Not going to say anything?
An unsettling silence lingers after I finally caught up to her.
"What's your name? I have a feeling I've seen you somewhere before," I attempt to start the conversation.
She keeps staring at me, saying nothing. What a bizarre situation.
Does she even understand Japanese? Maybe she just arrived here and hasn't studied the language. In that case, I should try communicating in a language she might know.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" I ask in English.
Still no response. Could she not know English either? Being a Western exchange student, it should at least be an essential requirement.
I find myself trapped by her captivating gaze.
Now that I can focus on her eyes, I realize I've never seen a color like this.
The intimidation I'm experiencing is directly proportional to her beauty. Why do gorgeous girls like her and the president always seem to have such complicated personalities?
With no clues about her origin, I take a gamble and try my native language, German.
"What language do you speak?"
To my surprise, she responds, but it's far from ideal.
"Mistkerl."
What? Did she just insult me in my mother tongue? "Piece of trash," huh? That's not the kind of answer I expected, but at least I've confirmed she speaks German.
Seeing my shocked expression, she continues speaking.
"I understand Japanese perfectly."
Well, that makes it easy to reach the following conclusion.
"So you were just ignoring me? That's quite rude of you."
"You could say that. Now, what do you want from me?"
She doesn't even hesitate to admit it.
"If you understood what I said earlier, you know what I asked. So there's no need for me to repeat myself."
"I understand the language, but that doesn't mean I paid attention to what you said, Mistkerl," she replies impatiently, crossing her arms.
Is she going to keep using that insult? This kind of girl really irritates me. When people say I'm rude, do I sound like this? Maybe I'm getting a taste of my own medicine trying to talk to her.
"Fine if you weren't paying attention. But at least you could politely ask me to repeat the question."
"And why would I do that? To begin with, you're the one demanding answers from me. I don't owe you anything, let alone courtesy."
Come on, Johann, stay calm. Just ignore the minor details and repeat the question. It's the only way to get the information I'm looking for.
No, I can't overlook someone like her.
"I asked who you are because I had the impression we've met before. However, that doesn't seem to be the case. So, please clarify one thing: is your vocabulary limited to a single insult?"
"I can categorically confirm this is the first time you've met me. And I'm not using 'Mistkerl' as an insult—it's the name I've chosen for you."
Name me? Who does she think she is?
Still, it's probably better to remain as non-hostile as possible to her provocations. If I try to confront her directly, I'll lose badly and get no information. Staying cool in these situations is challenging. This is why I avoid social interactions—they never end well for me.
"I'm sorry, but I prefer to stick with the name my mother gave me, 'Johann.' So I'll pass on your affectionate nickname."
"It doesn't matter if you already have a name. To me, you're Mistkerl. It suits you perfectly, so I won't waste my brain cells remembering the name of another insignificant person," she pauses to sigh, then mutters, "who will probably die soon anyway."
I can't stand talking to this insufferable girl any longer. She doesn't stop with the insults even when I try to lighten the mood. Who does she think she is to act so superior?
Still, I sense I can learn something from her. She's by far the most suspicious figure in the school. So, I need to endure her sharp tongue a little longer to get the answers I'm looking for.
"All right, since you've taken it upon yourself to name me, at least tell me your name. Could you let me know who you are and where you're from?"
With an indifferent tone, she sits on a nearby bench and responds to my question.
"I'm not obligated to answer."
Tsk. Her innate charm isn't enough; she has to be stubborn, too. But I'm not surprised—I expected her to respond rudely. I won't get anywhere; she refuses to cooperate in any way.
"Look, you must be aware of your situation. You're probably at the top of the suspect list. Sooner or later, they'll come after you, and they might not be as friendly as I am. In that case, having an alibi wouldn't be a bad idea, would it?"
She crosses her legs, and only now do I notice she's wearing a skirt and tights. Yesterday, she was dressed like a male student. This change in style makes her look more feminine, but her way of speaking is the opposite. Her appearance and personality create a funny contrast—so beautiful yet rude that she seems like an ogre.
"Hmph. Why should I care about a potential nuisance from mosquitoes like you lot?"
Mosquitoes? From her perspective, that's all we are. At least it's a positive that we're not considered worms or worse.
"You may see us that way, but that doesn't refute what I said about your image. Have some awareness, and let me help you if you're really not the culprit."
"I don't need your help. Are you such an amateur detective that you'd believe what seems obvious? Of course, I may look suspicious for joining the school right when these incidents began. But what guarantees this isn't just 'post hoc ergo propter hoc'?" she responds, avoiding eye contact.
She has a point. Still, I shouldn't take my eyes off her yet. No one else in this school fits the profile of someone with supernatural powers better than this bizarre girl.
Even though she dismissed my help, I stay in place. As expected, she continues ignoring me.
The daylight fades further. With nightfall, the school's facade of false tranquility begins to show its true face. An unsettling and fearful atmosphere takes hold.
Typically, schools—or any busy places during the day—create an eerie feeling when abandoned at night. Under these conditions, the tension is ten times worse.
"You're not leaving until I answer, are you?" she finally speaks up.
"Just realized that? Sorry, but I'm not giving up that easily. I need to figure out the source of this feeling that's been bothering me since yesterday. It's a risk I'm taking, but I can use the game's rules to my advantage, which guarantees my safety."
"I had to chase after you like that—it was pathetic. I hope no one saw me in that situation. Obviously, I at least want to know who you are. I won't leave empty-handed after all that."
"Fine, I'll give in to your persistence. My name is Ailiss von Feuerstein, and like you, I'm from Germany. However, let me warn you: if you want any more information, you'll get the geometry of my fist on your face."
Did I ever say I was from Germany? I could be Swiss or Austrian. Did she recognize my accent from a single sentence? Anyway, her name doesn't ring a bell. Maybe we've never met, and this déjà vu is pure coincidence.
Still, I take her warning as my cue to leave.
"Don't worry, I'm not interested in your ID number, passport, or blood type. This short conversation was more than enough to learn about your toxic personality. I've realized it's time for me to go."
"I like to clarify when I don't want to interact with someone. But to call this a short conversation? This is probably the longest one I've ever had in my life. Seriously, leave now before my fists change their mind," she replies aggressively.
The way she's trying to kick me out must be similar to how I treated Shou earlier. Now I can see it's not very pleasant to hear.
"When you don't want to?" I ask. "Have you ever been interested in interacting with others?"
"Of course. But in all cases, it was more with my fists and feet than through argument."
I'm not surprised by her response—I could already deduce that was her only form of socializing. In this way, we're even somewhat alike.
The sun has set, and the probable hour for the killer to act draws nearer. Honestly, I'm not sure if keeping an eye on her longer is a risk worth taking. Either way, I'll lose. If she is the killer, I'll be in trouble, and if she isn't, I'll get to know the "geometry of her fist."
"Ailiss, right? If my bias is wrong, be careful. It would be tragic if you died just after arriving in this country."
Despite all our differences, I can't help but feel a bit of sympathy for her. Perhaps someone seen as a jerk can appreciate someone even jerkier.
I hope I'm wrong about her. It would be unpleasant to have her as an enemy.
"It's not me who needs advice. The killer should be more careful around me than I should be around him."
Indeed, a sheep-hunting wolf would never face a lion.
"You're right; I was foolish to assume otherwise. If I were in his position, you'd be the last on my list of targets. Besides, I wouldn't recommend staying out here too late. It gets really cold at night, and you might not want to deal with the student council."
She doesn't respond anymore. Her quota of words must be exhausted; from now on, she'll just ignore me.
With that, I visually bid her farewell and start walking back toward the main building, our current dormitory.
That girl was even more challenging to deal with than I imagined. What strange behavior... Yet, at the same time... "fun"? It was a funny experience. As much as she irritated me, it was somewhat enjoyable. It's hard to put into words.
I can't recall ever meeting her in Europe, but at the same time, I feel like I was talking to an old acquaintance.
Still, she isn't the only one acting so unusually. This keeps hammering in my mind... Has everyone's fear of murder faded so quickly? Wouldn't such an event be traumatic for a group of teenagers?
8:58 PM
I used to enjoy bedtime so much, but now, an overwhelming anxiety is disturbing me. It feels so strange.
I never cared whether I'd wake up the next day or not. Honestly, I often preferred not waking up. But tonight, a different feeling accompanies me—a sense of duty? Is there something I need to accomplish? Perhaps this collective madness is beginning to infect me, too.
As I try to fall asleep, lost in my thoughts, the others are again complaining about the curfew.
"Man, I wish I were in Haruki's dorm. Takashi keeps making us go to bed earlier every night," Shou complains.
"It's natural, isn't it? With a murder last night, it'd be strange if we were allowed to roam around late at night."
"For once, I agree with you, Shoucchi. I can't even read my manga in the dark," Manabu says, shaking a manga in his hands.
Honestly, this is Takashi's only redeeming quality. I think we both share these old-man habits.
"What can we do? He's Kaichou's watchdog, doing everything she says. In the end, he's probably enforcing her orders two hours early," Shou adds.
The dormitory door opens just as everyone is gossiping about our monitor. Unfortunately for them, the person entering is the target of their conversation.
"All right! Is everyone ready?" he says, pretending not to notice he was being talked about.
Caught off guard, everyone stares at him, unsure how to respond.
"As I've informed you before, you're not allowed to leave the room until morning to prevent another incident and eliminate suspicion. I'll stand guard at the door," he explains. "Any questions?"
"What if we need to use the bathroom or get water?" a student asks.
"Didn't you prepare a water bottle? At least without drinking, you'll last longer without needing the bathroom. As I said, only in the morning."
The others' displeasure is evident in their facial expressions.
"Damn, I forgot to grab water from the fountain, all because you rushed us back to the dormitory," Shou whispers to me.
"I didn't ask you to follow me," I reply.
Day 3
7:15 AM
Again...
There was no way around it. It happened again!
We woke up to discover several people had died overnight. Takashi's plan was useless; the students didn't even have to leave the dormitory to be murdered.
This makes me think the killer is always a step ahead of the student council. The information about the students' restricted mobility must have reached them somehow, and they used it to their advantage.
The pale bodies of five girls and six boys were found. Once again, it was confirmed the cause of death was poisoning.