Chapter 2: A Pitch-Black Conspiracy And The Knight In Broad Daylight

Early on a Saturday morning, I was having breakfast with my younger sister in the living room of our home.

The menu was a traditional Japanese one: white rice, natto, a rolled omelet with whitebait and green onions, and spinach ohitashi.

My sister, Akari, was dressed in a tracksuit, munching away happily.

“Mmm, so good! What is this?”

“Well, it’s just leftovers from yesterday.”

“Leftovers are the best! They’re delicious, filling, and save money. Honestly, every household should have an older brother like you.”

“Am I some kind of futuristic cat robot or something?”

“Not that convenient. But seriously, you should get a girlfriend or something. If you keep just doing housework and part-time jobs, you’re gonna grow mold.”

Akari, now in her second year of middle school, was getting sharper with her tongue by the day.

“Mind your own business. Apologize to all the housewives out there.”

“No, you’re a high schooler, right? Normal high schoolers do a lot more stuff. I’m really happy you’re working so hard for us, but my happiness comes from seeing you happy too, okay? You don’t have to push yourself so hard. It’s okay to date someone, you know?”

“I’m happy to have such a good sister. That last part was unnecessary, though.”

“Oh, you caught that? Teasing you about being unpopular. As expected of my big brother, you really get me.”

Akari laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile along with her.

“Oh, by the way, while I was cleaning out the storage, I found that bamboo sword you used to use. What should we do with it? Throw it away?”

“Yeah, probably. I don’t do kendo anymore, so it’s just in the way.”

“It’s not really in the way, though.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Well, I guess I’ll keep it then. It’s part of your memories, after all. Maybe you should try swinging it again sometime? Though doing it in the yard might be embarrassing, so maybe just swing it around inside the house.”

“No way. If it hits the wall, it’ll leave a hole. Our house is already old and drafty as it is.”

I’ve overheard elementary school kids pointing at our house and calling it a witch’s mansion. It’s technically a two-story house, but still.

“Too run-down. Sometimes it even leaks when it rains.”

“Sometimes? It leaks every time it rains.”

“Try to think about how the roof feels.”

We both burst out laughing at the same time.

This scene, which might seem perfectly normal for siblings, isn’t actually normal at all.

Ever since our mom passed away when I was in my first year of middle school, laughter had disappeared from our home for a while. So being able to laugh together like this is a precious moment for both me and Akari. I’ve come to realize just how much of a blessing it is to be able to laugh from the heart.

And for that, I’ll always cherish my sister. Even if people tease me for being a siscon, I don’t care.

Because Akari’s happiness is my happiness.

It was around 11:30 AM, just before noon. I was standing near the Hachijo Exit of Kyoto Station.

The meeting spot attached to the message I received from Ono-san last night was here.

The weather was clear and sunny, and there were quite a lot of people around the station.

As I stood alone in front of the oil-blotting paper shop, the designated meeting spot, I heard a familiar voice. Turning toward the direction of the voice, I saw three figures: Karasumaru-san, Ono-san, and Daigo-san.

“Fwaaa… Sorry to keep you waiting, Kyosaka,” Karasumaru-san said in a sleepy, drawn-out voice, raising her right hand.

This was the first time I had seen her in casual clothes, aside from her loungewear. Her usually straight black hair was tied back, and she was dressed in a black top paired with a gray long skirt, giving off a fashionable vibe. As always, she wore a black mask covering her mouth, but her well-defined features were still visible.

To put it simply, she was a stylish beauty, and I couldn’t help but stare.

“Good morning, Karasumaru-san.”

“Morning… I’m so sleepy.”

“Wake up already,” Ono-san said, poking Karasumaru-san in the side with her elbow.

As for Ono-san’s outfit, she was wearing a white pullover hoodie and hot pants, giving off a mischievous, devil-may-care look. The hem of her hoodie slightly covered her shorts, revealing her alluring thighs. Her flashy blonde hair was loosely tied up, and her overall appearance was different from her usual school uniform, making my heart race.

“What’s wrong, Kyosaka-kun? You’re spacing out.”

“Ah, um… I’m just a little sleepy too. Oh, hey, Daigo-san, where are your glasses today?”

“The glasses-wearing me is just a temporary version. My vision is A-grade without them.”

“…So they were just for show?”

“Yep. I think I look cuter without them. What do you think?”

Daigo-san clasped her hands behind her back and peered up at me with a playful look.

Without her glasses, Daigo-san was wearing a sheer white shirt layered with a purple camisole dress, giving off a cool and refreshing vibe. Her simple yet feminine outfit, combined with her beauty, made her look like a well-bred young lady.

The melons at her chest seemed to emphasize her good upbringing, and her slight forward lean only accentuated their presence. I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure.

“You look… really good.”

“Good answer.”

“Anyway, you said you were sleepy, Kyosaka. What time did you get here?”

“About thirty minutes ago.”

“That’s early, Kyosaka. I slept in until the last minute.”

“Chikage is always late.”

“True that. In the end, I had to go wake her up with Sakurako.”

“My alarm didn’t go off. By the way, Kyosaka, your outfit is simple but nice.”

“Really?”

As for me, I was wearing a black tailored jacket with a white inner shirt. I paired it with slim-fit jeans, keeping it simple and clean. It was a typical outfit from Unishiro, a brand known for being affordable yet high-quality, popular among young people. I was one of their loyal fans, almost to the point of being a devotee.

“You all look really cute too. It suits you.”

I gave them a safe compliment.

In situations like this, it’s best to keep it simple and avoid saying anything unnecessary. Over-complimenting might backfire, so sticking to something genuine but not too specific is the way to go.

Well, that’s what my sister taught me, anyway.

The three of them smiled at my praise.

They really were cute, and I could hear whispers from people around us, asking if they were celebrities or models.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the attention, I suggested, “Shall we get going?” and we started walking.

Our destination was the rental studio specified by Rokujo-senpai.

Karasumaru-san hailed a taxi, and the four of us got in. Daigo-san took the front passenger seat, while I sat in the middle of the back seat, sandwiched between Karasumaru-san and Ono-san.

“Where to?”

“Ah, um…”

I told the driver our destination, and we set off.

Thump, thump, thump. The sound of my heart and the engine echoed in my ears.

Why is it that the scent of girls always makes my heart race?

Sweet, soft, and pleasant.

Since I rarely take taxis, this sedan felt like a limousine transporting a group of beautiful celebrities.

We arrived at the rental studio, which was about 100 square meters in size, just past noon.

Following Ono-san’s lead, we descended the stairs to the basement and walked down a hallway to a spacious area. The floor was covered in hardwood, and one wall was entirely lined with large panel mirrors. Several tripod-mounted cameras were set up around the room.

Rokujo-senpai and about a dozen other people, presumably staff, were already in the studio. Among them were a few women, creating a warm and friendly atmosphere. This was clearly the den of the extroverts.

Rokujo-senpai was the first to notice our arrival and raised his hand in greeting.

“Hey, everyone. Thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for having us today, Rokujo-senpai.”

“We didn’t come here for a long chat, so let’s get this over with,” Ono-san said bluntly.

“Right. I don’t want to monopolize your time, so let’s get started,” Rokujo-senpai replied, gesturing for the four of us to come in.

He guided us into the studio and explained the schedule and rules for the shoot in detail.

For this shoot, the changing room would double as a makeup room, and it was off-limits to anyone who wasn’t female. This meant that any touch-ups or assistance for the three girls would be handled by the female staff Rokujo-senpai had gathered.

I was impressed by the thoughtful arrangement.

On the other hand, the male participants could use the meeting room at the far end of the studio as a break room. We were free to use it for things like rehydrating.

The shoot would be divided into three sessions. The first session would start shortly after noon, followed by a break. The second session would begin at 2 PM, and the third at 3 PM. During the breaks, we could have lunch or use the time for outfit changes and makeup touch-ups.

We were scheduled to meet at noon and wrap up by evening, with a payment of 50,000 yen. It was a fantastic deal. I decided that tonight’s dinner wouldn’t be a budget meal—I’d treat my dad and Akari to a delicious sukiyaki.

Rokujo-senpai would handle all the studio setup and equipment management, and we were not to touch anything.

After explaining the rules to the four of us, Rokujo-senpai sat down on a pipe chair placed against the wall.

“Any questions?” he asked.

“Is it really necessary to spend so much time on the shoot?” Tsukasa Ono asked.

“Tsukasa-chan, you’re an amateur, so you wouldn’t understand. It takes a considerable amount of time to capture photos that fully bring out the model’s best qualities. As a professional, I believe it’s only natural to spend this much time on the shoot.”

The model’s best qualities. Is that something that comes from the subject’s charm, or is it the photographer’s skill that brings it out? And is this guy even a professional in the first place?

These questions floated through my mind, but I didn’t voice them. It wasn’t a topic for a genuine amateur like me to chime in on, and I figured he must have some professional pride.

“Well, if there’s a reason, then that’s fine,” Tsukasa said.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Rokujo-senpai replied with a satisfied nod.

“Alright, let’s start the shoot. Kyosaka Kei, come with me.”

“Yes.”

“The three of you, head to the makeup room and get ready. You’re already cute enough as you are, so just a light touch-up will do.”

“The makeup room is this way. Please follow me,” a female staff member said, leading the three girls to the makeup room.

As for me, I followed Rokujo-senpai as instructed.

“Um, senpai. What’s that person over there doing?” I asked, pointing to a large guy standing by the studio entrance. He looked like a gorilla, with a muscular build and a buzz cut, glaring at the studio with his arms crossed. He was probably a third-year from Toryo High School.

“Ah, that’s Isayama. With all the unsettling news lately, we’ve stationed him as a guard at the entrance.”

I guess I have seen some of those news stories. Young people robbing jewelry stores, teachers secretly filming female students and blackmailing them—it’s a dangerous world. But is something like that really likely to happen here in the studio?

As if reading my mind, Rokujo-senpai continued, “You never know. If any suspicious person tries to enter, Isayama will take them down without hesitation. He’s got the build and the martial arts experience for it.”

“I see. Understood.”

With that, the shoot began smoothly, and the first session wrapped up without a hitch. The initial shots were of Karasumaru Chikage, Ono Tsukasa, and Daigo Sakurako together. All three of them struck natural poses and expressions, just like professional models. There was a bit of a fuss when Karasumaru refused to take off her mask, but we respected her decision and moved on.

I stayed in the corner of the studio, moving equipment and watching them. I couldn’t help but wonder how the photos would turn out.

After a while, we took a break.

“Kyosaka-kun, got a moment?” Rokujo-senpai called out to me as I watched the three girls from a distance.

“Once the break is over, we’ll have Tsukasa and the others change into their shooting outfits. Since girls take a while to change, let’s use this time to discuss some things.”

“Understood.”

I left the equipment to others and followed Rokujo-senpai to the meeting room. Inside, there was a foldable long table, eight pipe chairs, and snacks and bottled tea laid out on the table—clearly set up as a break room.

“What are we discussing?” I asked as I sat down on a pipe chair across from Rokujo-senpai.

“Let’s take a breather first. Have some tea.”

“Thank you. I’ll have some.”

I took the green-labeled bottle of tea, twisted the cap, and took a sip. Huh?

Just that simple action gave me an inexplicable sense of unease.

“So, about the next steps—”

“Ah, sorry, just a moment,” I interrupted, pulling out a ballpoint pen and notepad from my jacket pocket and placing them on the table.

Rokujo-senpai seemed surprised by my sudden note-taking and chuckled. “You’re so analog. Why not just use your phone?”

“Phones are convenient, but I prefer writing by hand.”

“Fair enough. So, about the next steps—”

We spent about ten minutes discussing the plan.

“Hey, Kyosaka-kun, what’s wrong? You look dazed.”

“Eh? Ah, sorry.”

I hurriedly rubbed my eyes and wiped my mouth. My mind felt foggy, and my body was tilting forward, almost collapsing onto the table.

“Looks like you’re exhausted. I’ll let the others know. You should rest for a bit.”

“Wait—”

Before I could say anything, Rokujo-senpai stood up and left the meeting room.

What’s going on? Ever since I drank the tea he gave me, my consciousness has been getting hazier. A bad feeling crept up on me. The unease I’d been feeling earlier was now rapidly growing. I can’t fall asleep. I can’t… but…

My body felt weak, my eyelids heavy… I couldn’t resist the overwhelming drowsiness and slumped forward onto the table, closing my eyes.

Just before I lost consciousness, the sensation of the ballpoint pen in my right hand felt like the only lifeline keeping me tethered to reality.

A few minutes later.

“He’s completely out. The sleeping pills in the tea worked like a charm.”

“Of course. I prepared a fast-acting dose.”

“You’ve really gotten used to this kind of thing, Keita.”

Two voices echoed in the break room.

Kyosaka Kei showed no signs of waking up.

…Or so they thought.

I had a hunch, so I stabbed my arm with the ballpoint pen to keep myself awake. It wasn’t self-harm—just a desperate measure to stay conscious.

Unaware of this, their conversation continued.

“Why is such a dull guy liked by the three most beautiful girls in school? I just don’t get it.”

“Me neither. But thanks to that, we managed to lure the cautious trio into the studio. For that, I’m grateful.”

“Hey, I haven’t seen that hidden footage from last time yet.”

“It’s on the laptop over there.”

One voice sounded frivolous, while the other was unmistakably Rokujo-senpai.

“Whoa, this is amazing.”

“You’re so crude. The beauty of this video lies in the girls’ embarrassment.”

“How do you even get these girls to come here?”

“Through backchannel connections. If you post a casting call for a photoshoot, girls desperate for validation come flocking.”

“I see. So, this time the targets are the three most beautiful girls in school?”

…Targets?

“Yeah. They’re on a whole different level compared to the others.”

“Hahaha. Let’s strip them while they’re asleep and enjoy their noble bodies. But they haven’t drunk the tea yet, right?”

“They’ll let their guard down eventually. That’s why I had Reira and the others take care of them.”

…………………….

In just a few minutes, my impression of Rokujo-senpai completely shattered.

“Anyway, you’re on patrol duty this time, Yushi.”

“Huh? Why me?”

“We decided it by rock-paper-scissors, remember?”

“Ugh. I forgot… That’s so unfair.”

“Don’t complain. Patrol duty is important too. Besides, with 4K cameras, we can capture every detail in high quality. I’ll let you watch the footage later.”

“Hehe. That’s tempting.”

“Right?”

“Alright, I’ll head out then.”

“Wait, Yushi. This is your first time on patrol, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me explain. First, if anything happens, use LINE to contact us.”

Rokujo-senpai paused before continuing.

“We’re underground, so you can use LINE over Wi-Fi, but carrier calls won’t work.”

…

“Some girls might not be affected by the drugs as easily. That’s why we rented this underground studio—to make sure they can’t call the police in case of an emergency.”

…

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t just a photoshoot. It was a trap. And I was the only one who could do something about it.

“The entrance has Isayama stationed there, so even if the girls try to cause trouble and escape, it should be fine. You’d feel better if you had a grasp of the whole picture, right?”

“Haaaah. I see. You’re really thorough.”

It’s true, the plan is well thought out.

From the way Rokujo-senpai—no, Rokujo—speaks, it’s clear this man is a repeat offender.

I want to rush to the three of them as soon as possible, but I want to extract a bit more information first. The conversation between Rokujo and the man called Yushi is currently being recorded on my smartphone.

I continue to feign sleep.

“By the way, let me ask one more thing. Those three are pretty cautious, right? Even if you mess with them while they’re asleep, won’t they find out afterward?”

When the man called Yushi voiced his doubt, Rokujo snorted.

His laugh carried a sense of absolute confidence.

“That’s why I prepared a scapegoat. If we pin everything on the guy sleeping over there, we can have our way with the three beauties without lifting a finger. With testimonies from Reira and Marika, his life will be ruined.”

“Gyahaha, that’s messed up. You’re really a monster, Keita.”

“Hey now, call me a strategist.”

I see, now all the “unease” I felt makes sense.

So that’s how it was. The underground studio where phones don’t work. Separate restrooms for men and women. The gorilla-like man stationed at the entrance. The loosened cap on the opened PET bottle. And me, the sacrificial lamb.

As the man called Yushi left the room, leaving just Rokujo and me, I slowly got up from the chair.

“I heard everything.”

“Wha—!?”

Rokujo let out a sound like he’d seen a resurrected corpse, his shoulders trembling.

“W-w-what? Why are you awake!? You should’ve been knocked out by the sleeping pills…!”

“It hurt, you know. Stabbing my own arm with a ballpoint pen.”

I smirked faintly as I put the pen back into my jacket pocket.

“K-Kyosaka-kun… we can talk this out—”

Too late!

I leaned over the long table and moved forward without hesitation.

One step, two steps, three steps.

I took a running start and lunged at Rokujo.

“UOOOOOOOOOH!!”

“GUWAAAAAAAH…!!”

Rokujo let out a scream as he was sent flying backward, chair and all, from my flying kick (a Rider Kick-esque move). He hit his head hard as he fell and went limp, likely knocked out. With a glance at his motionless body, I opened the conference room door.

This place is a den of evil.

A swirling pit of dark schemes. I have to save the three of them from here.

Realizing that this moment is effectively a do-or-die situation, I sprinted toward the changing room. Given the studio’s layout, the changing room is located at the very back.

Just run. Just move forward. Feeling countless eyes on me. In the midst of the terror of not knowing when those eyes would bare their fangs, I ran to my destination.

“Everyone!”

“H-hey, you! This area is off-limits to men!”

“Move.”

I brushed past the vixen-like women who seemed to be Rokujo’s accomplices and stepped inside.

Inside the changing room, the three of them were in the middle of changing into their shooting outfits. Normally, I should’ve averted my eyes and left immediately, but there was no time for that. …This is bad!

“Don’t drink that!!”

I snatched the PET bottle from Karasumaru-san, who was about to open it, and threw it to the ground. Thud! A dull sound echoed.

Karasumaru-san, Ono-san, and Daigo-san were all frozen, clearly not understanding what was happening. Their stunned expressions were only natural.

“W-what’s wrong, Kyosaka…? You look scary…”

Karasumaru-san hid her mouth and chest with her hands, her voice trembling with unease.

“Sorry… everyone, listen carefully. Rokujo put sleeping pills in the drinks he prepared. As you can see, I stabbed my arm with a pen to stay conscious…”

I rolled up my jacket sleeve to show the darkened wound, and the three of them froze.

“Staying here is dangerous… I’ll explain the details later, but please trust me and follow me.”

I know this sounds crazy. There’s no way they’d follow me based on this explanation—

“Okay, Okei-han. I get it. That mushroom-headed bastard is a real piece of trash trying to do something awful to us, right? Final answer?”

“—Uh, yeah… final answer.”

“I trust you, Kyosaka… but if that’s true, it’s scary… what do we do?”

“It’s okay. Stay calm and act carefully. I’ll protect you all.”

I tried to reassure Karasumaru-san, who looked like she was about to cry.

“Yeah, I trust you… Did your arm hurt?”

“Nah. This much is nothing.”

I forced a smile to reassure her.

It seemed to work, as the light slowly returned to Karasumaru-san’s eyes.

“What should we do?”

“We run upstairs. Right?”

Daigo-san chimed in, her voice calm and collected.

As expected of her. Cool-headed and precise. Wait… how long have I been staring at everyone in their underwear!? I turned my back to them and focused on figuring out how to escape.

No matter what, we had to get above ground. Only then could we escape this crisis and call the police. The problem was Isayama, the burly man blocking the studio’s entrance.

Forcing our way through him was nearly impossible. As soon as the three of them finished changing, we burst out of the changing room. “Isayamaaa… stop them!!” Rokujo’s voice echoed through the studio.

The last resort of that scumbag, who was clutching his head as he stumbled out of the conference room, was clearly Isayama. The studio buzzed with tension.

“Kyosaka…”

“Kyosaka-kun.”

“I told you, right? It’s okay, trust me and follow me. We’re going straight through.”

“O-Okei-han, how are we getting past that gorilla-like guy?”

“Leave it to me.”

I stepped in front of everyone and faced the gorilla man.

“Heheh. What’s this, string bean? You wanna take me on?”

“I doubt you even know how to throw a punch.”

“Huh?”

“Are you deaf, gorilla man? I’m telling you to hit me.”

“Y-you wanna die, you little—!”

The gorilla man was clearly agitated by my cheap provocation.

“Enough talk.”

We didn’t have time.

“If you’re not coming, I’ll go to you.”

I kicked off the ground and charged straight at the gorilla man.

“Don’t mess with me, you—!”

He swung his fist in a wide arc.

Fast. But I’m faster.

In the time it takes for a cesium atom to vibrate 9,192,631,770 times—

Approximately one second—an enormous amount of information flooded my brain.

From first grade to seventh grade, I practiced kendo under a strict, anachronistic teacher who drilled me relentlessly in old-fashioned, Spartan-style training.

The dojo had a high dropout rate, but there were a few kids who were serious about kendo—and I was one of them. I poured myself into it, and before I knew it, I had become the strongest in the dojo.

Around the time I started making a name for myself in national tournaments, my mother passed away, and I quit kendo. But my teacher’s lessons are still deeply ingrained in me.

‘Kei. Train your eyes. Always read your opponent’s movements and think about where to strike and how.’

—This was the answer I arrived at by following that teaching.

Without a shinai or anything similar, I was unarmed. If I got into a grapple with the gorilla man, I’d definitely lose in a contest of strength.

After all, I’m not strong. That’s why I needed him to throw a punch.

The key was the step he took when he swung. If I timed it right and used the momentum of his own swing to throw him off balance, he’d lose his footing.

That was my plan.

“Wha—!?”

The gorilla man stumbled forward and fell hard onto the floor.

“Run!”

I shouted, and everyone started running.

“W-what are you doing, Isayamaaaaaaaah!!”

I heard Rokujo’s angry voice behind me, but I didn’t look back. We sprinted to the surface and left the studio behind.

The surface was still bright, with a clear blue sky stretching above.

Squinting at the sun peeking through the gaps between buildings, I caught my breath.

“…Haaah, haaah, sorry, everyone. There’s a lot I need to apologize for… but first, let me catch my breath…”

I was out of breath, barely able to speak. The sleeping pills made my head feel foggy, and my body felt like it was made of lead. Once my breathing finally settled, I bowed my head to the three of them.

I had put them in danger.

If I hadn’t gone along with Rokujo’s plan, this wouldn’t have happened.

I was truly, truly sorry.

Just as I was thinking that—the three of them, tears welling up in their eyes, hugged me tightly.

This is the translation of your text, using the provided glossary for character names:

—

There isn’t much I can say about the details of this incident.

The four of us rushed to the police station and reported everything that had happened at the studio to the police.

While pretending to sleep, I had recorded Rokujou’s conversation on my smartphone, and I submitted that audio data as evidence.

Although it was an attempted crime, the undeniable evidence that he had tried to drug three women and do something inappropriate to them while they were unconscious, combined with the fact that the incident had occurred just a few dozen minutes earlier, allowed us to explain the situation in great detail, which likely added credibility to our account. Our complaint was successfully accepted, and Rokujou and his lackeys were all taken into police custody.

What follows is more like a behind-the-scenes story.

Rokujou’s father, as it turns out, is the president of a major entertainment production company that even I’ve heard of. I suppose it’s only natural for a parent to want to keep their spoiled son out of prison, no matter what. Apparently, the matter was settled by paying the three women an enormous settlement fee.

At first, the three of them stubbornly refused the settlement, saying, “We don’t need money.” But then, adult circumstances came into play.

That circumstance was Daigo Sakurako.

Daigo Sakurako is apparently the daughter of one of the most prominent families in Kyoto, and to avoid the publicity of a well-known local lady being involved in some kind of incident, they ultimately agreed to accept the settlement money.

Karasumaru Chikage and Tsukasa Ono had no objections either. It was a remarkably considerate move on their part, truly thinking of their friend.

Honestly, I’m not entirely satisfied with this outcome.

The fact that such issues can be resolved with money makes me worry that these kinds of cases will never truly disappear.

Rokujou’s other crimes were all buried in the darkness, with suspended sentences, and I can’t help but fear that similar things will continue to happen in the future.

In any case, Rokujou Keita and his lackeys were expelled from school.

The students of Tsuzura High exchanged various speculations and rumors, but without ever realizing the truth—that the incident had targeted the school’s three most beautiful girls—the case came to a close.

After all the aftermath was dealt with, as for me—

Since then, I’ve grown closer to the three of them, and we’ve started talking more often.

I’ve been invited to hang out after school more frequently, but at my core, my top priority remains getting Akari into university.

Work, work, work.

Aside from studying hard, there’s almost nothing else in my daily life.

So, I feel truly sorry toward the three of them, but there have been many times when I’ve had to turn down their invitations.

It’s just been one apology after another.

—

My life has always been clumsy, both now and in the past.

But there are parts of me that have started to change, little by little.

After all, people have appeared in my life who are willing to reach out their hands to someone like me.

============================================

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