About This Novel
In the past few days, Shiguro Hayakawa has refrained from smoking at home, and even washed clothes in advance that were going to be piled up until the weekend, all for a special reason: because she lives in her own home. The first time I met her was probably five days ago. It was around seven o'clock in the evening, and the day was about to end. Hayakawa bought a bento at a convenience store and then hid in a nearby alley to smoke. When the cigarette was about to be finished, Hayakawa turned his head and glanced into the alley, and was shocked to find her lying on the ground. She was wearing an apricot-colored dress, and there was a half-dried blood clot on her head, while fresh red blood kept pouring out. Hayakawa immediately held her in his arms and hailed a taxi. Because there was a large general hospital nearby, he did not call the emergency call.
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