There are no longer any adventures on this earth to ignite my heart.

All the ruins have already been combed, and most of history’s mysteries have already been solved. All that remains uncharted by humanity now are the vast oceanic depths. But that being said, I’m not interested in what outer space has to offer, either. None of the things I yearn for could possibly exist in such an inorganic expanse.

I wanted adventures. I searched for lost ruins, solved the mysteries of their whereabouts with hints deciphered from the ancient texts of our ancestors, and felt that thrill of accomplishment as I obtained the treasures sleeping within. It felt like I was risking my life in a showdown against the deceased who came before, and to me there was no greater trophy for victory than the legacies and glittering treasures they hid and left behind.

Those were the most moving experiences of my life.

But that, too, is now a thing of the past.

Such places no longer exist anywhere in the world. Because I’ve unearthed and explored them all.

I was considering the severity of this issue.

For someone like me, who is unable to conform to modern societal norms, life is now achingly dull. The only reason I’ve even been able to survive this long was because there were adventures to go on.

But now there are no more. If I have to feel this way for the rest of my life, I’ll surely go crazy. This isn’t living, it’s torture.

That’s just how indispensable adventures are to me.

Living in the present is just boredom upon boredom, and it does nothing but depress me. Surely the children of today are more bored than I am, and the children of the future will no doubt be bored as well.

It’ll be a big problem if they grow up without ever knowing that sense of excitement.

If the fires of adventure can’t be stoked in one’s heart, if the children can’t chase after their dreams and aspirations, humanity is as good as extinct.

Just a bit ago I was eating my pudding, thinking that I had to do something about it, when I came upon a wonderful idea.

It’s so simple.

If there are none, then there’s only one thing to do. I’ll make them myself.

As long as people have the desire to challenge and solve mysteries, humanity won’t die out. People’s smiles won’t fade.

Now then, the plan is—

(an excerpt from a journal a certain girl left behind)



“Well then, I’ll be off.”

Konjou Kasumi grabbed her bag and got to her feet.

“You’re really leaving, then?”

To the lonely girl pursing her lips, Kasumi replied, “Yep.”

“Can’t you just stay in the same grade for, like, five more years?”

At this, Kasumi gave a light laugh.

“Don’t say that, it’s too ominous. Besides, I’ve already graduated.”

“Then just continue on to the island’s university. You can study any subject you’d ever want there, and it’s well-known. It’s got a good pedigree.”

“That’s fine and all, but this is to make my dream come true.”

“Awfully confident, huh?”

“Of course. Because I can see the path in front of me.”

Kasumi took a round mirror out of her bag and held it up.

“With this ‘Mirror of Foresight,’ I can see my own future.”

“Huh, what’s that? Sounds fake.” Pouting, the girl looked away. Kasumi put the mirror back in her bag and gave her a wry smile.

“Don’t say that when you’re the one who hid it in the first place.”

“…And here I thought you were going to look for the culprit who killed me? You said so, anyway,” the girl muttered.

Kasumi’s smile disappeared. “I really am sorry, but I’m just not capable of that. I can’t play that role. Because…”

“Because if you went after the culprit, you’d get killed too?”

Kasumi nodded.

“Yes, according to what the mirror shows.”

“You already know who the culprit is, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But you won’t tell me.”

“Right. Because that’s also a trigger for me getting killed.”

In other words, Kasumi wasn’t going to do anything else for the girl.

“Then hurry up and get out of this room. You’re dead to me.” Sulking, the girl waved her away.

“You don’t have to tell me, I’m leaving anyway. But, I’ll never forget these three years together.”

At those words, the girl turned her back on Kasumi. But Kasumi could see that the girl’s shoulders were shaking.

She had a sudden urge to embrace her. But embracing her was something that Kasumi couldn’t do. No, since she had closed her heart off completely, she probably wouldn’t even be able to touch anyone ever again.

So Kasumi left her with a premonition of hope instead.

“It’ll be okay. It might be impossible for me, but the next person to live in this room will definitely grant your wish.”

With only those parting words, Kasumi headed for the front door. If she stayed any longer, she would miss her ferry.


She had just put her shoes on when she heard her name. She turned around, and the girl was standing in the center of the room, looking at her.

The girl pointed straight at her.

“You’re definitely going to become a picture book author!”

Hearing the girl’s words of encouragement, Kasumi stifled her urge to sob, and pointed back at her with a big smile.

“Of course. So if you haven’t passed on by that time and are still haunting this room, be sure to read it!”