Finding Schrödinger's Cat

When you look up at night, it hits you and washes over you completely.

A crushing wave of pale, hazy brilliance that makes you feel utterly insignificant. Vivid colors blazing across the darkness. Nature's own magic woven from night and starlight. The ultimate illusion.

But even that endless, breathtaking view is just a tiny fraction of the whole sky.

We can't see everything at once. That's the universal law. No matter how vast the scenery before our eyes, it defies our imagination. The world must be so much wider, and the universe stretches even beyond that.

Even so, my sister swears she saw it all. Every single star scattered across the entire night sky.

I said this with absolute certainty, directing my words to the mysterious detective sitting across from me.

Deneb, Vega, and Altair. Sirius, Betelgeuse, and Procyon. Aquarius, Pisces, Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, and Capricorn. Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Hercules, and Perseus. The North Star and the Big Dipper, of course. All of them. The Summer Triangle alongside the Winter Triangle, the complete zodiac standing in formation, stars from every season gathered together. The entire sky. She says it was all there, visible at once.

Okay.

This is the mystery that started everything. How is such a thing even possible? Can you solve it? More importantly, do you actually believe a story like that?

I believe it.

She declared this without hesitation, her lips curving into a confident smile.

You still don't get it, do you? Besides, there's a slight discrepancy here. I am absolutely not a detective. Solving mysteries? I would never do something so vulgar.

If she's not a detective, then what is she?

I decided to ask her, and she answered immediately, as if she'd been waiting for the question.

I'm a witch.

Countless thick hardcover books lined massive bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling.

She pulled several volumes from the shelves as she continued.

Detectives start by doubting. Witches, on the other hand, start by accepting. I don't doubt mysteries, no matter who else might doubt them. Even if the entire world rejects them, I will accept everything!

Why?

Mysteries are wonderful! Beautiful! It's no exaggeration to call them art. But no matter how beautiful a work of art is, strip away the surface and you're left with nothing but paint and stone and wood and paper. Could anything be more vulgar? In other words, there's no purer mystery than one that will never be solved. This is what people truly call mystique.

With a heavy thud, she stacked several books with fantastical patterns on their covers on the desk.

I'd heard that word before. Could these countless books be the mystique the witch was searching for?

A witch who collects mystique. What the hell is that supposed to mean? She said it with such conviction that I'm starting to wonder if my own worldview might be the one that's wrong.

But I understood one thing now. I could never think of someone like this as a detective.

She saw all the stars. Wonderful! Truly wonderful! To erase the very concept of time from the night sky—what a dynamic, fantastic, romantic theft! This most peculiar mystery, an impossible crime so absurd it defies all possibility. I will use these hands to ensure it remains forever unsolved!

The end of Heisei, the dawn of a new era.

In times like these, when the present gets updated day by day, I can't help but feel how thoroughly out of place this all seems.

That was the day I met a mysterious witch.

I'll never forget that day. No matter how many years pass or how much the world changes, I could never forget the story that began there.

The witch turned toward me with her mischievous smile and mystical gaze:

Now then. Shall we begin constructing the Mystery Labyrinth?

1

A locked room is never truly locked. It is the collective mind that deems it impossible which locks away logic itself.

That's an obvious, well-worn maxim from some mystery novel I read before. But when you actually find yourself in that situation, you can't help but consider what it really means.

Physical locked rooms are always constructed through psychological blind spots.

Then what about the reverse?

Great detectives throughout history have skillfully exposed the psychological blind spots in even the most physically impenetrable locked rooms. But what if it worked the other way around? How could something like that be solved?

A lock placed on the human heart cannot be broken by physical means.

2

High school detectives are basically several times more trouble than any boy detective club—that's what I'm saying.

Paperbacks, hardcovers, pocket editions, new releases, manga. Countless spines lined the wall-to-wall bookshelves. Right in front of me was a section labeled "Mystery." While surveying mystery novels from around the world and throughout history, I directed my voice toward the person behind me.

From behind me came only the quiet sound of turning pages. Not caring about the lack of response, I continued.

Kids should stay in their lane and act like kids. They should stick to looking for lost cats or something. I don't know which work or character started it, but generally speaking, these people get VIP access to criminal cases. High schoolers are still just kids, but if they live such an absurdly privileged high school life, it's bound to mess with their character development, right? They'll either become arrogant jerks who look down on everyone, prideful types clinging to past glory, or bitter, self-deprecating, pathetic losers. I can't wait to see what happens when they enter the real world. And as if being placed in such an ego-inflating environment wasn't bad enough, these individuals are also typically way too clever, with long-winded, tedious dialogue, skilled at suspecting others. Basically twisted cynics. They're beyond saving. Without any mysteries or cases, high school detectives are probably just stuck-up brats.

Finally, at this point, came a reply in an exasperated tone.

Long-winded. Tedious. Really, your hatred of detectives is as strong as ever.

The person behind me, my classmate who officially ran this literature club room, our club president, was probably sitting with her eyes glued to a book, speaking without even looking my way. Our conversations were always like this. I dropped by occasionally, read some random book, and just happened to run my mouth while I was at it. It was less than a real conversation—just casually tossing a ball around out of restless boredom.

Today's conversation topic was high school detectives.

I can't stand those types of detectives. It's not the profession itself—it's their whole way of life that gets under my skin. The way they deliberately gather everyone involved in some grand hall for what's basically a show-off session disguised as deductive reasoning—it's so insufferable it makes my skin crawl. So when detective talk comes up, it's understandable that I get worked up. I know it's irritating, but please bear with me.

While mentally offering up this half-hearted apology, I glanced at her sideways.

Rather than looking exasperated, she seemed more resigned. With her refined features and perfect posture, she had the kind of appearance that could make you mistake her for some library spirit—and while maintaining that flawless reading position without breaking it even slightly, she somehow managed to shrug her shoulders as she continued speaking.

I think detectives would hate you too. At the very least, you're far more twisted and mean-spirited than they are.

Mutual hatred. Works for me.

You really are completely warped. Through and through. Oh my, to be genuinely warped to the core—what a funny contradiction that is, ahaha.

I don't want to hear anything about personality disorders from you, Akutagawa.

I finally turned around to fire back.

It wasn't just a case of trading insults. The truth was, this library spirit wasn't just any ordinary spirit. You could probably tell from the way she actually said "ahaha" out loud. Even though we'd known each other for a decent amount of time, I didn't know anyone else whose thoughts were as unreadable as hers, no one else whose depths were as impossible to fathom.

Kurisu Akutagawa.

The literature club's only real member, and a legendary figure who had already carved numerous tales into our Higashi High's history in just her second year of high school.

For example, what stood out most was her freshman representative speech right after enrollment. Right from her opening words, she completely denied the significance and value of entrance ceremonies and representative speeches as traditional events. She cited examples of entrenched bad practices throughout history and convention-breaking innovations, expanding her discussion all the way to witch hunts and geocentric theory. Then she concluded by saying she hoped to build strong personal values during high school without being swept away by such traditions—and she boldly delivered all of this at the actual entrance ceremony.

When it was all over, the content boiled down to "entrance ceremonies are a waste of time," but it was an impeccably logical presentation with claims, evidence, and examples all laid out—and it still functioned perfectly as a freshman aspirations speech. The teachers couldn't say a word in the end.

Starting with that episode that shocked all the new students right from the start of high school, the legend of Akutagawa knows no bounds. No matter how beautiful she might look—or perhaps because of it—people basically see her as some kind of supernatural creature.

And recently too, right? You made another emergency club publication? All by yourself, as usual.

As I spoke, I spotted that very publication displayed nearby.

I picked it up and flipped through it. Whether it was policy or preference, the tactile quality of the special washi-derived copy paper commonly used at this school felt pleasant.

They came at me hard after a long break. What was their justification this time? "For the turning of an era," I think? They demanded I submit it by April 26th, right before Golden Week, to publish exactly on May 1st for the era transition. They only told me yesterday, but I finished it the same day.

The literature club was basically just Akutagawa and a bunch of ghost members—students who only lent their names to keep it official. It didn't have enough active members to meet the requirements for maintaining club activities, so the teachers and student council kept making a fuss about it.

But since Akutagawa ignored all their complaints, they decided to flex their authority instead, making demands like forcing her to create emergency editions of the club magazine by impossible deadlines. These magazines normally feature short stories, book reports, and reviews published every two months.

But when they challenged her with unreasonable demands like this, Akutagawa just casually did the work of the entire club single-handedly. And the quality was ridiculously high too. Basically: "We have enough people on paper and proper activities, so what's your problem?"

Lightning-fast writing speed. People call her the "Literary Goddess."

More importantly—

Akutagawa snapped shut the paperback she'd been reading.

The case you just asked me about. It's bothering you, isn't it? Since this is a perfect opportunity, there's someone I'd like you to meet.

What a strange request.

She was referring to our earlier conversation. We hadn't been discussing the merits of high school detectives from the beginning.

What we'd initially talked about was a certain case that happened today. And a certain high school detective involved in that case.

I had spoken about it as if it were someone else's problem and indeed, I wasn't directly involved in the case myself. But honestly, it wasn't exactly something I could just dismiss as someone else's fire either. It was a matter I'd like to resolve as quickly as possible, but I was honestly at a loss for how to approach it. Though to be fair, I never meant to expose my inner anxiety to that extent, and it hadn't even been a proper consultation, just casual conversation.

I wondered if this was some kind of trap.

An introduction? I never intended to consult you about anything, and what kind of person gets introduced at a time like this?

I decided to wait and see, staying noncommittal without confirming or denying anything.

A detective, in a word.

What came back was an even more cryptic response. Akutagawa continued without pause.

This was even more incomprehensible than before.

Or so I should say, I suppose. At least within conventional frameworks.

Huh?

Evasive words, like she was holding something back. Plus that knowing smile to draw you in. Something was definitely up here.

What's your angle?

Oh my, you don't trust me at all, do you? Tee-hee. I'm not angling for anything. You'll write your own story, won't you?

She always dodged my questions like this, but every cryptic or incomprehensible proposal Akutagawa has brought up has meant trouble.

This time stood out especially. Introducing a detective to me?

You know full well that I hate detectives. I'm not exactly grateful for the offer, but I appreciate the thought. Besides, I'm not really troubled by anything.

False. You're definitely troubled.

You can't be sure of that. Did I ever say that?

Oh, you don't realize? You only ever come to the Literature Club Room when you're stuck on something, regardless of how serious it is. For someone who hates detectives to be wandering around browsing the detective novel shelves like this, you must be pretty desperate.

That can't be right.

If this were a problem that could be solved by a change of mood, I'd leave you alone. But I can read what you're thinking. You're thinking, "I'm so troubled. I'd take any help I can get, I'd grasp at straws, but I don't want to rely on a detective." It's written all over your face.

Narrowing her eyes, twisting her lips, she spoke with an almost magical voice that seemed to see through everything.

Tee-hee.

This woman's ability to read people is terrifying. Just how much can she see through? Looking at that unfathomable, supernatural, awe-inspiring expression, I even think she might know the truth behind the pyramids and the Nazca lines.

Actually, I suspected Akutagawa might already see through this entire case, and even if not, getting Akutagawa to help directly would have been the easiest and strongest option. But instead, she wanted to introduce me to someone specific.

Deliberately intervening in my affairs, deliberately taking a detour from the shortest route.

What's the point of making me meet this person?

Stories begin when people meet. Stories progress when people's feelings intersect. You'll create the meaning going forward. I just want to watch that story unfold.

Well then, let's go.

She gathered her belongings.

This detective you're going out of your way to introduce me to. They're not exactly normal, are they? What did you mean by at least within conventional frameworks?

Well, yes. I'm introducing someone specifically for you, after all. There'd be no point in an ordinary detective. But, you're right, I phrased that poorly. Let me put it this way. Don't expect that child to be like other detectives.

You're being unusually vague. That's not like you, Akutagawa.

It's complicated. Want to know what they call that child in detective circles?

That just made me more confused.

The Mystery-Sealing Witch.

3

Witch. Huh.

For me, words like witch and magician carried more weight than detective ever could. I closed my eyes and tried to untangle the mess of emotions stirring inside me.

Lost in thought, I let Akutagawa lead me out of the school and walked beside her in a daze. Eventually, she stopped and turned around.

Here we are.

Whoa!

What we'd arrived at was a Western mansion so ridiculously over-the-top it had to be some kind of joke. A house that stood out like a sore thumb even in this residential neighborhood.

It felt like this one spot had been plucked straight out of Europe. I could practically see dark clouds swirling overhead, bats flapping frantically through the air. Any second now, some old crone would emerge from inside, stirring black lizards in a massive cauldron. The fantasy was so vivid I could almost see it happening.

And perched on the fence around the property sat a single black cat. Seriously? At this point, finding something that wasn't witch-like would be the real challenge. It was every witch cliché rolled into one. A complete witch bingo.

It didn't have a collar, so maybe it was just a stray. But as I watched, the cat began to move.

Meow.

It fixed those eerily glowing eyes on me, padded across our path, and disappeared toward the mansion. The whole thing felt ominous, like a bad omen settling heavy in my chest.

Come on, follow me.

Just before the gate, a nameplate caught my eye.

Labyrinth Detective Agency.

There it was. The one thing that didn't fit the witch aesthetic.

A place that looks like this actually claims to be a detective office? Akutagawa must have read the disbelief on my face, because she answered without being asked.

It calls itself a detective office, but that's just for show. The detective office front is purely cosmetic. What's really going on here is something else entirely.

Before I could fully process the mansion's overwhelming presence or ask what she meant, Akutagawa was already walking briskly ahead. I hurried to catch up, following her through the gate and into the mansion.

And books.

An incredible array of bookshelves that would make even a library jealous.

The first thing that greeted me was a vast space, some kind of atrium or lobby, surrounded by towering bookshelves on every wall. And there, at the far end of that space, completely dwarfed by the staggering number of books around her, sitting alone at the center of this literary landscape with the poise of a librarian.

Ahaha.

There was a witch.

Mysteries get solved and turn into logic. Fantasy comes to life and becomes reality.

Excuse me?

How utterly dull! The world should be much more mystical. Don't you think?

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she asked this, fixing me with a deep, penetrating gaze that seemed to draw me in completely.

Beautiful, I thought. That was my honest first impression upon seeing her.

Not just her appearance, though that was certainly striking. It was more how perfectly natural she looked in the role of a witch. With her gradient violet hair, one vivid blue eye, and theatrical witch hat and robes that somehow seemed refreshingly authentic, she was unmistakably a witch. Everything that should have felt out of place in the modern world instead came together in perfect harmony, as if this entire scene had been designed around her. The whole space felt like a single work of art.

I was already struggling for words, and her cryptic question left me completely speechless.

Well then, welcome to Labyrinth! I'm Homura. I collect the world's mysteries.

Ignoring my stunned silence, the witch stood up and moved to introductions, bowing gracefully.

She looked a bit older than me, maybe. There was something captivating and mysterious about her, but it clashed strangely with her childlike, mischievous smile and old-fashioned clothing, making it impossible to pin down her actual age.

Uh . . . well . . .

Collecting the world's mysteries? This person, this Homura, was the detective Akutagawa wanted to introduce me to?

As I stood there in stunned confusion, unable to think straight, the witch spoke again with the expression of a child begging for souvenirs.

You're the famous detective-hating client, right? That's all I heard from the lady beside you. Ahaha. I've been waiting for you, waiting and waiting! Come on, sit down.

So it really was her.

I wondered if this was all some elaborate joke. Nobody would ever expect to be introduced to an actual witch.

A librarian-style desk sat at the very back of the room, with a table and sofas arranged in front of it, apparently the reception area of this detective office. Still reeling from the shock of meeting a real witch, I sank down onto the sofa. Homura moved over and settled on the opposite one.

Now then, let me start by getting your name.

Ah . . . yes. Um, hello. I'm Moriaki.

Moriaki?

Homura's reaction was sharp, like something had caught her attention.

What's your first name?

Reiwa.

Reiwa.

With the Heisei era ending in just a few days, what kind of cosmic joke was it that this was my name?

No, my parents hadn't meant anything by it when they named me. I knew that. Of course, I was born over sixteen years ago, back when not only had the new era name not been announced, but when the end of Heisei was still undetermined.

Um . . . is there something wrong with that?

Ah. No.

When I asked, Homura's thoughtful expression faded, and she shook her head with a knowing smile.

Had Akutagawa told her something about me before? She seemed so sure that Moriaki was my last name. That had to mean something. If so, what exactly had she heard?

I thought it was quite an auspicious name.

Yeah, I've only heard that about five thousand times in the past few weeks. More importantly, um . . . Akutagawa said she had a detective she wanted to introduce me to.

That's right! I've been looking forward to this too. How exciting. After all, Mother's the one making the introduction.

Huh? Mother?

She called Akutagawa mother? Oh no, what the hell? Akutagawa, please don't tell me you have a kid this old!

I reflexively turned toward Akutagawa.

Hm? Oh, there's a reason.

What kind of reason could lead to something like that?

She didn't deny it or laugh it off. Dead serious. When Akutagawa delivers something that matter-of-factly, it really doesn't sound like a joke.

Akutagawa having a daughter ranks among the top three most unbelievable things in the world. I'd find it easier to believe someone telling me she'd live for a thousand years exactly as she is now, immortal and ageless.

Anyway. Be that as it may.

Homura steered the conversation back on track with her clear, bell-like voice. She curved her lips into a grin and fixed me with a serious gaze.

I'd like to hear about your request right away, but first, there's something I need to confirm.

About payment?

No. There seems to be a slight discrepancy in understanding. I'm not a detective who gets paid to solve cases. I told you from the beginning: I collect mysteries.

Collect mysteries?

I act to get what I want. So I don't need payment, which also means I can be quite picky. The mysterious stories you bring me are payment enough. Witches show up wherever there's a whiff of mystery and intrigue. That said, since Mother went to the trouble of bringing you here, I don't need to worry about that part. Besides, what's your relationship with Mother? Are you her boyfriend?

No. We're in the same grade, but we're not even classmates.

After I said this, Akutagawa chimed in to add her own explanation.

Reiwa often comes to the Literature Club Room to read books. That's our relationship.

Oh! Someone Mother allows into her own castle! As I thought, you're very intriguing. All right, decided. I'll take your request.

And just like that, my request was accepted.

I hadn't said anything yet.

I was still hesitating about whether to really tell her. Even now that I was here, I still wasn't enthusiastic about it. This went beyond my dislike of detectives.

If it were just my own business, that would be one thing. But this wasn't just about me. Given what it involved, I knew it would invite ridicule and it concerned someone else's private circumstances too. I wasn't careless enough to go blabbing about something like that.

Akutagawa, who seemed to see right through my hesitation, caught my eye.

It's all right.

That was Akutagawa for you. When she said something with that kind of certainty, it carried real weight.

If Akutagawa said it's all right, then it must be. I straightened up and began to speak.

This mystery happened about three years ago. I'll ask you straight out . . . Homura. Do you think there's a way to see the Complete Starry Sky?

Then I told her the story about my younger sister.

I saw the Complete Starry Sky.

A little over three years ago, my sister suddenly said that.

There's a hill she still visits from time to time. She would go there as usual, gazing at the starry sky as part of her daily routine.

But that night, in that moment, something completely unfamiliar had appeared across the sky.

The starry skies of spring, summer, autumn, and winter had all gathered there. That's what she said. My sister said she wanted to see that Complete Starry Sky again, and she still earnestly continues visiting that hill today.

It was her imagination, a misunderstanding, a mistake, just a dream. Everyone around her dismissed it outright. Even those who didn't say it aloud made their disbelief perfectly clear through their attitudes.

I was one of them too.

And then . . .

After I finished telling such an outlandish story, Homura didn't laugh or scoff at me. Instead, she seemed almost ecstatic.

Ahaha! Ahahaha! She saw all the stars . . . How wonderful! Truly wonderful! To strip away the very concept of time from the night sky—what a bold, fantastic, romantic heist!

Then, standing in front of her librarian's desk piled high with books that had fantastical covers, Homura raised her voice in declaration:

This most peculiar mystery, an impossible crime so absurd it defies all possibility. I will use these hands to ensure it remains forever unsolved!

Mystery-Sealer. That nickname meant exactly what it sounded like. Her shining blue eyes sparkled like a child's on Christmas morning, without a trace of doubt or cynicism. This person was dead serious about keeping something unsolved.

I finally got it. Everything I'd heard from Akutagawa at school and on the way here, things I'd only half-believed, was rapidly becoming undeniable fact.

I understand now. You're definitely not a detective.

Leaving mysteries as mysteries, actively drawing them deeper into labyrinths. There's no way a detective like that could exist.

That's exactly why . . .

Reluctant as I was, I'd come all this way to evaluate her. Using the enormous mystery of the Complete Starry Sky as my opening move, I tested her reaction . . . If I hadn't trusted Akutagawa completely, I never would have even attempted such a probe. I had no intention of telling my sister's story to just any detective.

To begin with, if Akutagawa hadn't told me about her, I never would have considered visiting a detective office. I absolutely didn't want mysteries to be solved.

On that point, I'm relieved. I'm glad you're not the kind of person I despise.

My wish was simple: I wanted my sister to have peace.

I wanted to resolve this current case and save my sister, who'd been caught up in it, who might even have been treated as a suspect. That was my only goal.

I didn't need any other unnecessary services. Honestly, I'd be happier if mysteries were never solved at all.

Ahaha! I see, I see. So I was being tested! If I had foolishly declared I'll solve the mystery from the start, I would have been sent packing without ever learning about the real case or the true mystery, wouldn't I?

No, I apologize. I really do hate detectives. I mean, mysteries don't have to be solved, do they? The ones that don't need solving should just be left alone, shouldn't they? Even if I accept that solving mysteries might sometimes be necessary, there's no need to show off the solution to everyone around you, is there?

The dreamlike starry sky my sister claimed to see might have some kind of logic behind it. It might be a mystery that could be solved through investigation.

But so what if it could be solved?

The dream would just end. The fantasy would just disappear. People should figure out Santa Claus's identity on their own. I can't understand those who are so eager to deny it. Is it wrong to believe?

Don't exploit precious fantasies just to show off your competence or boast about your intellect. That's what I thought.

Once they open the lid, it's irreversible. They take no responsibility for exposing the truth.

I simply want things resolved. I'm not asking for deduction, and detective shows make my skin crawl. So . . . wait, huh? Hold on a second. Did I ever mention a "true mystery"?

No. I just picked up on the setup from how you were talking earlier. Things like "I was one of them too"—that's past tense. Besides, there'd be no point in bringing up a story from three years ago by itself. If that story were all there was, it would be nothing but mystery. The only thing to do would be to solve it. That contradicts your passionate speech!

You're actually pretty sharp, aren't you?

Are you disillusioned?

Not at all. That was actually a good impression.

I can confirm you're not just some pathetic girl who dreams of being a witch. Just some idealistic occult girl pretending to be anti-mystery . . . I'd prefer a detective over someone like that.

Ahaha. You're quite twisted, aren't you?

I'll be completely honest at this point. I really had no intention of involving you in the case. I had absolutely no intention of letting you intrude into my sister's circumstances or my personal space.

Akutagawa had explained various things to me, but deep down I'd remained skeptical the whole time, thinking 'In the end, you're still just a detective, aren't you?' I couldn't believe in a literal Mystery-Sealing Witch.

I'd come this far on nothing but the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, it could be true since it was Akutagawa saying it, but I'd been fully prepared to make some casual excuse and leave.

Think for yourself and act for yourself. Decide your own world for yourself. That's my policy. I create my own story. I protect my own world myself. I can't let some witch, who's even more suspicious than a detective, trample through it. With all due respect, I'm still evaluating you. Asking me to trust you immediately is asking too much.

I'd laid bare all my honest feelings. I naturally thought I might be thrown out after that, but . . .

How refreshingly direct. So basically, I need to make you acknowledge me, right? That I'm worth making a request to!

Your reaction is completely unexpected. I hate to say it, but aren't our positions reversed? Why would you have any reason to try so hard to earn a request from me?

A witch must easily exceed people's expectations. Only a witch knows a witch's thoughts. You wouldn't have any use for a witch you could fully comprehend, would you?

Saying this boldly, Homura left the librarian's desk and stood to face me directly.

I'm a Mystery-Sealer. What more could you possibly need?

I won't doubt your stance anymore. But at the very least, you'd have to be superior to me to be worth relying on, wouldn't you? Can you really handle this case?

What an impudent human. Very well. I'll make you beg for my services no matter what it takes. So then, shall we have a little competition?

She said this with obvious delight. This was taking a strange turn.

With a mischievous, bewitching smile, she turned toward Akutagawa.

Mother.

Don't you have something we could use?

Tee-hee. This is getting interesting. Well then, let's see, how about: What's in the Box?

Mother.

Wait, that's like a variety show competition?

This had nothing to do with being a witch or intelligence. Was she serious? Homura was also giving Akutagawa an exasperated look. Apparently even a witch couldn't read what Akutagawa was thinking.

Akutagawa disappeared into the back room and returned immediately. Hey, she actually brought back a box.

Fortunately, this box didn't have holes cut in the sides for sticking your hands through like on game shows.

Whoever correctly guesses what's inside this box in the fewest questions wins.

Ah. So that's how it works.

Perfect, don't you think? Is Schrödinger's cat alive or dead? Only God knows what's in the box. Truly, a game that symbolizes witches.

Apparently it wasn't meant to be a variety show format. I was relieved, at least.

Akutagawa continued explaining the rules.

The person guessing asks questions. The Game Master responds with yes or no. Absolutely no lying allowed. Those are the only rules. Guess what's in the box with fewer questions than your opponent. Oh, but no mental manipulation or torture, no violence like that, tee-hee.

Who would do something like that?

It's turn-based. Which of you wants to challenge first?

I'll let you have the first player advantage. How about it, Reiwa?

Yes, I'll take it. I'll go first. I'll be the one answering.

With that, Homura put something into the box, making sure I couldn't see it.

I'd already won. I was smirking inwardly. This had somehow turned into a competition before I knew it, but if it was a competition, I was naturally going to win.

Going first was exactly what I wanted. This game had a strategy—or rather, a loophole. I didn't want Homura to use it first.

Normally this is an elimination game, a process of narrowing things down through yes and no answers about size, hardness, price, whether it's alive or not. Ten or twenty questions, gradually building up a profile from information revealed through repeated questioning.

But if you exploit a loophole in the rules that isn't forbidden, this can be solved in two moves.

Well then, let's get started right away. Reiwa, your first question please.

Right. Homura. Will you answer yes to my next question?

What?

Oh. I see.

Both of their lips twisted into grins.

A question not about the object, an unconventional opening move. Akutagawa might already understand. Or maybe she knew from the beginning and deliberately created this loophole.

Yes.

Homura answered. With this, I'd secured a guarantee of getting "yes" for my next question, whatever it might be.

This was a technique I happened to know from intelligence training exercises and the like. A game of guessing what's in a box. If there's no clause saying you cannot look directly, then doing exactly that is the most efficient approach.

Second question. Will you show me what's inside the box?

Yes.

If she had answered no to the previous question, I could have simply asked, "Will you not show me what's in the box?"

Homura never lies. If she said yes to showing me what's in the box, then she absolutely must show me what's inside. No matter how strict the judging criteria, this couldn't possibly be considered a violent act.

I approached Homura and opened the box. Inside, I found what appeared to be one of her possessions, a quill pen.

I'll make my guess. There's a quill pen inside this box.

Correct. Not bad at all.

Reiwa cleared it in two moves. Oh my, Homura, isn't this a desperate situation for you?

Now what will you do, Homura? My inner smugness was reaching its peak when—

No problem.

Huh?

She said it so casually. I couldn't help but look at Homura's face.

Just so you know, copying my method is off-limits.

Of course. This is a trial to gain your recognition. There'd be no point in using methods you wouldn't accept.

What was she planning to do?

After my overwhelming victory in just two moves, her ability to remain so composed was truly unexpected.

Then it's Homura's turn. Oh my, Reiwa, are you sure about this?

Yeah.

I put the quill pen back in the box.

Go ahead with your question.