"How strange. I'd never been afraid of anyone before, and that High School Detective didn't have any real presence either. No matter how I looked at him, he was just an enthusiastic, good student... What exactly was wrong with me that day? Could it really be like Sato randomly guessed—deep down, did I... admire his detective skills?" Matsuda Jinpei could not figure it out. After thinking for a while, he simply lowered his head and resumed tapping away at his phone.
The nonstop clicking of buttons made Sato Miwako, who was driving, glance his way. "You type really fast."
"Yeah." Matsuda Jinpei admitted it without the slightest modesty. "My fingers are more nimble than other people's."
"..." Though Sato Miwako was hardly a modest person herself, she still was not used to the way this guy talked. The corner of her eye twitched, and she had no choice but to change the subject again. "I feel like you're always holding your phone and messaging someone whenever you have a spare moment. Who do you have so much to talk about with? Your girlfriend?"
"No." Matsuda Jinpei smiled around his cigarette. "I'm messaging a friend. Too bad he'll never receive them again. Four years ago, he was blown up."
Sato Miwako froze, then fell silent.
—If he kept messaging someone who had died, that person must have been a very close friend, practically family. Four years ago, a friend or relative had suddenly died. It was normal for his temperament to change. I should be more patient with him from now on.
Thinking Like This...
The next day, Sato Miwako slapped her palm onto the desk.
She glared at Matsuda Jinpei in front of her and demanded furiously, "What do you mean, you're not going?! You're a police officer—a police officer