The after-school air felt heavier than usual. Shun left the classroom while listening to his friends' conversation from diagonally behind them. It was about tomorrow's career counseling. Some were heading to advanced schools, others aiming for recommendations. Everyone had something to say, speaking eagerly about their futures. "I've already decided," Takao said. "Business school. I'm going to take over the family business." "That's great. Having a goal and all," Misaki replied. "I still don't know where to go..." In the midst of that circle of conversation, Shun only offered agreement. "I see." "Really?" Words that weren't his own, words anyone might say. He could respond sensitively to others' emotions——he noticed the hesitation seeping through Misaki's words about her future, sensed the faint anxiety lurking behind Takao's confidence——yet he couldn't see anything inside himself at all. It was like the sensation of a blank white sheet of paper. He parted ways with his friends at the station. Takao headed to cram school, Misaki to her part-time job. Shun raised his hand and said "see you," but he didn't clearly know where he was going. His feet, moving of their own accord, took him not along his usual route home but out through the south exit. It was a nameless impulse to step just slightly outside the boundaries of his daily life. About twelve minutes' walk from the south exit, the scenery began to change. Beyond the row of new commercial facilities, he entered a district dense with old buildings. So Hozumi Gaoka has a place like this too, Shun thought, and found himself drawn into a narrow alley——less than two meters wide——called Kuresomu Alley. The latticed window of an antique shop. The sweet scent of chestnuts drifting from a Japanese confectionery store. The silent presence of an old bookshop. The texture of the old town district stimulated Shun's observant eye again and again. The layers of time living in this alley touched his senses. The smell of the Showa era. The air of times before that. The traces of breath left by those who lived there. Shun's internal monologue carried more density than usual. At the end of the alley, he found it. A sign hand-carved into a copper plate. Cafe Beyond Time and Space = Le Double =. The letters were old, readable only by the slanting light of dusk. In daytime light, he would never have noticed this sign. Shun paused for a moment before the door. There was no rational reason to push forward. No menu, no price list visible. He knew nothing about what kind of shop this was. Normally, he would pass by. But Shun's hand moved. He gripped the worn doorknob and pushed. Karan kara. The sound of the door chime. The interior was far more spacious than the exterior suggested. Eight counter seats. Four tables. The lighting was indirect——only warm, lantern-like light filled the space. Seven clocks hung on the wall, each moving its hands at a different speed. One ticked at normal speed, one moved extremely slowly, one slightly faster. Time itself was not uniform here. There was no background music. Only the sound of clock ticking. The sound of a coffee mill. Silence. A woman stood behind the counter. She had flax-colored hair loosely gathered at the back. Sharp, jade-colored eyes. A white blouse and apron. Her height was around 165 centimeters, slender but with a bearing that suggested an inner core. If judged by appearance, she seemed to be in her late twenties. Yet her expression held a depth that transcended age. An atmosphere as if bearing a long history. A serene presence. Lizette looked at Shun. In her eyes was no surprise, but rather the color of confirming something long awaited. "You've come again." Those words froze Shun. "Ah, no——" Shun started to say. "This is my first time here." Lizette smiled faintly. Her expression didn't change. Only the depths of her eyes seemed to glow slightly. "Is that so." With just those words, Lizette began preparing coffee. The sound of beans grinding in the mill. The sound of water being poured. Movements that were almost ritualistic, deliberate. Shun sat at the counter. His gaze wandered, searching for a menu. Seven clocks on the wall. That was all. Nothing else was posted. "Um... do you have a menu?" Lizette looked at Shun. "I'll serve you what you need today." "Does that mean... I can't choose?" At Shun's vacant question, Lizette's lips curved upward. A smile. "That's right." This small exchange relaxed the tense atmosphere for a moment. Shun instinctively understood that this woman was not dangerous. Rather——she was someone who gently welcomed those seeking something in their mundane daily lives. A white porcelain cup was placed on the counter. Steam rose from it. Black coffee. But on its surface, the faintest amber fluorescence floated. Lizette opened her mouth. Her voice was calm and carried weight. "Here, you can drink both the path you didn't choose and the paths you have chosen, simultaneously." Shun couldn't understand what she was saying. But the aroma of the cup tickled his nostrils. A good smell. Something nostalgic, yet as if smelling it for the first time. Lizette's eyes fixed on Shun. What was reflected in those eyes was——a boy who couldn't become anyone. A boy who had kept failing while trying to become someone. There was a power of silence there, as if seeing through such a person. Without even realizing it, Shun brought the cup to his lips. The first sip. The taste of coffee spread across his tongue. Bitter. But a good bitterness. A deep, sediment-like bitterness of time. And beyond that, something else—— His vision changed. Suddenly, Shun was somewhere else. On a stage. Stage lights. A microphone. Hundreds of gazes. The school festival. His class's school festival project——a class presentation. But standing on the stage was Shun. Or rather—— "Thank you all very much." That voice wasn't Shun's. Low, resonant. Clear. Without hesitation. The hand gripping the microphone didn't waver. The expression of the "other Shun" bathed in lights held confidence. A smile. "In the course of our high school life so far, what we've learned is——" Words flowed without stagnation. The audience was captivated. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the "Shun" on stage. The weight of those gazes. That expectation. That trust. "——that a person can do nothing alone. But with someone, I think we can do anything." Voices of support rose from the class. Applause. Cheers. The face of the "Shun" on stage was filled with joy. This was the life he hadn't chosen. There existed a "Shun" who could weave words before people so easily, so naturally. The vicarious experience lasted perhaps fifteen to thirty minutes. He couldn't say for certain. His sense of time had been destroyed. The moment the vicarious experience ended, Shun returned to reality. The counter. The white porcelain cup. His own hand. Lizette. But something had broken. The dam of emotion. Not tears, not anger, but something nameless overflowed from his chest. Exhaustion. Regret. Envy. Fear. A deep, profound remorse for a life he could absolutely never reach. Shun collapsed onto the counter. His back trembled. Lizette said nothing. She only placed a glass of water. That silent care held a meaning heavier than words. Minutes passed. Shun lifted his face. His eyes were red. His cheeks were wet. Lizette spoke quietly while wiping the counter, her voice unchanged and calm. "What do you think you wanted to see just now?" Shun tried to answer, but words wouldn't come. "A version of yourself who could give speeches well? A confident version of yourself? A version of yourself who could weave words before people?" Each seemed right, yet each seemed wrong. Shun didn't know what he truly wanted to see. Lizette didn't rush for an answer. She simply continued wiping the counter, then said: "When you come next time, think about it a little." When Shun asked about the price, Lizette answered immediately. "Five hundred yen." Shun took a five-hundred-yen coin from his wallet. Clink, clink——he placed it on the counter. "...Is it the same price for everyone else?" Lizette answered only with "No." That single word remained as a hook in his mind. What was the pricing standard for this shop? What determined the price? Shun couldn't press further. He simply left the cafe. When he emerged onto Kuresomu Alley, the evening darkness had deepened. The copper plate sign was already dissolved into the dusk, invisible. Even the location of the entrance was uncertain. Yet something touched his fingers in his pocket. A circular coaster. A copper-colored crest was engraved on it. He had no memory of Lizette handing it to him, yet it was certainly there. Shun held the coaster up to the light, trying to see it. In the yellow light of the streetlamp, it looked like nothing more than a piece of paper. Still, he couldn't bring himself to discard it, returning it to his uniform pocket. After arriving home, he ate dinner. His family's voices sounded distant. "How was today?" his mother asked. "Normal," Shun answered. The same conversation as always. The same movements as always. Yet—— The sensation of something stirring somewhere in his chest wouldn't disappear. It wasn't change, but the premonition of change. Not destruction, but preparation for destruction. Not choice, but the awakening to choice. Shun returned to his room. He took out the coaster from his pocket. In the dark room, it glowed faintly amber. In the empty shop of Le Double, Lizette stood at the entrance to the corridor. She gazed at the seven doors in order. Six remained silent, but the foremost door——the fourth door that would come to be called the Red of Resolve——trembled faintly, almost imperceptibly, barely perceptibly. Lizette spoke to herself. Her voice held no surprise, no concern. Only the tone of confirmation carrying the weight of long years. "The fourth door has chosen another person." Those words were absorbed into the silence of the night. The cafe breathed quietly. The seven doors, the clocks——all waited in silence for the next visitor.