I have a life simulator.

"I only saw him from afar, and I heard that my father was planning to release him..."

He waved his hand and said:

"Never mind, this has nothing to do with you."

"However, I still think you should go see Ichinose Honami."

-------------------------------------

"It looks very effective."

You hear Sakayanagi Arisu say this across from you, and you can even imagine from her tone that she is squinting and curling the corners of her mouth.

"So……"】

"Wait." You interrupted her, realizing you couldn't keep going along with this underage girl who called herself a "psychologist." Although you did remember a lot of things, it was all the result of her guidance. This feeling of being controlled made you forcefully stop Sakayanagi Arisu.

You swallowed hard and asked her with difficulty:

"I remember you said before that when I received treatment from you three years ago, my girlfriend strongly stopped me, right?"

"Yeah, she looked like she was about to kill someone, which was completely at odds with her cute appearance."

"What does that person look like? Is his name Ichinose Honami?"

When you asked the question, it was as if the air froze for a moment.

"Don't overthink it, the girlfriend you were with back then was Ichinose Honami."

[After hearing her answer, a strange sense of relief suddenly welled up inside you, like the complex emotions of a prisoner who has just been tortured and realizes they are still alive—a feeling of relief at being alive, yet also a premonition of their fate, and still a bottomless sadness.]

"Do you have anything else about her?"

You continued your question, your voice hoarse. For some reason, when the boy named Matsuo Eiichiro mentioned the name Ichinose Honami to you in your recent memory, an immense, unprecedented pain overwhelmed you, as if you were painstakingly digging through the ruins and rubble of your memories, trying to uncover even the smallest trace of her existence.

"I don't know, anyway, I've never seen her again."

Sakayanagi Arisu's voice became much more serious; she asked with genuine concern, as if she were a real doctor:

"Would you like to take a break? We still have a long day ahead."

"No need," you replied crisply.

"Since my girlfriend stopped my therapy with you three years ago, why did you say it had been two years and one hundred and twenty-eight days since our last conversation when you called me today? Although our contact was brief, I don't think you would mistake such a precise number of days for three years."

"What did we talk about two years and one hundred and twenty-eight days ago?"

"...Even though he lost his memory, Kitagawa-kun's thinking is still just as meticulous."

Sakayanagi Arisu seemed to have changed her posture while answering the phone; you could hear the subtle rustling of her clothes against the fabric.

"Yes, I did have a phone call with you back then, and what's the same as this time is that you called me yourself."

"What did I say?"

Sakayanagi Arisu hesitated for a moment, but she continued:

"Just one sentence."

Her voice was as calm and intellectual as ever, so much so that what she said next seemed to be given a sense of rationality out of thin air.

"What Kitagawa-kun told me that day was..."

"When you call me again, no matter how long it has been, I want to tell you."

"Climb over the windowsill and jump down."

"Huh?" You were taken aback by Sakayanagi Arisu's words; there was an undeniable air about them. You instinctively looked towards the windowsill.

There were five or six vases neatly arranged there, their various sizes and heights bathed in sunlight. The ceramic surfaces shimmered with a warm glow, and the sunlight filtering through the flowers cast shimmering shadows on the windowsill. As the flowers swayed in the breeze, the shimmering light shifted and changed.

You put down the receiver, moved all the vases away, and found the window unlocked. You easily pushed it open, and a strong gust of wind hit your face. You saw the road below, the cars on the road, the people on the roadside—cars the size of matchboxes, people the size of ants—reminding you that you were now in a building at least seven stories high.

[One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, you count the floors from bottom to top. Sure enough, you're currently on the seventh floor. Judging by the height, you're probably over twenty meters above the ground. Two years ago, you left a message telling you to jump from this spot.]

Jump down, and you'll find the answer.

It's said that when people stand at a high place, they unconsciously imagine themselves jumping off. But when you lean out of the window, this sentence pops into your subconscious, and it's like a red-hot branding iron forcefully piercing your mind.

[Tsk. You pursed your lips, placed your hands on the windowsill, and then stepped one foot out the window.]

Just as you slowly step over the window with your other foot, or even your whole body... or rather, leap out, you suddenly feel the touch between your hands soften. The tiled windowsill seems to bend into a soft ribbon, and you jump out.

"Hey, Liang! The police have already sealed off this house. What you're doing is illegal!"

Somewhat dazed, you climbed over the police cordon that had been set up to prevent ordinary citizens from entering. Standing in the crowd, Matsuo Eiichiro anxiously called out to you, but he couldn't just climb over and forcibly pull you back. He could only keep waving and calling for you to come back.

You unconsciously walk towards the stairwell, where, sure enough, two policemen are standing. They seem surprised that someone would come in. One of them, with a stern face, steps forward to escort you out, sternly reprimanding you:

"Which school are you from? Get out of here! This isn't a playground for kids!"

The next second, you grabbed his shoulder and slammed him to the ground. Your sudden attack and strength, noticeably greater than that of someone his age, caught him off guard. You then swiftly pushed aside another policeman and stepped into the stairwell without hesitation.

[Fourth floor, fourth floor, fourth floor, fourth floor!]

You climb the stairs, hearing shouts and the sounds of two people chasing each other from below, but you reach the fourth floor before they do.

Then, you saw...

[Matsuo Eiichiro stomped his foot angrily as he watched his friend suddenly go mad for no apparent reason, the surrounding whispers reaching his ears.]

"If you ask me, the Ichinose family must have offended someone..."

"That's right. Within a month, the mother lost her job, and then her daughter was caught stealing. Even though the amount wasn't large, her mother dragged her to apologize. The next day, the story was exposed online, and her school was forced to expel her. I heard she was the student council president."

"It's probably because she's the student council president that they're worried about the impact and expelled her. A student council president who's a thief, tsk tsk."

"I was planning to move out because I had no income, but then the landlord sued me, saying that he had damaged the structure of the house and caused property damage. What kind of situation is this?"

"Just a couple of days ago, the girl said she wanted to drop out of school to work, but no store nearby would hire her. I have a relative who works at a convenience store, and the manager told me that someone had given orders to target their family."

The neighbors watching all wore expressions that were neither smiling nor sad, their gazes ambiguous, like spectators in a theater, expectant yet slightly greedy, and after that greed came a cold indifference that kept them at arm's length.

"...Um, what happened to the Ichinose family?"

Matsuo Eiichiro interjected, asking a question.

"They couldn't go on living, so the mother gave her two daughters sleeping pills and burned coal in the house."

A man turned to him and spoke casually, his icy tone sending a chill down Matsuo Eiichiro's spine.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Nightmare

You climbed the stairs and saw a white cat.

This is a huge cat that filled the entire corridor. Its fur is snow-white, and its pupils, almost the same size as you, shimmer with the light of fluorite. It lies there quietly, as if it has been waiting for your arrival.

"Firefly?" You almost instantly remembered the cat's name. You'd owned it before, how many times? Once, twice, three times, or even more?

Its enormous head came closer and nuzzled your body as usual. If it were a normal-sized kitten, this action would undoubtedly be a sign of affection. However, having a cat's head, which is several sizes larger than you, nuzzling you is not a pleasant experience. You are somewhat relieved that it did not stick out its tongue to lick you.

"Why are you here?" You stroked its fur, then suddenly remembered something and patted its head:

"Let me through, I want to go through."

It shook its head, and you could almost hear it speaking in your mind:

"no".

You think you must be dreaming, after all, cats can't talk in real life, and you push it a little irritably:

"Fanbo is over there. Do you know her? Let me through."

Yingyi shook her head, stubbornly blocking your way, her beautiful, fluorescent eyes fixed on you.

"Okay." You shrug.

"Since you won't let me pass, then please tell me, which way should I go?"

It answered in your mind:

"That depends on where you want to go first."

I don't care where I go.

"So it doesn't matter where you go."

"Wherever Fanbo is, that's fine."

It nodded, then grabbed you by the scruff of your collar and, with a scream, threw you straight off the building. Its last words echoed in your mind:

"Then anywhere will do. They're all nightmares she had while unconscious, so it doesn't matter which one."

"Okay, although we've met many times, let me introduce myself first. I'm Ayako Kusaka. You don't need to be too nervous, and you don't need to worry about my identity. Right now, I'm just a listener, your good friend." The female psychologist, who was about thirty years old, spoke gently to the girl sitting opposite her. Even though the room was empty except for her, the girl still seemed insecure, hugging her knees tightly, seemingly clutching something in her hands. Only a pair of bright blue eyes were visible beneath her messy bangs, peering at her.

Ayako Kusaka sighed somewhat reluctantly. This girl named Honami Ichinose had become the biggest challenge for their therapy center these past few days. She was the third therapist to come to her for consultation. The previous two colleagues had been kicked out of her house by the girl's screams because she introduced herself as Ryoko Hokuto, and another colleague, known for bringing aromatherapy to soothe patients, had made the girl silent for an entire day because she lit a rose-scented incense stick.

"I hope to hear you repeat why you came here."

She tried to gently steer the conversation, holding in her hand a form she had filled out earlier:

"Is it because you saw something scary?"

The girl started trembling again, and the therapist quickly took her hand, hoping to convey his warmth to her.

"Don't be afraid, it's all over now, I'm right here."

"Anything, once it's spoken, is fine; speaking it out means acceptance."

"...So I don't accept it? Didn't I already admit it?"

Honami Ichinose tilted her head and suddenly let out a few cold laughs:

"It's written on the paper in your hand. I've already said it: I killed someone, I confess! I plead guilty! Is that enough?"

By the last sentence, she almost shouted it out. Honami Ichinose covered her eyes with her hands, and tears streamed from between her fingers.

"Is that enough? Isn't it enough?"

"But Ms. Ichinose, your psychological issues are the key to the verdict. In fact, the victim's mother has been urging the trial, but your mother insists that you wouldn't have done such a thing; it just so happened that you were in an unstable mental state at the time..."

"and."

She looked directly into Honami Ichinose's eyes:

"In fact, after that day, you couldn't fall asleep without medication, could you?"

"Your mother and your sister are waiting for you. Think of them; they have been worried about you."

Ayako Kusaka gently guided the conversation:

"That's why we need to understand your mental state, such as what exactly happened that day? I hope you can tell me yourself."

Her gaze seemed to flicker slightly upon hearing the words "mother" and "sister," and she slowly began to speak:

“I killed my childhood friend, Kitagawa Ryo.”

After a long silence, Ayako Kusaka did not ask any further questions. She knew that this was the biggest progress in the past few days of psychotherapy. She looked at the layers of bloodshot veins in Honami Ichinose's eyes. Honami Ichinose was trembling all over, staring intently at her own hands. These pale hands were now empty. Time is the best bleach, but in her eyes, they were still stained with bright red... blood.

"No...right?"

Honami Ichinose burst into a nervous giggle:

“I should have killed Karuizawa Kei, not Ryo. Ryo had already flown abroad. Before he left, he wrote me a birthday card and promised to watch the fireworks festival with me before my birthday next year.”

She held out her palm in front of Ayako Kusaka:

"Actually, we've watched countless fireworks displays since we were kids. Let me count for you."

"When I was six, he bought me candied apples."

"When I was seven, he gave me a cat."

“At eight years old, I caught more goldfish than he did.”

"When I was nine, he bought me a large portion of takoyaki."

"When I was ten, he complimented me on how nice my new yukata was."

"When I was eleven, he bought me cotton candy."

"When I was twelve, he gave me a big, black umbrella."

"Oh."

She pressed down her raised fingers one by one, and Honami Ichinose snatched the pen from Ayako Kusaka's hand, writing in her left palm: