Why?! Why am I holed up?! Get hold of yourself! Do some honest work! I tried taking out my anger on myself in this way; of course, it’s never so easy to escape from being a hikikomori.

I still suffered from the neuroses that attacked me, the desire to kill myself that would boil silently to the surface, and all the other sorts of problems I faced (my rent being raised or my favorite convenience store closing). On top of all that, I had my security guard job tomorrow. It was a complete pain in the ass.

I was depressingly worried.

Regardless, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom outside my window. New college students walked past the front of my apartment. I felt as though I had been abandoned by the whole world, as though I were being mocked by the entire human race.

For example, Yamazaki had sent me a postcard recently. A photograph printed on the card showed Yamazaki, smiling widely, with a beautiful girl. He’d written, “Oh, I think I might be just about ready to get married. My parents have been bothering me for a while to get set up with someone. (In the countryside, we get married early.) And because I didn’t really have a choice, I had a meeting arranged just once, and look! She’s perfect!”

It seemed to have become an age in which even an erotic-game-loving lolicon could be blessed with happiness.

Die. Go to hell.

Next was the New Year’s card sent by the female upperclassman: “Our house is a huge mansion. We’re in love. I’m about to have a baby.”

She really seemed happy.

Go to hell.

And on top of all that, Misaki’s life, too, now was moving in a truly upward direction. When she had returned to her uncle’s house, naturally, she had been severely scolded. She seemed to have sunk into a reflection about the incident that was deeper than the ocean. Eventually, at some point, she came to talk to me about it. “How do you think I could apologize properly?”

“Shouldn’t it be enough for you just to live a healthy life?”

“I’ve caused more trouble than I can even completely understand, so that just won’t cut it, okay? I need something to, you know, wholeheartedly demonstrate my gratitude and apologies.”

“You uncle is a rather wealthy man, isn’t he? If so, then what about studying and going to college? Thinking back, didn’t you pass your college entrance exams?”

I just gave her some appropriate advice without thinking about it too deeply. Then, several months after that, my advice had become part of her reality. She was planning to begin college starting this spring. Of course, the school was obviously one that even I could have attended based on exam percentile, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise, but…