time I've seen you mess up like that." Still laughing, Shinichi took the cooking chopsticks from Shiho's hand and carefully removed the shell fragments. This casual exchange made him impossibly happy. (If only mornings like this could last forever.) He meant it from the bottom of his heart. A warmth of daily life, different from the passion of the night. The slightly burnt sunny-side-up eggs they'd made together, and the strong coffee. "[gentle]Thank you for the meal." Shiho's lips softened into a faint smile as well. Though shadows of hesitation and anxiety still lurked in that smile, it was undeniably there. ──── That was when it happened. Bzzz. Shinichi's smartphone, sitting on the table, began to vibrate with mechanical indifference. Looking at the screen, Shinichi's heart gave a single, violent throb. "Mouri Ran." Those two characters floated coldly on the LCD display. The atmosphere between them froze in an instant. The peaceful time in the kitchen just moments ago vanished as if it had been an illusion. Shinichi couldn't move. He couldn't lift a single finger. The call continued on the screen. The vibration felt as if it were condemning his sins. (I have to answer. But…) He couldn't bring himself to look at Shiho beside him. After a long silence, Shiho's slender fingers suddenly reached out and took the phone from Shinichi's hand. "[gentle]…Please, answer it." She said it with a smile. It was the most perfect, and the most painfully fragile, smile he had ever seen. "[gentle]It's all right. I'm… fine now. So, Shinichi-san, you should go back to where you belong…" The moment her finger moved toward the answer button — Shinichi reflexively grabbed her hand and stopped it. That hand was trembling faintly, and cold as ice. Shiho looked surprised for an instant, but then she smiled, sadly. "[whispers]…I'm sorry. I couldn't do it after all." She apologized in a small voice, gently pulled her hand free from Shinichi's, rejected the call, and placed the phone face-down on the table. Then, as if fleeing, she left the kitchen. Footsteps quietly climbing the stairs to the second floor. Eventually, the sound of a door closing — thud — echoed, jarringly loud. Shinichi stood rooted to the spot for a long while. His legs felt as heavy as stone. Steam still rose from the coffee on the table. Finally, dragging his leaden feet, he went upstairs. Shinichi stopped in front of Shiho's room. From inside, he could faintly hear Shiho's sobbing — a voice crying to no one who could hear. It was the first time she had shown him a scream from the very depths of her heart. Shinichi could do nothing but stand there before that door. As if an invisible wall were blocking his way. Just how much he was hurting her. That fact became a heavy stake driven through his chest, paralyzing his body. The smartphone no longer vibrated. Only her small, weeping voice echoed on and on, endlessly, through the quiet morning in Beika Town.