A passage from that translated book was still settling at the bottom of his chest. "The roads not taken do not disappear. They seep into the path you chose in another form." Shun had read that yesterday. But this morning, while changing into his uniform, and even when buying a steamed bun at the school store during lunch—a specialty of Hozumi Gaoka High School, one hundred fifty yen—the words remained somewhere in his stomach. Not digested, yet not obstructing either. Simply there. The after-school hours at Hozumi Gaoka High School begin when the building's shadow stretches diagonally long across the ground. The April light is a yellow close to orange, and when you exit the entrance, a slightly cool wind blows from the direction of the hills. Shun stopped in front of the school gate. Holding both straps of his bag, feeling the flow of students at the edge of his vision, he stood motionless. He was about to call out to Akari. About the third story of Kurezomedoji. But the words stopped one step before taking shape in his mouth. It wasn't that he was trying to say anything difficult. It was just that breaking this silence was, for Shun, difficult every single time. Akari came out through the gate. Her pale chestnut-colored medium-length hair swayed in the evening light, and she walked while adjusting her bag strap on her right shoulder. Her emerald green eyes naturally turned toward Shun—and in that instant when Shun opened his mouth to say something, Akari leaned her weight forward slightly. She might have noticed. That Shun was standing there trying to say something. That half-beat was crushed. "I've been waiting for you both! Man, I thought there'd be anman left at the store, but they were all gone" The voice cut in from diagonally behind. It was Aki. With his uniform shirt unbuttoned to the second button and his necktie loosely tied, he walked between the two of them with the casual ease of someone strolling through his own home hallway. Tall, with a well-defined jawline, his expression always carrying a certain composure—but to Shun's eyes, that composure seemed slightly calculated. "We weren't waiting" "Huh, was Shun about to say something?" Akari turned her gaze to Shun. Shun was about to say "No, nothing," but paused for a moment. "...It's about Kurezomedoji" "Oh, that mysterious café?" Aki's eyes lit up. Not the face of someone who'd found prey. But the expression of someone who'd found a topic they could engage with—a slightly more animated look. "A mysterious café? Now I'm curious" "Um, well—" Akari paused, as if choosing her words carefully. Shun read the subtle shift in her expression—the look of someone thinking "I shouldn't have said that." But it was already too late. "I'm coming too. I won't be in the way" "You say you won't be in the way while already being in the way" "I'm not in the way! I'm just walking with you. I'll guide you" "You don't know the way, so you can't guide us" "Then you two can guide me, right?" Akari laughed a little beside him. "Isn't that logic kind of broken?" "I don't sweat the details" Shun tried to object. But the tempo of the conversation between Aki and Akari moved ahead of him, and before he knew it, the three of them were walking out through the gate. Shun gripped his bag strap again, thinking "Wait, when did this happen," but he'd already missed the moment to say it aloud. --- Twelve minutes from the south exit, when you turn into the narrow alleyways of the old town, the air changes. Kurezomedoji—the dye-dyeing alley—is less than two meters wide. Wooden buildings that seem unchanged since the early Showa period line both sides, the stone pavement is slightly uneven, and when the evening light slants in, the shadows are deep. Through the latticed window of Kaiten-do—an antique shop—you can see old candlesticks lined up. Next to it, the scent of sweet chestnuts drifts from the eaves of the wagashi shop "Yuitsuki." The heavy, nostalgic smell of steamed yokan. Akari's nose twitched for a moment, and she murmured "That smells nice." Shun agreed. "This place looks like a period drama" "It's the old town of Hozumi Gaoka. You can get here in about twelve minutes from the station" "You know a lot" "I've just walked here" Aki laughed wryly. Akari was suppressing a small laugh. The dead end was approaching. Shun could see the sign hand-carved into a copper plate. The characters "=Le Double=" glowed faintly as the twilight caught the surface of the copper, which had oxidized to a flax color. Akari was seeing the same thing—Shun could tell by the way she slowed her pace. Aki stopped. "...Wait, here?" Aki was looking at the wall at the dead end. Not at the sign, but at the wall itself. "Don't you see the door?" "There's nothing here. It's just a wall" Aki looked at the two of them with a confused expression. As if wondering if he was being teased. A slightly probing gaze. But neither Shun nor Akari was smiling. That seriousness changed Aki's expression for just a moment. Silence fell over the alley. From the direction of Kaiten-do, someone closed the hinge of a latticed window. That was all that could be heard. The door opened from the inside. Lizette appeared. Her flax-colored long hair was loosely tied back, white blouse and apron. Her jade-green eyes looked at the three of them in turn—at Shun, at Akari, at Aki. "Welcome to you two" Her voice was calm. But within that calmness, there was not a single ripple of emotion. Lizette's gaze shifted slightly toward Aki. Her expression didn't change. "I don't think it's a matter of resolve. I believe you simply don't yet know, for yourself, why you would drink here" Aki laughed. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying I can't come in?" "I cannot invite someone who cannot see the door" "So like, next time I come back, I'll be able to see it?" "When you are ready, the door will be visible" With just those words, Lizette turned her gaze to Shun and Akari. "Please" Shun listened to the tone of Aki's laughter. It was light, Aki's usual way of laughing. The kind of bright, piercing tone that suggested he'd say "don't worry about it." But in that very last instant of the laugh, the air dried out. Just for a moment, then it returned. But it was definitely there. Something that couldn't be put into words remained as a snag in Shun's chest. "Go ahead. I'll wait here" Aki leaned against the wall. Arms crossed, standing with ease. A perfectly composed posture—but that stability seemed slightly unnatural. As if his body needed the wall. Shun felt that, and entered the café with Akari. --- The first-floor hall of Le Double was something Shun was always slightly surprised by. The smallness of the building from outside didn't match the spaciousness within. Eight seats at the counter, four tables. Lantern-style indirect lighting softly illuminated the walls. Seven clocks hung on the wall, each moving their hands at different speeds—every time Shun looked at them, he felt a slight sense of vertigo. He couldn't tell which one showed the correct time. Maybe they were all correct. The only sounds were the low rotation of the coffee mill and the seven second hands. Shun and Akari sat side by side at the counter. The sensation of someone sitting next to you changes completely depending on the distance. Right now, there was about forty centimeters between Shun and Akari—a distance that was neither close nor far, impossible to judge. Lizette stood behind the counter. She was preparing coffee. Her movements were efficient, her gaze lowered to her hands, not looking at them. But Shun thought the way she carried herself felt strange. Not looking, yet there was a faint sense of being watched. "Are you drinking today?" Akari spoke in a small voice. "I think I'll pass today" "Me too" Akari paused for a moment. "What I saw last time is still in my chest. I don't want to overwrite it somehow" Shun nodded. When you drink the temporal layer liquid—the liquid that seeps from the branching points of possibility mixed into the coffee—you can re-experience the scenes of the life you didn't choose. But the aftertaste lingers longer than expected. Shun didn't know what Akari had seen in the second story. But he understood the weight of the words "still in my chest." Both of them were silent. It was strangely natural. The seven clocks ticked in their own rhythms. The coffee mill hummed low. The light from outside slipped through the gap in the door, drawing a single line on the stone pavement. Suddenly, Akari spoke. "Aki-kun is... kind of weird today, don't you think?" "Yeah" Akari turned toward Shun. Just "yeah." Yet there was something in that single syllable—Akari's expression shifted slightly. A face trying to receive something, a little cautious. (So this is how this person responds) Akari might have thought something like that. Shun didn't know. But he could feel that Akari was trying to grasp the weight of that "yeah." That very change felt slightly strange to him. Someone was trying to receive a single sound from his sparse words. As they were leaving, Lizette spoke to Shun. "The proprietor of Gakuro—the used bookstore on Kurezomedoji—may know what you wish to know" Without being asked. Shun turned back slightly, but Lizette had already returned her gaze to her cup. Her jade eyes were on her work, not on Shun. There was a quietness that said "I have nothing more to say." --- Leaving Aki in the alley, Shun headed to Gakuro alone. Akari said "I'll wait outside" and sat on a bench by the eaves of Yuitsuki. The chestnut scent still lingered. When Shun pushed open the door to Gakuro, a bell chimed once. It was dim. The walls were lined with bookshelves, but many of the books had no author names or titles on their spines. Not because the text had worn away, but as if nothing had been written there from the start. More than half the books were like this. The proprietor, Miyauchi Kiriko, was examining a book at the back of the counter. Forty-five years old, black-framed glasses, short black hair. The impression of being taciturn came not from her features, but from how she blended into the quiet of this space, Shun thought. Since entering, Miyauchi had barely looked up. Shun hesitated for a moment, then took a coaster from his uniform's inner pocket. A circular paper disc with a copper-colored emblem engraved on it. He'd carried it since the first day he went to Le Double. He placed the coaster on the edge of the counter. Miyauchi's hands stopped. Slowly, she looked up. Her eyes behind the glasses saw the coaster. Then she saw Shun. She said nothing. Her hand reached below the counter. The sound of a drawer opening. A thin book was placed before Shun. He could tell it was a translation from the Taisho period. The paper had turned brown with age, and the edges were slightly wavy. The title was printed vertically, but the characters were old and partially illegible. A book about human choice and possibility—he understood this after turning the cover and reading the first few lines. Miyauchi looked down again, returning her gaze to her own book. Shun turned the pages. There was only one bookmark—a single slip of paper. Handwritten characters, the ink slightly smudged. "The roads not taken do not disappear. They seep into the path you chose in another form." Shun read that passage three times. Then he looked up and asked Miyauchi, "How much is this?" Miyauchi shook her head. No payment was necessary. "Thank you" His voice was slightly hoarse. He thought he wasn't used to expressing gratitude. He was about to leave when it happened. From between the books wedged at the edge of a shelf, a single photocopy folded into A4 size peeked out. It barely grazed his field of vision, but the printed text caught his eye. "Dojima Genichiro・Temporal Layer Applied Research Society Bulletin—