“…Right when I thought I’d made it outside, I heard Tsurubami’s voice—and the next thing I knew, I was back here.”

  Everyone wore a different shade of seriousness on their face.

  “Did you see the face of the man in white who helped you?”

  Tsurubami was the first to ask.

  He’s always calm. Is he really the same age as Akisumi?

  “No. The smoke was too thick.

  He mostly had his back to me—I couldn’t really make out his face.”

  Tsurubami let out a quiet sigh of relief.

  I noticed the owner eyeing his profile suspiciously.

  “Good… If that man in white had been the underground version of you, Kiyosumi-san… there might have been a fight to the death.”

  “Right, yeah. you said if you meet the other version of yourself, one of you dies.”

  I’d completely forgotten about that.

  And I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t me—I mean, that voice in my head and the voice in my ears weren’t the same.

  “…That fire was probably the one caused by the underground version of Tsurubami.”

  Mr. White said.

  “To my knowledge, there’s only been one major fire down there.

  Which would mean you experienced a scene from the past—assuming no other fire broke out while I was away.”

  Akisumi visibly tensed at Mr. White’s words.

  “Wait… Tsurubami, you… started a fire?”

  “I told you before—someone from the underground who looked like me stole the book that held the secrets of the Oblivion Drug.

  At the same time, he set fire to the Church of Medicine Hall.”

  Akisumi looked shocked.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  He clearly saw something sacred in Tsurubami—something more than friendship.

  “It’s okay, Akisumi.

  The one who started the fire was just someone who looked like him.

  They’re completely different people.

  But I do want to hear more about that fire.

  I still feel the heat, the smoke… it’s stuck in my body. I need to know what it was.”

  Akisumi nodded, trying not to cry. I quietly squeezed his hand so the others wouldn’t see.

  Noticing me, Mr. White began to speak.

  “Very well. I’ll explain.

  At the time of the fire, I was in another building nearby.

  I’ll summarize, including what I learned afterward.”

  ??

  The building that was burned down in the arson was the Church of Medicine Hall—directly beneath this cathedral.

  It was a historic structure, used as a gathering place for the faithful who followed the Church of Medicine.

  Unlike this cold, solemn cathedral, the hall was bright and open.

  You might think it odd to call something ‘bright’ in a world without sunlight, but we do have daytime.

  In place of the sun, we’ve developed various kinds of artificial lighting.

  Inside the Medicine Hall, it was as bright as a sunny afternoon on the surface.

  I was shocked when I first heard that the secrets of the Oblivion Drug were said to be hidden in that hall’s library.

  I’d read that book myself, of course.

  The head pastor was supposed to explain it early the next morning—how to interpret the clues that pointed to the drug’s location.

  He was the first person to decode it.

  If he had already solved the secret, why keep the book?

  But that was a misunderstanding.

  Even he didn’t know which part of the book contained the clues.

  The rest of us pastors were going to gather and puzzle it out together.

  That night, I couldn’t calm down—I was too excited for the meeting.

  Even after midnight, I couldn’t sleep.

  I went into my small room’s kitchen to make some calming tea.

  That’s when I noticed an eerie glow outside.

  Peeking through the tiny window, I saw it—the Church of Medicine Hall was on fire.

  My first thought wasn’t even whether anyone was inside.

  All I could think about was the building itself.

  It was an old wooden structure.

  Every time the paint peeled, they’d repaint it with the same soft sky blue—like spring in a bottle.

  Up close, the colors would blend, creating the gentlest of patterns.

  That adorable little building—

  It was burning.

  I could almost hear the wood scream.

  I’d known that hall nearly my whole life.

  It was like a sibling to me.

  I had to save it.

  I ran out of the dormitory.

  But I couldn’t save it.

  The hall was reduced to ashes.

  I held the charred remains in my hands—

  and I still can’t find the words to describe how it felt.

  But one thing is certain:

  I have never forgiven the one who started that fire.

  First up: ???