Chapter 14 second quarter

The next day, the morning paper published the news that a young man had been assassinated and died in the cemetery.I gnawed on toast and read the content at the dining table, and couldn't help feeling puzzled. The dead youth and S have different surnames. Afterwards, I learned about the experience of youth from the TV news.He is from Hokkaido. He entered a drama school in Tokyo after graduating from high school, but dropped out halfway, and kept wandering around to make ends meet. I was born in Hokkaido... I recalled the bright red Hokkaido that appeared on the chest of the young man.

But what is going on? S's hometown is not Hokkaido. I was worried, so I called my high school friend and asked if S had a younger brother. "Brother? No." I pretended to casually mention S's suicide, and the other party was surprised that he had never heard of it. "S committed suicide? When?" "No, that's not what I mean. You know, he's in a weird state of mind. I'm afraid he'll be overwhelmed and suddenly worried." I casually ended the call. After several days, I still can't stop thinking about it.It's rare that I've been thinking so hard, but I still can't come up with a conclusion after all.

The answer to the mystery was not revealed until a week ago. I saw a news report that a black plastic bag containing body parts was found in S's apartment.He appeared to have hanged himself and then his body was dismembered and disposed of in a bag.The one who did it was naturally the young man, absolutely right, I realized it immediately.But the police could never be notified, so I decided to keep silent. When attending S's farewell ceremony, I took the opportunity to ask S's uncle where their tombs were. "It's located in a rather troublesome place. From here, you have to take the JR National Railway to the private railway..."

The address he told me was not the cemetery the youth took me to.It seems that the tomb we worshiped with palms together just happened to have the same surname as S.Young people are probably looking for it casually. The situation is probably like this: When the young man broke through the empty door, he accidentally discovered that S had hanged himself, and then saw the photocopied manuscript paper, and found that the content was the same as my novel.Things like my name must be written in S's suicide note.So, the young man pretended to be S's younger brother, and carefully designed this trap to report me...

But in the end, what was he asking for? "Then no, no, it's not fun." Did that young man also feel the weight of this chaos that was always wrapped around his body?Does he also feel this kind of warm and turbid stagnation like water facing the sun? It must be. Inexplicably, every time I look in the mirror, I feel that it is not me but him that is reflected, as if meeting his gaze.I decided so for no reason, and since then I have never dared to look up at the wash-stand, and at any rate, never again to look in the mirror.