Surfacing from the deep, dark sea-like slumber was entirely too sudden.

My consciousness shot up to the surface with the momentum of an empty plastic bottle submerged underwater.

"Sunohara-san!"

I experienced the classic "springing out of bed!" for the very first time in my life. Whenever I saw that kind of depiction in anime or dramas, I always wondered if anyone could really move that nimbly right after waking up. But I literally just felt, "This is no time to be sleeping!"

I threw off the blanket and shot right up.

The room was primarily white, but it was somewhat dim and narrow.

It was barely big enough to fit the bed, and a tall, narrow table placed by the pillow was the only piece of furniture.

"...You don't need to panic so much. I'm not going to run or hide anymore."

Hearing a voice from the opposite side of the table, I whipped my head around so fast it almost hurt my neck.

Sitting in a chair beside the bed was none other than Sunohara-san. Behind her was another white curtain, and seeing that, I finally realized I was in the Infirmary.

"Sunohara-san... why, how, why are you... wait, did I—"

Did I die?

Did my body give out from pulling all-nighters day after day, or did my lack of sleep cause me to get into some kind of accident?

Neither seemed like an impossibility.

In that case, is this infirmary-like space actually heaven? If so, heaven is an awfully cramped place. Are they running out of real estate because of too many dead people? They should just build an apartment complex or something.

Such weird delusions raced through my head.

Probably because I had been writing that novel non-stop for the past few days, my imagination was prone to exploding.

"Just calm down for now. It's not like you died or anything. Here, drink this."

Saying that, Sunohara-san tossed a plastic bottle of mineral water over to me.

Failing to catch it, it bounced off my hands and rolled across the blanket. Thinking to myself that something exactly like this had happened before, I picked it up and chugged about half of it in one go.

The cool, refreshing water washed away my weird delusions and hazy consciousness all at once.

However, just because my sense of reality had returned didn't mean I had a grasp on my current situation.

After waiting for me to close the bottle cap, she began to speak with a heavy mouth.

"Miyuki... how much do you remember about what just happened?"

"What just happened...?"

"Right before the exam started."

"Ah. For some reason, I saw you behind the podium, Sunohara-san, and I thought that I never wanted to let you go again."

"And then you just went limp and lost consciousness right against my chest."

Sunohara-san gave that nostalgic, wry smile.

The last time I saw that wry smile should have been only three days ago. Yet, to me, it already stirred a sense of melancholy. I thought that maybe the feeling of "nostalgia" isn't determined by how much time has passed, but by how many times you wished to "experience it one more time."

No, this is no time to be having deep thoughts like that.

"Right, but, why are you here, Sunohara-san—or rather, why were you there?!"

My mind became a scrambled mess again.

Did Sunohara-san come back to life? Or is this just a daydream? Or did my body actually die, and I've flown off to the same world as her? Or was the Sunohara-san in the music room an astral projection, while her real body had been living as a student at this school all along? Or, or, or—

Delusions, barely coherent enough to be called thoughts, surfaced and popped like bubbles.

Having no mental leeway to put them into words, only a groan escaped from my open mouth.

"Miyuki, you really are so honest it actually makes me worry. I do like that about you, though."

Furrowing her brows in a troubled 'V' shape, Sunohara-san let her eyes wander.

Even just watching her, I could tell she was struggling with how to explain it.

"You had your head down, Miyuki, so you might not have noticed, but I was standing up there as the exam proctor. Not a student, not a ghost, not a daydream. I was simply just a teacher."

"A teacher—eh?"

Unable to understand what Sunohara-san was saying, my confusion reached its absolute peak.

—Then, what were all those interactions between you and me?

It means I was helping a completely normal human being, not a ghost or anything, to "pass on."

What the heck is that. That's nothing but a total farce.

I, I—

"Was I... tricked?"

I was shocked by how my voice trembled many times more than I imagined it would.

But it wasn't just my voice; my vision, my body—and my heart were all trembling equally.

Just as the trembling grew larger, the dam burst all at once, and everything overflowed. The corners of my eyes grew hot, the tears spilling out made my cheeks hot, and sobs leaked from my throat. I didn't even want to cry, yet the tears fell unconsciously. It seems I've made a habit out of crying over this past week. Only, these tears were different from the ones before; they weren't stained with sadness, but with intense frustration.

Sunohara-san tried to calm me down with her hands in a panic, but it had absolutely no effect.

"W-Wait, I really didn't mean to trick you. There was a student who was clearly there as a test of courage, so I just thought I'd scare her a little... and then, somehow, I just couldn't back out of it... I'm so sorry."

She bowed her head to me so deeply her head almost touched her knees.

But just because she bowed didn't mean I could accept it. Naturally, the rain of tears from my eyes and heart wouldn't stop. If anything, the sheer incomprehensibility of it all made my rain pour even harder.

"What was... everything between you and me up until now? Was it all... all of it a lie? Watching me get so desperate, watching me cry... were you laughing from the bottom of your heart—"

"That's not true!"

Before I could finish, Sunohara-san cut me off with fierce intensity.

As if she was deeply offended that I would even suggest such a thing.

I glared at her, trying to see through even a little bit of her heart.

Sunohara-san still had an awkward look on her face, but this time she didn't look away from me. Looking straight at me, she spoke in a powerful tone that seemingly purged all hesitation from her heart.

"Everything that happened in the music room—no, the words I spoke there were all my true feelings. There were no lies. It's true that I'm alive like this, but in that place, I was certainly a ghost. Or more accurately... the moment you called me a ghost, I realized that's what I actually was."

"........................"

As Sunohara-san said, maybe I'm just too gullible.

Still, it didn't look to me like she was maliciously trying to trick me. But just because there's no malice doesn't mean I can understand what she's trying to say.

"What... does that mean?"

So, I decided to ask more questions to try and wipe away the mud obscuring my understanding even a little bit.

"The truth is—I'm just a pathetic ghost who couldn't even commit suicide for the sake of music."

She let out a heavy sigh.

And then softly cleared her throat with an "Ahem..."

"Before I get into a boring story from the past, may I ask you one question?"

"...What is it?"

"There was that music room ghost story you mentioned before, wasn't there? Could you tell it to me?"

"The one about the student who committed suicide in the music room...?"

"Yes, that one. I'd like you to tell me that ghost story one more time."

The music room ghost story. I assumed the one Emiri told me was fine. I didn't know why she was asking me that at this timing, but I reluctantly began to tell the story. A promising young pianist gets into an accident and is forced to have her fingers amputated. Driven to despair by the fact that she can no longer play the piano, the pianist commits suicide near the piano, and even now, she waits in the music room for a student to bring her missing fingers. I relayed that story to Sunohara-san.

Having heard the ghost story, Sunohara-san raised the corners of her mouth in amusement.

"What a truly wonderful story."

Her voice carried a mocking tone.

I couldn't understand how you could interpret that story to get such a reaction.

"If someone can commit double suicide with music, isn't that proof that the feelings were mutual? Because if you didn't possess the awareness that music loved you back, the idea of dying together wouldn't even cross your mind."

"Sunohara-san, you—"

"I lacked the aptitude for music. Or, to be precise, I couldn't fully love music."

—Couldn't even commit suicide for the sake of music.

That's what she had said. With an incredibly sad look—a look like she was about to drop dead at any moment. That's right. She often wore that expression. That's exactly why I believed she was a ghost.

Because that expression, more than anything else, is what made her a ghost.

Wearing that very expression, she added a spoonful of self-scorn and slowly opened her mouth.

"I have a major defect as a pianist. Do you know what it is?"

"I don't know. I'm not knowledgeable about the piano, and besides... having a defect—"

She probably wasn't looking for the correct answer—much less consolation—from me.

"My defect is my height—or rather, the fact that my hand size is fatally small."

Which is why Sunohara-san gave the answer before even finishing hearing mine.

It was a hateful tone, as if the enemy who killed her parents was standing right before her eyes.

"B-But, hand size is something you can cover for in any number of ways, right?"

Sunohara-san met my amateur opinion with a scoff.

"You can cover for it. But the burden of doing so is directly proportional to how small your hands are. And for a pianist, there's a minimum baseline you absolutely must be able to reach. That is a musical eighth—what we call an octave. I'm not sure if you noticed, but no matter how wide I stretch my hands, a seventh is my absolute limit. And when that's the case, you end up having to add clever little arrangements to almost every major classical piece."

She spoke clearly and fluidly, like reciting a poem memorized by heart.

Which meant that she had visualized those exact words countless times up until today.

"I might not look it, but when I was little, I was touted as a prodigy. I possessed talent fitting of the title, and I had the pride to match. I believed without a shred of doubt or hesitation that I would marry music in the future. But around the upper grades of elementary school, I realized that something was gradually starting to go wrong. I don't know how it is now, but there's that awful custom called 'lining up by height', isn't there? That thing where they line kids up by height and make a spectacle of them. I was never once out of the very front of that line."

Sunohara-san's voice began to take on a dark hue.

Her voice rubbed against your nerves so much that it made you want to claw at your own skin.

"Still, at the elementary school level, as you said, Miyuki, I was able to cover for it with technique. But as you get older, moving into middle and high school, things change. In the first place, the vast majority of classical music was made by 'adult' 'Westerners' 'for themselves'. They never considered a young girl from a Far East island nation playing it. The people around me who were far less skilled than I was were easily playing pieces I couldn't, simply because their hands were bigger. The humiliation I felt back then tasted like vomit."

Her tone was so bitter she sounded ready to spit right then and there.

"From that point on, my playing gradually began to go mad."

I was so captivated by her story that I even forgot to nod along.

"Just as the life of a woman driven mad by jealousy is often filled with insanity. You know how it's common for a person's expression to show it when their personality is ugly and twisted? In my case, it reflected in my playing."

Empathizing with her feelings from back then, even I felt like I was going to lose my mind.

"Unable to fully give up, I did go as far as a music college. Even there, I was constantly told things like 'There's unnecessary emotion bleeding into the piece' or 'Play more honestly'. It even got to the point where they asked, 'Do you hate music?'. As if I'd be in a place like that if I hated it. But when things like that are whispered to you over and over until your ears bleed, you start to crumble, to break. One day, quite suddenly, I didn't know anymore. I didn't know if I truly loved music or not. Because of that, I honestly started thinking that maybe I did hate music, that I even despised it, and that I was playing like garbage solely to damage the dignity of music."

Sunohara-san had a face that looked like it was going to burst into tears at any moment.

That face was so earnest and desperate that I almost mistook her for a child.

"I even wished these fingers would just get torn off. That way, I wouldn't have to play the piano anymore. I could become a tragic heroine. Then maybe I, too, could have committed double suicide with music. But God was endlessly cruel. Not only did He drive me mad with jealousy toward music, He made me give up on it by my own hand. Even if I was pushed into a corner, in the end, it was my own choice to turn my back on music."

Fufu.

She laughed, as if finally regaining her usual self.

"And so, using the teaching license I got out of desperation at music college, I entered this high school where my mother serves as a director. Pathetic, right? I supposedly thought there was no point in continuing with music if I couldn't be a pianist, yet in the end, I couldn't part with music, and here I am, surviving in this half-baked place. And you called me, trapped in that music room, a 'ghost'. It was like the scales fell from my eyes. Like, 'Oh, I see. I was a ghost!' That's why me pretending to be a ghost was a self-deprecating prank, but—it was also just the truth."

Sunohara-san paused her words there and fell silent, as if observing my reaction.

Thinking I had to say something, I somehow forced my sluggish brain to work.

"...But, that's exactly why you were able to meet me, right?"

Such pathetic words of comfort were all that managed to come out of my mouth. I might indeed be the one who turned Sunohara-san into a ghost. But she called me Giulietta—her Immortal Beloved. Surely that couldn't have been a negative for her.

"Ah. That's true. That was the only salvation... in my garbage of a life."

Sunohara-san formed her usual wry smile again.

Even though it was by no means a story so light it could be covered up by such a defective smile.

Because I had just heard her story, looking at that smile made my chest feel so painfully agitated there was nothing I could do. Thinking, I know what you've been hiding, yet you still make that face?

Come to think of it, she had this same expression on the day we parted three days ago.

Completely given up on everything.

It was an expression like she was trying to convince herself of that, suppressing her overflowing emotions.

I didn't want to make her wear that strained, grown-up face anymore.

So I beckoned her over.

She looked suspicious for a moment, but moved over to the bed.

Leaning into her, I gently embraced her body—Sunohara Chifuyu's body.

"Wh-what is this. So suddenly."

Sunohara-san's body stiffened in surprise. She probably never expected me to do something like this after hearing her story just now. As if to reassure her, I whispered gently into her ear.

"Hey, Chifuyu. It's okay to cry."

This is only my guess, but I'm sure she isn't the type of person who can shed tears even when she's all alone. That's why she gets jealous, she hates, and ultimately wears a wry smile as if she's given up on everything. I bet she's more terrified of showing her weakness to others than anyone else.

No, I'm sure she just didn't want to acknowledge the weakness of Sunohara Chifuyu herself.

I think her pretending to be a ghost was for exactly the same kind of reason.

And yet, she had told me her past.

That must be because she trusts me.

At the very least, I—as her Immortal Beloved—wanted to believe so.

"I was surprised earlier and said those things, but I'm really glad I got to see you again, Chifuyu. I don't know how you used to play in the past. I don't know much about music, so I wouldn't understand. But your fierce, ghastly performances moved my heart more than any other music ever has."

Her stiff body melted, and Chifuyu wrapped both her arms around my back.

"I love the current Chifuyu."

Chifuyu trembled her small body.

A cruel body that couldn't even play the piano as she wished—I hugged it tight as if to protect it.

"I absolutely love you, who is as small as a child, yet acts tougher than anyone else."

"Aaah."

Chifuyu let out a breath, as if her emotions had spilled over.

"In that case... maybe I'll take you up on those words. Please let me borrow your chest just a little longer like this."

Her voice and body—and her heart were trembling.

I pressed her head against my chest.

So that I could share in her fear and shame, even just a little.

"As much as you want. Until you're satisfied, Chifuyu. In fact, you can use it whenever you like."

"...You're selling yourself too cheap."

"I'd only say this to you, Chifuyu. I wouldn't do this with anyone else, and I wouldn't work so hard to help anyone else pass on. So you really don't need to be jealous like that."

"Jealousy... haah, well, I suppose you're right. Please do that. I'm going to... cry for a bit."

Saying that weakly, Chifuyu cried into my chest, stifling her voice.

The sound gradually grew louder, but it was still barely loud enough to reach my ears, and I felt relieved that no one else would hear her crying so adorably like this.

Having finished crying, Chifuyu pulled away from me and looked down, as if to hide her swollen, teary eyes.

"Sigh... I was planning to just fade out as a ghost like that. If I could just get through today's exam proctoring, it was supposed to be over, but man, it's just really... talk about awful timing."

And to cover up her embarrassment, she spat out such a feeble complaint.

There were many things I wanted to ask and talk about.

But for today, I didn't want to pile on any more serious or heavy conversations.

Both Chifuyu and I were already at our limits, so I wanted to take a little breather. If she's a teacher at this school, there should be plenty of opportunities to see each other from now on anyway.

"...Wait, so you're a teacher, Chifuyu?"

I threw out a slightly off-topic remark.

Our school is a combined middle and high school escalator system, so the number of teachers you see on campus is unusually high. The only teachers whose faces I remember are the homeroom teachers for my grade and the teachers who teach my class's subjects. Me not participating in after-school activities like studying or clubs is probably one reason for that too. Anyway, I didn't like teachers enough to memorize the faces of those who taught subjects I didn't take, so it couldn't be helped that I didn't know of Chifuyu's existence until today.

"I get told all the time that I don't even look like a high schooler. Or rather, I've been wondering this for a while now, but why am I suddenly being called by my first name with no honorifics, and being spoken to so casually?"

"Because you're not a ghost, right, Chifuyu? I figured I didn't need to use polite speech then."

"Isn't it normally the other way around? It's more natural to use polite speech with a teacher than a ghost, isn't it?"

"Then do you want me to call you Sunohara-sensei?"

At my words, Chifuyu let out a weird "Ugu!" noise.

Her face was red for some reason, and her cheeks were loose.

"...That's not bad either, actually."

"What do you mean 'not bad'? What are you talking about, Chifuyu?"

"Um... speaking of which, whatever happened to that novel you were writing, Miyuki?"

Then Chifuyu went and blatantly changed the subject.

Though the topic she changed it to was basically a dead ball hitting me right in the gut.

"Considering you were sleep-deprived again today, it looks like you were staying up to work on it again yesterday."

"I did technically finish writing it, but..."

Hearing my answer, Chifuyu's expression instantly brightened.

"Really? Then will you let me read it? Do you have the manuscript paper like last time—"

"B-But, I just finished writing it, and I haven't revised it or anything yet. Reading it will have to wait for next time..."

"Hmm..."

She slumped her shoulders and looked disappointed. As an author, it genuinely made me happy that she was so thrilled to hear it was finished and so disappointed to learn she couldn't read it yet.

Well, whether I actually let her read it or not is a different story, though.

"But you are definitely going to let me read it eventually, right?"

Sunohara-san smiled proudly.

It seemed she prided herself on being special to me.

...It's not like my novel is anything that amazing, though.

But still, her straightforward reaction was something to be happy about.

"Well, it's basically something I wrote for you, Chifuyu, so—"

Just as I said that much, a swirl of doubt raced through my head.

...Wait? How did I end that novel in the first place?

Before the memory even returned, a bead of cold sweat ran down my spine.

'I don't want to let you go anymore!'

At the same time, the line I had screamed in my dream came rushing back.

That's right. The me in reality chose to let Chifuyu pass on. In a rebound from that sense of loss, the protagonist of the novel chose not to let the ghost pass on, confessed her feelings to the ghost, and chose to spend sweet times with her. If I let Chifuyu read a novel like that, it'd be no different than confessing my love to her!

"Miyuki...?"

Chifuyu peered into my face suspiciously since I had suddenly cut my sentence off and fallen silent.

"Ah, no, actually, um, for you, Chifuyu..."

Stammering, I somehow tried to weave together words of denial.

But this time another memory and thought crossed my mind, and my words stopped midway.

It was about the piece "Moonlight Sonata" that she had played for me, and the line she told me that day: You were my—Giulietta Guicciardi.

...What did that mean?

...What does Chifuyu think of me?

Wasn't that exactly a confession of love, impossible to interpret as anything else?

"Hey, back then, the—"

—What was the meaning behind those words?

Just as I was about to press her for an answer, the sound of the infirmary door opening echoed.

"Alrighty. The teacher is back~"

Talk about awful timing. First my words were interrupted by my own thoughts, and now my conversation was cut off by the school nurse. Moreover, this was absolutely not a topic that could be discussed in a room with other people. So I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut, and for some reason, Chifuyu was also fidgeting and letting her eyes wander nervously.

Chifuyu looked back and forth between me and the school nurse, who was likely on the other side of the curtain.

Then she smoothly brought her face close to mine.

Eh. Eh? No way? Why at this timing?!

Panicking, I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut.

A soft breath, as if it had slipped out unintentionally, brushed against my face, and the next moment—

"...If you're free on the Tuesday after next, come to the music room."

As if to mock my braced posture, those were the cryptic words whispered to me.

Leaving me with a "Take care" as I opened my eyes, Chifuyu stepped outside the curtain and left.

"Ah, ahhh..."

I noticed my lips were slightly parted, as if waiting to peck at something, and grew embarrassed.

...Man, just how badly do I want to kiss Chifuyu?

Whoosh—my ears burned instantly as if set on fire.

I feel like this kind of development happens a lot. The pattern where I think it's a kiss, but it turns out to be a completely unrelated action. Just this morning, I even ended up having a dream where I kissed her.

Finding myself with nothing to do, I placed my own fingers against my lips and nibbled on them slightly.

Having something touching my lips made my heart feel just a little bit calmer.

Though I immediately stopped, feeling pathetic after replaying the whole sequence of events in my head.

"Hmm?"

As the heat and embarrassment lingering in the tips of my ears faded in that manner, Chifuyu's words from earlier came back to me.

...Did Chifuyu say to come to the music room on the Tuesday after next?

Hmm? I thought, checking the date of the Tuesday after next on my smartphone.

That day was the school's closing ceremony, but it was also the day a certain major event took place.

"Tuesday is Christmas... e-er..."

...Could this possibly be... an invitation to a date?

The heat that was supposed to have just subsided came rushing back all at once, and I buried my face in both my hands.