Three days had passed since he sent the reply. In that time, Kunimi Akira had opened and closed his smartphone countless times. The response from the unknown account had arrived the next morning. The message was brief. "July 28th, 3:00 PM. In front of Shiratorizawa Academy's main gate. Come alone." A map link was attached. (Go or not go?) For three days, that question circled endlessly in his mind. He didn't know who the sender was. It could be a trap. It could be nothing but a prank. But the weight of that message—the heaviness of that single line, "Haven't you ever thought something was strange about Shiratorizawa's sports recommendations?"—kept Kunimi from dismissing it. And now, Kunimi Akira swayed inside a southbound car on the Sendai Subway Nanboku Line. A train heading to Izumi Chuo. From Sendai Station, moving northward, the scenery beyond the windows transformed—from city streets to residential neighborhoods, from neighborhoods to the green of rolling hills. The late-Ju