Epilogue

"...So it's that amazing. This 'Ao' thing." "Yeah."

Destruction of property, obstruction of traffic, obstruction of official duties. Plus late-night noise and various other things— There was a lot, but Cyan's lecture ended with a single knuckle sandwich.

"It's incredible, Junna is."

Melart, with a bump the size of a takoyaki on her head, spoke with her usual expressionless face.

"Junna... the president of our Art Club, she painted that with god-like concentration and devil-like talent."

Or maybe I should say she ended up painting it.

Melart added while rubbing the bump.

Guest stood by the bench, listening silently to the story.

The academy's greatest masterpiece. But even after painting it, Junna couldn't find happiness. She burned out, and the painting went out of control. The night remaining was far too short to tell the whole story of its end.

"When I first saw 'Ao,' I thought: I can never beat this person."

Melart dropped her gaze to her lap.

"Even if I scraped out a lifetime's worth of my own talent and slammed it onto the canvas. Something like that... something that could break someone's heart, I can't create. I just knew."

Her fingertips toyed with the spray gun even while she spoke. She would regrip it, then rub a spot where paint had crusted with her thumb. Only those practiced movements continued without interruption.

"Hmph,"

Cyan replied in a light tone.

"I don't know jack about 'art,' but—"

"I don't think yours is bad." "...You think so?"

Melart's fingers stopped.

The three of them looked up at the cherry blossom tree standing there. Multicolored layers ran across the trunk and branches. The strata, catching the light of the streetlamps, revealed different colors with just a slight change in viewing angle. At the tips of those branches, pale pink flowers were swaying.

Melart said nothing. Cyan didn't add anything more.

Petals were falling. One landed on Melart's hand as she gripped the spray gun.

She didn't brush it off, but looked up at the cherry blossoms for a while.

"Right. Dawn's about to break. Where do you live?" "In the lower tier... I'm renting a studio." "Taking kids into custody is a cop's job. I'll give you a ride. In that car you turned into a 'work of art.'" "I already told you I'm sorry about that..."

Cyan started to stand up, grabbing Melart by the scruff of her neck as she grumbled.

Just then, a sharp ringtone sounded from Cyan's pocket.

"—Huh?"

She let go of the collar and pulled out her smartphone. After a glance at the screen, she put it to her ear, and the faint smirk vanished from her face.

"What? A riot in the lower tier? ...Where?"

A short silence. Cyan's eyes turned toward the iron fence across the plaza.

"Got it. Give me five minutes."

She cut the call. She grabbed the half-finished beer can she'd left on the bench and tossed it into the trash. The can went in with a dry clink, without even touching the rim.

"...You heard the lady. I hate overtime, but that's the shitty part of this job."

Her tone didn't change. But her feet were already moving.

"I'm leaving Melart to you."

Leaving those words for Guest, Cyan hopped lightly over the iron fence.

Beyond that was an open shaft. If you didn't value your life, it was a direct route from the fourth tier where they were now to the lower tier.

Without hesitation, Cyan disappeared into the depths below.

"That Cyan person... is she always like that?"

With a rare look of exasperation, Melart turned her face toward Guest.

—CRASH.

Far below, the concrete let out a scream.

—Gwah!

"It got a bit rough... but I've arrived."

"I will eliminate Guest. As planned."