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“Is there anyone on board who’s a detective?”

Well, I could just be hearing things.

That was not something you’d expect to hear in an airplane roughly 10,000m in the sky.

That’s why I’m sure I’m hearing things, a misunderstanding — no, mishearing might be more accurate. I see, this situation might be the very definition of mishearing.

“I guess not huh.”

I retorted to myself, and calmed down somewhat.

After calming down, I surveyed the area around me and found a panicked cabin attendant walking straight towards me.

“Is there anyone on board who’s a detective?”

It looks like I wasn’t mishearing.

Really? Again?

For as long as I could remember, trouble has always found my way.

One might call it a disposition to being dragged into trouble.

When I walk down a main road I’m suddenly forced into joining a flash mob, and if I take a back street instead, I end up witnessing a shady transaction involving white powder. I’ve come across so many murder scenes that the police officers that know my face have even started suspecting me. Take my luck today for example, I managed to pick up this random large briefcase with contents unknown and brought it aboard an overseas flight.

This is my 2nd year of middle school. Am I supposed to become a spy or a soldier in the future?

No, I’d rather be a civil servant. I want to actually leave work at a reasonable time. You shouldn’t underestimate my natural lack of stamina. Which is why—

“Asking for a detective here is absurd.”

In the first place, what kind of situation here calls for a detective?

Wouldn’t someone normally ask for a doctor or a nurse?

“Is there a doctor on board?” is a line you’ve seen at least once before in dramas or manga. However, the person they’re looking for now—while 1,000’s of meters in the sky— is a detective.

Haa… I don’t understand.

Exactly what sort of situation calls for a detective while soaring through the sky, I have no clue. Stop, I don’t want to get involved in any more trouble than I already am.

I ignored the cabin attendant approaching me, and shut my eyes tightly. And right after I shut my eyes, it happened.

“Yes, I am a detective.”

I unwittingly opened my eyes at the clear voice coming from my right. Sitting next to me was a girl around my age raising her hand straight up.

She had short silvery hair and blue eyes that drew you in. She wore a chic one piece dress that somehow resembled a military uniform, yet still let her snow white skin peek out from underneath.

Her beauty was like that of an angel reborn on earth. If you looked up beauty in a dictionary you would find her name listed underneath. If you searched her name online I’m sure the related image results would be pictures of flowers, birds, or the moon.

That’s why at this moment, I was interested in one thing — her name.

Who cares about the detective crap. Who is this girl? And what is her name? Those were the only things I had on my mind.

“What is your name?”

Before I knew it, I had already asked her the question.

In short, I still don’t know her real name even now, four years later.

What she told me was only her codename, ‘Siesta’.

She was a true detective fighting against the world’s ‘enemies’.

After that, I became her assistant and we left on a journey together.

“While you become swiss cheese, I’ll go dispose of the enemy, okay?”

“Hey Mrs. Great Detective, don’t make plans that count on me dying.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to take responsibility and delete your computer’s search history.”

“…Wait a second. Huh? You saw? You saw my computer’s search history?”

We became close enough to exchange silly jokes and before long, our dizzying three year adventure flew by—

And then she died.

It’s now one year since then, making four years total.

I — Kimizuka Kimihiko — survived and became an eighteen year-old high school 3rd year, immersed head to toe in the comfort of an ordinary life.

Am I okay with that?

Sure I am. I’m not causing anyone trouble.

Isn’t that right?

The detective is already dead.

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