Case 1: I Can Read Minds, So I Know the Culprit and Trick Behind the Mansion Locked-Room Mystery… But I’m Too Stupid to Figure Out How to Prove It!
A wealthy family—the Ichiwada household—has been struck by tragedy. The wife of the family was assaulted by an unknown assailant.
A crime committed in broad daylight, a locked room with no signs of intrusion, and suspects with solid alibis.
Arriving at the scene, where even the slightest lead was absent,
was a high school detective with the ability to read minds: Oba Kanako.
With her outrageous skill of “directly reading the culprit’s thoughts,”
which surpassed conventional deduction, she easily saw through the trick.
But—she had no idea how to prove it.
That’s right. She was an idiot.
TLNOTE: Oba Kanako = O bakana ko = very stupid child
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT LOCALIZERMEERKAT.PAGES.DEV
A certain room in a luxurious mansion.
Standing inside a lavishly decorated chamber—filled with expensive furniture, a grand desk, bookshelves, and every other detail screaming wealth—I, Ōba Kanako, couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.
(This kind of life has nothing to do with me… And if I break anything, I’ll be ruined. Not that my detective office would ever match this place anyway—no room for wooden bear carvings by the entrance.)
Sighing at the sheer distance between this world and mine, I lowered my gaze.
The floor was covered in an undoubtedly high-quality carpet—was it the knot count? The more threads at the edges, the more expensive, right? Yeah, even an amateur could tell this was top-tier.
But resting atop that luxurious carpet was something far less refined.
A rope tied in the shape of a human outline. A numbered marker. And… bloodstains.
Fragments of the broken door littered the floor. A knocked-over vase had spilled water and petals everywhere, adding to the ominous atmosphere.
That’s right—this was a crime scene.
And me? I’m a high school detective who’s been making a bit of a name for herself lately.
Around noon, the wife of this mansion, Ichiwada Futsuko, was found collapsed and bleeding after being attacked by someone.
So, after being casually summoned by a police acquaintance with a “You’re free after school, right?”, I ended up dragged into this ridiculously opulent mansion.
And now, standing before me, were the four suspects. Picture one of those detective novel scenes where the culprit gets exposed—yeah, it was exactly like that.
One of them, raised his voice at me with clear irritation.
“What the hell is this kid doing here?! Hurry it up already!”
a middle-aged man with a well-groomed beard and an imposing stature,
That would be Ichiwada Ryōsuke, the master of the house. Rumor had it he was notoriously stingy but filthy rich.
Next to him stood a glamorous woman in an elegant dress, barely sparing me a glance as she focused on inspecting her nails.
“First the police, now some weirdo… Can’t you just leave already?”
This was Ichiwada Hitomi, Ryōsuke’s eldest daughter. She owned a chain of wig shops, nail salons, and cosmetic surgery clinics—her fingers were so over-decorated they looked like a glitter bomb went off. Not my style—I’d probably forget and pick my ears with them, ending up covered in blood.
“I-I’m sorry! The young mistress and master aren’t bad people!”
The one stammering nervously was the elderly, white-haired butler, Hanzawa Ninkichi. Though he hadn’t been working here long, he was apparently deeply trusted by the mistress.
And then, the last one—
“Un… for… givable… Un… for… givable—”
Wrapped in a tattered coat, his face completely bandaged and reeking like a wild animal, was Ichiwada Ayashi, the eldest son of the family. Quite the character.
Ryōsuke pointed at me, his temper flaring.
“Hey! You said you’d bring in someone competent! What the hell is this?! Did I wait all this time for some brat who looks like a grade-schooler?!”
Grade-schooler? Not exactly the right thing to say to a delicate high school detective, don’t you think? Though, I guess my tanned skin, slender frame, and general “I play ball with the boys” vibe might give off that impression. Still, grade-schooler is pushing it. At least say middle-schooler.
Suppressing the urge to snap back, I forced a smile.
“Now, now, please calm down~”
“How can I be calm?! My wife was attacked! Do you have any idea how much I donate to the police?! Get on with it!”
He glared at the surrounding officers,
prompting one particularly muscular, intimidating detective to step forward. His expression was anything but friendly.
“So, you got a lead on the culprit yet, great detective?”
This was Gōda Rihito—better known as “Gori the Inspector”.
Given his build, face, and name, it was inevitable people would call him Gori (Gorilla). Over time, even he accepted it, and now it stuck—a sharp, strong, and excessively hairy detective.
“Gori Inspector, calm down too. You’re ruining your handsome face~”
At my teasing, Gori raised one thick eyebrow, glaring at me like I was the most annoying thing in the world.
“Tch. use your head instead of your mouth.”
“Alright, alright. First, could you recap the situation, Inspector?”
With a sour look, Gori flipped through his notes and began reading.
“Victim: Ichiwada Futsuko, wife of Ichiwada Ryōsuke. Struck on the back of the head—currently in critical condition, unconscious.”
“Mhm, mhm.”
“Around noon, a loud noise came from her room. Ryōsuke, Hitomi, and Hanzawa entered to find the mistress collapsed… Right?”
Hitomi, one of the first witnesses, responded without even looking up, her tone prickly.
“Yeah. There was this huge crash, like something fell. When we rushed in with Father and the butler—”
“…She was lying there, and the shattered vase was all over the floor.”
Ryōsuke pointed at the broken vase, his voice quieter now. Makes sense—if something that sturdy fell, it’d make a hell of a noise.
I glanced around and noticed something else odd.
“I see. The door’s broken—what happened there?”
Hanzawa, the butler, gestured nervously as he explained.
“W-Well, the door was locked. The master forced it open to get inside… A-And the key was on the mistress’s desk…”
His trembling finger pointed at the key, placed conspicuously on the desk. Gori added, thumb jerking toward the window.
“Only other way in would’ve been the window, but that was locked tight too.”
Crescent lock, was it? The latch was firmly in place.
Outside, sunlight filtered through the tree branches. Nice weather—perfect for sunbathing… Wait, if the window had been open, someone could’ve escaped by climbing the tree.
After hearing all this, I turned to Gori with the obvious question.
“So… the scene was a locked room?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Pain in the ass.”
He scratched his neck, visibly annoyed. Yeah, locked rooms are a hassle.
“Ah, no wonder they called me in.”
“Bad news is, the weapon’s still missing.”
“Wasn’t it the vase?”
I’d assumed she was bludgeoned with it, but apparently not.
“Forensics checked—no blood on it. Most likely, the culprit took it. Oh, and an outsider’s practically impossible.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Security cameras didn’t catch anyone entering or leaving. Plus, the victim didn’t scream or show signs of struggle. This was someone she knew—”
—Meaning the culprit was one of the four people here.
Before Gori could finish, Hitomi exploded.
“W-What?! You’re accusing us?!”
Gori grimaced as she yelled without even looking at him.
Ryōsuke, equally offended, joined in.
“How many times must I say it?! When the noise happened, I was with Hitomi and Hanzawa in the parlor! Ayashi showed up right after! We all have alibis!”
“W-Well, but ‘showed up after’… That’s…”
“What?! You doubting my son?!”
“S-Sorry!”
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