A Murder Mystery
Japanese Name: 果てない殺人
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A Murder Mystery
When I abruptly regained consciousness, a dead body appeared in front of me.
There is a cat figurine next to the broken head. His head's blood had already begun to coagulate and turn a reddish black tint. And this other guy who deformed and nasty his expression. None other than my father was he. He was deceased in the musty basement where his father used to hide. When I'm a bit inside the door, I'm staring at the situation as if it's someone else's affair.
What took place? I can't remember, no matter how hard I try. I wasn't especially angry, though. I never have any memories. Ever since the injury I had as a child, my memory fades completely within 30 minutes. However, it doesn't forget anything. Only a small portion of what he accomplished during those thirty minutes remains visible. I still speak, I still know things, and I can even recite pi, which I learnt a long time ago.
I blinked and noticed the notebook dangling from my neck. This is what?
Memory notebook is labeled on the outside, and a letter inside reads, "I decided to take over my memory with this." That's what I think, I see. The date and the items I did were listed when I opened it while strangely convinced. The most recent page has just one line.
"I'm unable to pardon him. I'm going to murder my dad.
He made a tongue click. He had some inkling, but obviously I was to blame for this occurrence. He makes a lot of problems, he says, and he's a past me.
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I then ceased to be able to think. That words trembled in an unnatural way. Then focus on the corpse's blood. Why is it becoming dark now? It's obvious that more than a few hours had gone since his passing, even to the untrained eye.
I laughed as I read that. It's a trap, this. My "amnesia" is being used by someone to accuse me of killing someone. That sentence trembles, which is evidence that the handwriting was forged. The intent of the real perpetrator is to persuade others who saw the notebook, including me, who has no recollection, that "I am the culprit."
It's a pretty well thought-out plan, but if there's one thing the perpetrator underestimated, it's my brain's superiority. You won't be misconstrued if you remove this clause. I use an eraser to thoroughly remove the traces. Although I'm currently relieved, if I can't catch the person who tried to frame me, I won't be happy. What should I do next?
I turned on my heel and shut the door behind me after giving my thoughts some time in my chamber. Slippers on, climb the dusty stairs.
I crossed the mansion to my room on the opposite side and entered. adjacent to the bookcase. magazines that were left open and untouched on the desk. Instead of paying attention to such things, I simply sat in my chair and daydreamed. Is there not a suitable way to...?
☆
I woke up and found myself sitting on a chair in a dull room. Nothing was written on the page of the notebook titled Memory Note that was most recent. what the hell was i doing?
A weekly magazine was sitting on the desk in front of me. What prompted you to read this? I followed the type on the opening page with my eyes as I pondered in my head.
"Famous scientist Mr. S's terrifying human experiment," the headline reads. The original me would have chuckled at the seriously dubious phrase. But I was genuinely curious. I was raised by that Mr. S. I couldn't help it, and as I continued reading, a startling fact became clear.
It appears that he purposefully harmed his skull when he was young and induced Savant Syndrome to make his own child a "genius". It is shown how a 9-year-old youngster from a foreign nation with a gunshot wound to his left hemisphere has extraordinary machine-working skills. The doubtful story concluded with the lines, "However, it didn't really go that well, and some of the children had aftereffects."
..it's me.
I am the victim.
I suddenly felt things I had never felt before. My father caused me to lose my life. No, is it OK to describe these erratic days as a life when they involve using just a torch to navigate the dark?
My fury is out of control. This is murder, I thought.
I wrote, "I can't forgive him," in my journal. I'm going to murder my dad. Naturally, I was making my way to the basement, where my father was working nonstop on his studies.
I descended the stairs one step at a time. In the sand, slippers create tracks. For some reason, the innumerable footprints of my slippers moving back and forth on the stairs were imprinted there. It's weird because anything like this shouldn't typically be used there. Although I was dubious, that was all. I kept going.
Approach the basement door from the front. It reminds me of how he hadn't yet considered how to murder him. Yes, a cat figurine need to have been there in the space. Next, give him a forceful headbump.
I breathe deeply. There was no longer any hesitancy. Take hold of the doorknob, yank it open, and step inside.
☆
When I abruptly regained consciousness, a dead body appeared in front of me.
End
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