The school I attend is an all-girls' combined middle and high school, with a 150-year-long history to its name. It's a missionary school world-renowned for schooling young ladies, although in recent years the religious aspect of it has faded a little. Nowadays, the brickwork church and old school building are about the only places you can see its missionary history.
Part-time jobs are technically against the rules there, but if you turn in a request to the school, you'll usually get permission anyway. Still, it seems like I was the first person in the school's entire history to ask for permission to work as a detective. Though, I mean, as a detective I'm not really working for a business or for a living; perhaps you could say it's just who I am. Or maybe it would be better to say that it's a talent. So I kinda wasn't sure if there was any point to asking permission to be a detective in the first place. The nun who's the headmistress was happy about it, though. Maybe to her, a detective isn't a state of being or a talent or anything, but volunteer work or something.
At any rate, I'm the only detective in the high school. I'm allowed to wear my uniform during formal detective activities, so for the sake of my work, I usually wear culotte shorts instead of a skirt. This apparently garnered me some animosity from upperclassmen, but it also won me a fair amount of friends.
In order to prioritize my work as a detective, I'm not in any clubs. But it's not like there's always work for me, so after school, there isn't really much difference between me and someone who just doesn't participate in anything at all. I just go straight back to the dorm.
I've been living in the school dorm ever since I enrolled. I live in a single small room, 4.5 tatami mats (or about 9 by 9 feet), with a kitchen, bath, and toilet attached. This is the reality behind a school for young "ladies". I have classmates who are still envious of dorm life, but the rules are more strict than the average household, too.
It was December, the winter of my first year of high school, when I opened my personal dorm mailbox and noticed I'd been sent a black envelope. A completely black B5 envelope, with no stamp or address. But my name was printed on it in white letters, so there was no doubt that it was meant for me. I picked it up and headed into the dorm.
"Oh! Welcome back, Yui." In the hall, I ran into a girl who lived in one of the other dorm rooms. "What's that? Another love letter?"
"No way." I smiled bitterly, looking down at the black envelope. It didn't really look like a love letter. If it is one, it must have been a pretty eccentric kind of person that sent it.
I'd gotten two love letters in the past. One was from a small squirrel-like girl from the next class over, a member of the crafts club. I turned her down, of course. I had to. To this very day, I occasionally catch her lurking in the shadows of the school building, watching me from a distance. The other one was from a girl who sent me a very poetic letter, but there was no name attached, so I don't know who sent it. I didn't bother using my detective skills to investigate any further than that.
I went back into my room, throwing myself down onto the bed with my coat still on. I faced the ceiling, holding the envelope up under the fluorescent light, and broke the seal. Inside there was a letter, and then another, smaller black envelope. For the time being, I just unfolded the letter.
A written request
for Yui Samidare-dono
I hope that business is going well for you as we reach the busy schedules of the end of the year.
My name is Yoshizono Ooe, and I am contacting you as a representative for someone else. Presently, my client is settling a problematic dispute, and so circumstances lead them to send this written request. Furthermore, please understand that I am unable to reveal their identity to you here.
