Chapter 44: The End of a Friendship Is a Sad Thing, Isn’t It?
The campus of Heidan University was, by any reasonable standard, enormous.
Located somewhere in the Kanto region, the university boasted one of the larger campuses in the country, a sprawling academic giant whose grounds seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction.
Unlike the university I had originally been expected to attend, this one housed numerous faculties clustered together across the vast campus, each branching into an equally diverse collection of departments.
Humanities and sciences were both well represented. The gender ratio was roughly balanced. Students from every conceivable background wandered its pathways.
In a sense, it felt almost artificially designed—a suspiciously convenient institution where people of every personality type, specialty, and life circumstance could plausibly cross paths.
A perfectly ordinary university.
Perhaps a little too perfectly ordinary.
Officially, the university had no connection to the Kirishiro family.
Still, there was every possibility that some corner of the institution was tied to the Kirishiro Group in ways invisible to outsiders.
Otherwise, Mother would never have gone out of her way to designate this particular university for me.
Not to mention Meiko had somehow possessed student rosters.
That alone raised several concerning questions.
The university’s academic standards varied considerably depending on faculty and department, though generally speaking the science programs tended to have higher entrance requirements.
For my part, however, every department had effectively been open to me.
As such, I had simply selected a suitable program within the Faculty of Economics based largely on Meiko’s academic level.
A perfectly reasonable decision.
There were apparently another three or four cafeterias scattered around campus in addition to the one I regularly used, and there were still many areas I had never explored.
When everything was taken into consideration, the conclusion remained the same.
Heidan University was, without question, an utterly ordinary university.
Now then.
Having finished my explanation of our beloved Heidan University, it was time to move the story forward.
Following the directions provided by the hallucination, I headed toward Campus Bulletin Board No. 2.
Naturally, a university this large possessed numerous bulletin boards.
Especially during this season, from spring into summer, the boards were nearly buried beneath an avalanche of club recruitment posters.
Recruitment had been fierce even when I first enrolled, but as everyone knew, I had remained unaffiliated until recently.
The posters were likely aimed at undecided students like me.
For the record, while the four of us had successfully founded the Ordinary Society, we were not currently recruiting additional members.
Not that anyone had asked.
In any case, bulletin boards served purposes beyond club recruitment.
The university wisely reserved certain boards for announcements too important to be buried beneath flyers.
Campus events.
Classroom changes.
Student summonses.
Various notices that could easily have been distributed digitally nowadays.
Yet despite the prevalence of electronic communication, the tradition of physical bulletin boards stubbornly persisted.
And it was there, standing before one such relic of a bygone age, that I spotted a single young man speaking urgently into his smartphone.
“What?! No, no, no! You can’t tell me ‘Actually, I changed my mind’ at the last second!”
His voice echoed across the nearly empty corridor.
“We’ve already planned everything around you being involved! The client’s counting on us too! Come on, think about it! You’re broke, aren’t you?! If you quit now, how are you gonna pay for dates with your girlfriend?! Hey! Wait! Just—!”
The call disconnected.
The man stared at his phone.
Then his arm dropped limply to his side.
With the expression of someone watching his life collapse in real time, he tilted his head toward the heavens.
“I’m screwed…”
His voice emerged as a broken whisper.
“There’s no way I can tell them now that nobody showed up… I’m finished… absolutely finished…”
There he was.
A man holding a smartphone.
Completely and utterly troubled.
Exactly as the hallucination had predicted.
As always, the information it provided was disturbingly accurate.
Why did my hallucinations occasionally possess knowledge of future events?
What exactly were they?
Then again, perhaps asking philosophical questions about hallucinations was itself missing the point.
Whatever.
For now, I took a step toward the so-called Job of Destiny.
“Excuse me.”
“Hwuh?”
The man let out a ridiculous noise when I addressed him.
Only then did I get a proper look at his face.
He was clearly a university student.
Probably an upperclassman.
His hair was somewhat long for a man, his clothing gave off a slightly suspicious vibe, and while he was clean-shaven, his face carried the exhausted look of someone perpetually worn down by life.
It was perhaps unfair to judge him so quickly, but he looked exactly like the sort of irresponsible university student who was constantly short on money.
“I happened to overhear your phone conversation,” I said. “It sounded as though you were having trouble finding enough people.”
“Uh… well… um…”
Rather than answer immediately, the man straightened slightly and spoke first.
“My name’s Aoba Oba. Fourth-year student.”
He pointed at himself.
“And you?”
“Kirishiro Gouto. First-year.”
“Huh…”
Aoba-senpai frowned.
“Feels like I’ve heard that name somewhere before…”
He shrugged.
“Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”
Then, with remarkable speed, he launched into an entirely different subject.
“So now we’ve exchanged names.”
“Indeed.”
“We both know each other’s names.”
“That is true.”
“So basically we’re friends now, right?”
“…”
“Right?”
“…”
“Gouto-kun? Right?”
“Hmm.”
I considered his proposal seriously.
“Give me a moment. I need to make a phone call.”
“Wait, you’re not even rejecting it?!”
Apparently he had expected immediate resistance.
Which was understandable.
The argument had been absurd.
But the matter required proper consideration.
I possessed two people I could confidently call best friends.
However, ordinary friends?
I had none.
Back in high school, everyone around me had been either subordinates or followers.
Friendship, therefore, was not a subject I could judge entirely on my own.
So I called Meiko, who was probably still on her way home.
The call connected almost immediately.
“Yup yup, what’s up, Gouto-kun?” Meiko answered casually. “Forget something?”
“Meiko. I have encountered a philosophical dilemma.”
“Oh no.”
“If two people merely know each other’s names, can they be considered friends?”
“…Huh?”
There was a pause.
“I mean, normally I’d say no.”
“I see.”
“For example…” she continued thoughtfully, “friendship probably starts when you naturally want to help someone who’s in trouble. Something like that.”
“I understand.”
“That was quick.”
“As expected of you, Meiko.”
“Huh?”
“You always provide exactly the words I need.”
A long silence followed.
Then:
“…I suddenly have a really bad feeling about this.”
“Indeed?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“You seem busy, so let us discuss it tomorrow.”
“……Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
“………………..Tomorrow.”
Her tone somehow sounded deeply resigned.
I wasn’t entirely sure why.
Still, I ended the call and turned back toward Aoba-senpai, who had been watching the exchange with growing confusion.
“Aoba-senpai.”
“Yeah?”
“You are currently in trouble.”
“Very much so.”
“And as it happens, I too am troubled.”
“Huh?”
“I am in urgent need of money.”
“!!”
His eyes lit up instantly.
Predictable.
Given that the hallucination had identified him as connected to my destined part-time job, I had intentionally phrased things that way.
“You are troubled.”
“Right.”
“I am troubled.”
“Right.”
“And both of us wish to help someone who is troubled.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Therefore, would this not qualify as friendship?”
“Exactly!”
Aoba-senpai practically beamed.
“Gouto-kun, you catch on fast! That’s right! I want to help a poor student who needs money, and you want to help me because I’m short-handed! It’s a win-win relationship!”
“No.”
“Huh?”
“This is simply friendship.”
“Why are you pulling the rug out from under me all of a sudden?!”
Naturally.
Thanks to Meiko’s guidance, Aoba-senpai and I had successfully established a friendship.
However, if money was going to change hands, that was an entirely separate matter.
Such things required proper contractual relationships.
My friendship would be with Aoba-senpai.
Any financial arrangement would be with whoever was paying.
Business and friendship should remain distinct.
Money did not move according to sentiment.
“Our interests align,” I explained. “However, we must preserve the principle that friends help one another because they are friends.”
“…Sure.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“I absolutely don’t understand, but sure.”
That was good enough.
Aoba-senpai finally adopted a more serious expression.
It was time to discuss the actual problem.
“Alright. Here’s the situation.”
He scratched the back of his head.
“I’ve got a simple job starting soon.”
“I see.”
“But my staff bailed.”
“I see.”
“And now there’s no way I can handle it alone.”
“I see.”
“So I’m desperately looking for anyone willing to help.”
That much aligned with my expectations.
I stored the information away and asked the next logical question.
“How many people are you short?”
“…Four.”
“What?”
The number exceeded my expectations by a considerable margin.
I stared.
Then asked again.
“Out of how many?”
“Five.”
“…”
“Four out of five.”
Aoba-senpai laughed weakly.
“Everyone except me disappeared.”
“…”
I see.
This was not a staffing issue.
This was a catastrophe.
Even without calculating percentages, the severity was obvious.
My voice lowered slightly.
“Do you know why they left?”
“Well…”
He scratched his cheek.
“I think they thought it looked suspicious.”
“Suspicious?”
“Yeah. Like, they suddenly decided it seemed shady and started saying, ‘Actually, I don’t think I’ll do it after all.’”
“And is it?”
“No!”
Aoba-senpai immediately protested.
“It’s completely legitimate! Totally legal! A clean, white-collar job!”
“Describe the work.”
“Well… various things.”
“Specifically.”
“Today’s job is… um…”
For some reason, he suddenly looked reluctant.
Then he muttered:
“We just deliver packages entrusted to us by a client to designated locations.”
“…”
“…”
“That’s exactly the kind of thing people quit over.”
As I spoke, I reached for my smartphone again.
This was not the sort of opportunity that appeared in an ordinary university student’s life.
Therefore, ordinary responses no longer applied.
I was fully justified in exercising my own judgment.
Specifically:
Calling the police.
“Aoba-senpai.”
“Y-Yeah?”
“I genuinely felt friendship between us.”
“Wait.”
“It saddens me that it has come to this.”
“WAIT!”
“Goodbye.”
“NO! Seriously! It’s not illegal!”
“What is the compensation?”
“Twenty thousand yen per delivery!”
“The death of friendship is truly tragic.”
“THAT’S NOT WHAT’S HAPPENING!”
“Please explain it to the authorities.”
“WAIT!”
Aoba-senpai was saying something.
Possibly many things.
I ignored them and smoothly moved my finger toward the emergency number.
110
Just before I tapped it, however—
The hallucination appeared again.
Not now.
I was busy.
Save it for later—
────────────
Job of Destiny
Today’s Assignment: Deliver thank-you letters from an orphanage to various recipients.
Client: Long-Legged Uncle (Self-Inflicted Philanthropist)
Warning: The children at the orphanage are extremely curious. Exercise caution.
Illegality Level: 0
────────────
My finger stopped.
I rubbed my eyes.
Read it again.
Then read it a third time.
No matter how many times I checked, the contents remained unchanged.
Slowly, I lowered the phone.
Then I turned back toward Aoba-senpai.
“This is a black-market job, isn’t it?”
“IT ISN’T!”
“Really?”
“It’s the exact opposite!”
“The opposite?”
“Light!”
Aoba-senpai cried desperately.
“It’s a LIGHT job! A shining beacon of legality! I can’t tell you the details, but trust me!”
“I see.”
And at that moment, I arrived at a conclusion.
The person running this operation was probably far more insane than I had originally imagined.