Chapter 51

However, we didn't rush in. It simply wasn't a big deal to us.

We could already guess why Detective Chikage had let out that awful scream.

Just inside the entrance to Room 105 were several insect cages. More precisely, the cause lay with the ones sitting perfectly still and the ones writhing inside.

I slipped past Detective Chikage, who had collapsed on the entryway floor with her face gone ghost-white, and deliberately praised the insects inside.

"The tarantula and this striped cockroach are cute, aren't they. The motionless tarantula might be asleep... The yellow-and-black stripes are adorable. Oh, what's this cockroach called again?"

The President darted in from the side and explained the cockroach in the cage.

"Grandma says this is an Argentine forest cockroach. It's food for the tarantula."

"Huh..."

Detective Chikage, trembling at our conversation, fired off a question.

"H-How can you two... dote on that spider and cockroach!?"

The tarantula's jet-black look, its fluffy body, those eight gallant legs. And the cockroach's surprisingly glossy black shine.

When the President had summoned me here, I'd found them a little creepy at first. Once you get used to them, though, they're darling. What a shame she can't see it.

I asked Detective Chikage, "You can look at corpses, so why not bugs?"

"Blood and gore are fine, but bugs are a no-go."

"No way. If they show up in my social feeds, I block them instantly! This is the one line I can't cross!"

"I don't get it... So what do you do when a case involves bugs?"

"I turn it down, of course! Now I get why no one would take this request. It's bug-related, isn't it!? Detective! What do detectives have to do with bugs...!?"

Terrified there might be more bugs deeper inside, she was beyond listening. She only shook her head frantically at the President's grandmother's beckoning, frozen in place.

I spoke sternly.

"Whatever the reason, you really shouldn't sit down in someone's entryway. Accept the request and head inside, or refuse and go home—at least do that much."

"Idiot! That's not it! M-My legs gave out—c-can't stand! I'm not saying I don't want to leave!"

Even if she tries acting tsundere, it's a problem. Lines like "It's not like I like you or anything!" only leave me bewildered.

I wanted to say, "Look, she's a sweet old lady now, but soon she'll start raging like an Asura," but after shocking Detective Chikage this much, knocking her out would be trouble, so I swallowed my words.

The President offered to help her deeper inside, but Detective Chikage tried to stand. "Right now, being touched by a boy is a bit... I-I'll move myself... Ah," she said, then slid along the shoebox and froze. Another glimpse of the tarantula had apparently shut her brain down.

You can't move what you're not allowed to touch.

"Goodness, kids these days have weaker legs and backs than I thought. You've got to move around outside more."

The President's grandmother spoke as if it were someone else's problem. She probably had no idea the tarantula was what made Detective Chikage scream and nearly faint.

Left with no choice, I went to the President's grandmother.

"...It seems she's also thrown out her back, so I'll relay the message for her."

"I'd appreciate that. Here, look at this."

The President and I knelt formally on the tatami and faced the low table. Sipping hot, bitter tea, we leaned over the letter on the table.

It had been carefully printed in black on white paper with a word processor.

"Something terrible will happen. I warn you again. Something terrible will happen. If you remove the paper-wasp nest that appeared next to Room 101, I will inflict a terrible fate on you using the insect-curse spoken of since ancient times. It won't matter if you tell the police."

A truly bizarre message.

I picked it up to check. The back only said "To the Manager." Of course, no sender's name appeared anywhere.

Threatening us just to keep us from removing a wasp nest—extremely rare.

Apparently nothing happens if we comply with the demand. I asked her what she'd chosen to do.

"So, did you get rid of the wasps?"

"Yes. While the residents were out, I had the city people come. They're dangerous, right? Our kid could be attacked, and some residents were begging me to kill the wasps quickly."

"Our kid... you mean the tarantula?"

"Yes, Taran-chan!"

Next to me, the President was doing a bad impression of some unknown Taro: "I smashed the wasp nest! Wasps are scary!" But that's beside the point.

She'd already defied the culprit's demand. In other words, whatever was threatened would now occur.

While listening to the President's grandmother, there was something I wanted to know.

"Who told you to kill the wasps?"

At that, she started to stand up with a grunt. The President stopped her: "Grandma, I'll draw it—stay seated," and began sketching the apartment layout on the back of the threat letter with a pen from his pocket.

"That's important evidence! Hey, I was just thinking how nice you are to your grandma—what are you doing!?"

"No way this letter holds any clues. Right, Grandma? You already showed this around the whole apartment, didn't you?"

She nodded at the President's words. If there were fingerprints, they'd be evidence. This time that approach wouldn't solve it.

While voicing my thoughts, I checked the sketch.

"So Grandma tried to solve it herself... And the one who told you to kill the wasps was—"

"The far left. A young man named Mr. Kamakiri living in Room 201. He's been stung in the nearby woods before."

"I see. Anaphylactic shock..."

Just as I was wrapping up, the President, looking a bit clueless, pursed his lips and shot me a demanding stare, so I explained.

"After a second sting, a severe allergic reaction can occur. Not always fatal, but still very dangerous..."

"Got it. So Kamakiri was in real danger if Grandma didn't act."

"But to kill the wasps for that...? Hmm... Then someone who holds a grudge against Mr. Kamakiri..."

"No, there are others who might threaten us besides anyone who hates Kamakiri..."

"Huh?"

I first thought it was a joke. But the President's grave face and his quick check with his grandmother—"Right?"—made it clear he was serious.

Who on earth could be the potential blackmailer...!?

Just then, the front door was pounded with loud knocks.

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